One boy is about to learn that he has already passed such an event, and nothing will ever be quite the same…

Dr. MacDonald sat down in an armchair facing at right angles to the sofa. Kelly was so much like his own daughter, his own son. So many times she’d visited them under their own roof, joined them in the backyard for summer fun or in the park for picnics. His children had spent their share of time at Kelly’s home as well.

“You’re too young for alcohol, Kelly,” advised Dr. MacDonald. “Why do you feel a need to self-medicate?”

“Self-medicate?” Kelly asked.

“Yes. That’s what you appear to be doing,” he began to explain. “You’re not drinking for a party, for which you’re underage, anyway. It’s much more likely that you’re drinking to reduce your anxiety and pain. A physician or psychiatrist might prescribe something else in such a case. That’s why we call it self-medicating. You’ve essentially prescribed yourself alcohol as a treatment for whatever’s bothering you. Am I wrong?”

“How could you possibly know that?” Kelly asked him skeptically.

“Well, the bottle size that you’ve chosen, half-a-fifth, is quite easily concealed in your purse. For a party, you’d be taking a fifth or even a litre. You chose peppermint schnapps believing that the hard candy would conceal it on your breath. The bag of peppermint candy also indicates that you do this frequently, prob’ly daily,” thus Dr. MacDonald outlined his reasoning. “But more than that, your demeanor isn’t quite right. You don’t look quite like the Kelly who took ballet with Sheila or gymnastics with Brandon, nor the Kelly who’d come to our house to play with them both and often stay for dinner. You don’t even look like the same Kelly who sustained an injury trying to protect a friend and rode with her in the ambulance tonight. By the way, Nurse Freund can’t stop praising you for helping her to get Abby registered and to contact her parents. And there’s one more thing you need to know about that.”

“What?”

“You got through in time, when no one else had,” he related. “The surgeon was able to start in time to save Abby’s spleen, thanks to you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really!” affirmed the physician. “That’s why alcohol doesn’t make sense for the Kelly whom we all have come to know and love. I don’t want to see a young lady with your potential, with your promise, go down that path. Your parents would be more disappointed with your drinking than I am.”

“Please, don’t tell my parents about this,” pled Kelly.

Nathan leaned back in the armchair for a moment, scratching his chin. Kelly had presented him with an ethical dilemma. Even though she was a minor, physician-patient confidentiality still applied unless Kelly were a threat to herself or others. She was too young for a driver’s license or even a learning permit, so there was not an issue of drunk driving. She didn’t even have a car here. He’d seen her arrive by ambulance, himself.

“Alright then, Kelly. I won’t tell your parents—because you will!” The doctor pulled his referral pad from his white coat and began to write on it. “You will need some help to take that step, so I want to refer you to someone who really understands what teenagers go through. Doctor Theresa Windham is a colleague of mine and would be a good person for you to talk to.” He tore the form from the top of the pad and gave it to Kelly. She studied the referral for a moment.

“Would you refer Brandon or Sheila to her?”

“Absolutely!”

“So you trust her that much?”

“Yes, I do,” Nathan affirmed to his children’s friend. “And she’s here now. I’m hoping you can meet her tonight.”

“But I need to be meeting my friends and their families when they come in.”

“Then, since I haven’t released you just yet, I’d like to keep you overnight for observation,” the physician told her. “That will give you a chance to meet Doctor Windham and we can watch for possible internal injuries.”

“Internal injuries?” Kelly asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Collisions like you experienced can often cause internal injuries that may not appear immediately,” explained Dr. MacDonald. “So it would be wiser if you remain here overnight—just in case.”

“So what do I do next?”

“Go meet with your friends and their families. Barring other more serious conditions, we’ll assign you a room in the Adolescent Ward.”

“But how will you know where I am?”

“I work here, Kelly. I’ll find you,” he said with a knowing smile. “Besides, you’re still wearing your cheerleading uniform. You kinda stand out.”

The small lobby outside the Operating Room was quite crowded when Kelly arrived. The Rev. Philip Abernathy was consoling a tearful Bob Kavalevsky while Jeff Baker was being reassured by Mrs. Abernathy. Kelly knew Abby’s parents would not affix blame to either boy for their daughter’s injuries. That simply wasn’t their way. They’d already forgiven both players in their own hearts and Kelly figured that Double Abby would do the same.

A group of four approached Kelly, led by Carla Benoit (her Big Sister), Astrid Svenson (Double Abby’s Big Sister) with her boyfriend Jason Brandt (star quarterback), and Coach Brenda San-Giacomo. Carla, Astrid, and the coach all carefully hugged Kelly, avoiding bumping into her injury. Jason simply shook hands with her.

Miss San-Giacomo turned to talk with Kelly. “So, how bad’s yours?”

“It’s a broken wrist, Coach Brenda” Kelly told her. “I can still cheer and dance, but I don’t think I’ll be doing any pyramids or other gymnastics for awhile.”

“Are you otherwise okay?” Miss San-Giacomo asked, hoping that Kelly’s injuries were limited to the broken wrist.

Kelly sighed as she continued to deliver news. “Doctor MacDonald ordered me to stay overnight,” she told her coach. “He’s concerned I might have internal injuries that aren’t obvious—kinda like Double Abby’s spleen. Have you heard about all her injuries?”

“I’ve already talked to Abby’s parents and Doctor MacDonald,” related the coach, her expression downcast. “It’s not good. He said they’ll know more when she’s out of surgery, but he guessed from her apparent injuries it’d be two to three months before she’s up and about again. And even then we may not get her back. Her mom and dad seem wary of letting her continue to participate.”

“I hope not!” Kelly objected, nearly in tears. “She loves cheerleading. Taking that away from Abby would break her heart!”

“But even if it’s just for the short-term, we still need a replacement for her,” Miss San-Giacomo told her. “I’ll be more than happy to have Abby back when she’s able, but until then I still need to keep you girls going. As it is, we’ll need to make changes to our stunts, which I’d like to minimize. After all, I’d rather not see another of my girls in here.”

Kelly nodded in agreement with her. She hadn’t thought too much about the implications that their injuries had. First and foremost was that it meant a lot of work for Coach San-Giacomo. Although most of their choreography was independent of how many dancers were available, for their pyramids and other stunts, having two cheerleaders absent would push the margin of safety beyond what anyone was comfortable doing. Those stunts would need to be revised and relearned. That would be a lot of work for everyone.

“So, how can I help out with this?” Kelly asked her.

“Talk to anyone who you think would be a good cheerleader,” the coach instructed her. “But she needs to be really fit and capable of stepping right in. She’s gotta get up to speed within a couple of weeks. And I’ve gotta make sure she’s academically eligible and has the right time available in her schedule. We don’t have time to hold new tryouts, so we really need to identify a suitable candidate and entice her to join as soon as possible.”

“Well, here comes one candidate now,” remarked Kelly as a pom-pom girl entered the room. Coach San-Giacomo turned to see Astrid and Carla hugging Sheila MacDonald. Quickly, the cheerleading coach sought to reclaim one of her past flock who’d wandered off.

“Sheila, come here!” the coach sang out, stepping up to hug her. “You’re looking so fit and healthy. Why are you here?”

“I hurried here after the game to be with my brother,” answered Sheila. “We brought him in this morning. He hated like not being able to go to the Homecoming Game. So, his girlfriend came to watch it with him on streaming video. They’re in his room upstairs. Kelly came by to see him, too. So, I thought like I’d see how Double Abby is?”

I think like they’re still working on her,” noted Astrid. “Like, no one’s come out of the operating room yet.”

Carla read the look in their coach’s eyes and immediately redirected the conversation. “So, Sheila, any chance like we can talk you into coming back to the cheer squad while Double Abby’s out?”

“Like I was telling Kelly earlier, I belong on the dance line,” replied Sheila. “I just can’t do the stunts you want. I really don’t have like what it takes.”

“Girl, you don’t give yourself enough credit,” Miss San-Giacomo tried to encourage her. “I still think you’d make a fine cheerleader.”

“We’ve been through this before, Coach Brenda. Even though I like dancing and cheering, I’m not comfortable with the other kinds of moves,” reiterated Sheila. “Even my brother’s better at those than I am. Besides, I’m much safer and happier on the dance line now.”

“Forgive us, then,” the coach asked of her former cheerleader. “Poor Abby is gonna be out for a long time, maybe even permanently. We need another girl in there fast.”

“I’ll certainly help look for someone and, like, help get her up to speed,” promised Sheila. “But if I were really any good as a cheerleader, I’d have stayed on this year.”

“That’s alright, then,” conceded the coach, although she wondered why Sheila really had not returned to the cheer squad this year. The girl had shown as much potential as anyone, if not more. Brenda just could not understand why such a promising cheerleader had defected to the pom-pom squad and dance team.

One cheerleader was not ready to concede, even if their coach was. “Sheila, now please!” Astrid Svenson addressed her former teammate and Little Sister. “Take the weekend and, like, think about it. We really need you, like even if just for a few weeks. Please?”

The hardest part of leaving the cheer squad for Sheila was that she missed her relationship with Astrid, who was now a varsity cheerleader and had been her Big Sister. Sheila and Astrid shared much mutual affection.

“Alright, Astrid. Because you asked me, I’ll think about it, but like I won’t promise anything beyond that. Leaving the squad was hard for me, and like I don’t wanna repeat it.”

They both hugged and fought back their tears. Sheila then thought it best if she return to Brandon’s room.

Jenny and Brandon were still enjoying each other’s company in his hospital room. West Grove High School’s win had, of course, added to their spirit and the young couple had all the more reason to hug and kiss.

Until they heard another knock at the door.

“May I come in, Brandon?” asked a newly familiar female voice.

“Yes, Doctor,” he invited her. “I’d like you to meet Jenny Chang, my new girlfriend. Jenny, this is Doctor Theresa Windham, a friend of my parents and my new psychiatrist.”

“Pleased to meet you, Doctor Windham,” Jenny greeted her, stepping forward to offer her hand.

“And I am as well,” replied the doctor, accepting her hand with a smile just as dimpled as Jenny’s. “Could you step outside while I talk with Brandon?”

“No!” Brandon objected. “Anything you need to tell me, you can say with Jenny here.”

“So you’re giving me permission to talk with Jenny here?”

“Yes, I am,” he agreed.

The information she had to give was just what he’d be doing tomorrow. And he did give permission for Jenny to be there. So be it, then.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll be giving you a test,” the doctor announced. “And if it shows what I think it will, I’ll ask a colleague to give you another test or two in the afternoon.”

“Then when do I get to go home?” he whinged just a little. “I feel fine now.”

“Of course you do,” Jenny teased, giggling. “We’ve been making out all evening.”

Dr. Windham covered her grin while restraining her own giggles. But she was relieved to know that her young patient had participated in age-appropriate behavior with the opposite sex. At the very least, it could become a mitigating factor in her diagnosis. She was really hoping that what she yet suspected for Brandon proved wrong.

“You get to go home when I say you can,” Dr. Windham answered him. “Your dad has given me your case, so that decision is mine. And I’ll let you leave after I’ve discussed the results of your tests tomorrow with you and your parents.”

“I’d hoped to get out of here early tomorrow morning,” complained Brandon.

“Could I stay overnight?” Jenny piped up. “It’s an incentive for him to stay and not whine about it.”

Smiling, Dr. Windham shook her head. “Nice try, Jenny, but no. He really needs some rest tonight.”

“Mom?…”

“Yes, sweetie,” Cat addressed her teenaged daughter over the telephone. “What is it?…”

“Now, I don’t want you to worry, and please don’t interrupt while I tell you what’s happened, but I was injured at the football game,” Kelly told her mother. “A pass play went over the sideline. Double Abby was caught between the receiver and a linebacker. I tried to push her out of the way but couldn’t, and broke my wrist in the collision…”

“Oh, Kelly!…”

“I’ll be alright, Mom, but Double Abby is much worse…”

“What happened to her?…”

“She was knocked unconscious and has a broken arm, broken leg, broken ribs, and a ruptured spleen…”

“That’s awful!…”

“They brought us here to Saint Luke’s Hospital. They x-rayed my arm and set my wrist. Double Abby’s still in surgery…”

“Will she be alright?…”

“We don’t really know,” admitted Kelly. “She won’t be cheerleading for a long while. That’s for sure…”

“How ’bout your own cheerleading, sweetie?…”

“The doctor said my wrist should take about six weeks to heal—maybe a little longer. But I can still yell and even dance. And Coach Brenda has already asked me to help out behind the scenes. She wants me to help her find another girl to stand in for Double Abby…”

“That’s really too bad—her injuries being so serious, I mean,…” Cat commiserated with her daughter.

“I was lucky mine was relatively minor…”

“When can I come and get you?…”

“Not until tomorrow.” Kelly explained, “Doctor MacDonald says internal injuries don’t always show up immediately, so he wants me to stay overnight for observation…”

“Then I’m coming to see you,” Cat resolved. “Do you need anything?…”

“Some proper sleepwear—I’ve seen these hospital gowns and they’re not much better than naked,” Kelly complained. “They provide basic toiletries here—oh! Bring me Benny the Bear. I’m not too old for him…”

Cat just smiled. Her daughter had held on to her favorite stuffed animal for a long time. “No, sweetie, you’ll never be too old for Benny…” She paused a moment. ”I have to get Caitlin on the way home. I’ll get your things, then we’ll come visit you…”

“When’s Daddy due back?…” Kelly felt like she needed her father near as much as her mother.

“His flight should arrive at five forty-five tomorrow afternoon. Do you think you’ll be out of the hospital in time?…”

“I hope so,” admitted Kelly. “Mom, I don’t tell you and Daddy this nearly often enough, but I love you…”

“Well, I am happy that we won tonight,” Billy Danziger confirmed for the three women seated at the table with him in Giuseppe’s Pizzeria. “Pulling it out by a field goal in the last few seconds of a game is always exciting.”

“Yes, it was,” Nancy agreed with her brother.

Lauren nodded in affirmation. “Wasn’t even my team but I still got caught up in the game.”

“Both teams played well, I think” opined Billy, sipping his cola. I haft’ admit I got my money’s worth for the ticket.”

“Do you know who the injured girls are?” Mrs. Danziger asked.

“The red-headed cheerleader was Kelly Harrigan,” replied Billy. “She’s in my homeroom, although I heard this morning she was supposed to be Freshman Princess tonight. I couldn’t tell who the other girl was.”

“I wasn’t sure, but I think the girl who didn’t get up was Double Abby,” added Nancy. “You know—the Reverend Abernathy’s daughter.”

“That was her?” exclaimed Mrs. Danziger. “Is she in the freshman class?”

“Yeah, Mom!” Billy affirmed. “We’re the same age. “We share two or three classes.” Indeed, Billy had three courses scheduled together with Abby. But since he seldom went to his first period class, he wasn’t certain that she were in it.

“I haven’t been to St. Matthew’s since Easter,” remarked his mother. “I hope she’s okay.”

“Mis’ess Danziger,” Lauren addressed her. “I’m sure that if you go Sunday, the church bulletin would have news about her. Besides, I’d like to go there myself.”

“Yeah, Mom,” added Nancy. “Lauren’s always up for services Sunday mornings.”

“Where do you attend church?” Mrs. Danziger followed up with her daughter’s roommate.

“Usually on campus at the University Chapel,” replied Lauren.

“A state university has a chapel?” Billy asked in surprise. “How does that happen?”

Before it was a state college it was a private religious school—I think Episcopal or Methodist, but I’m not certain—I need to ask someone who knows. Then almost a century ago, the church sold the campus to the state’s Board of Regents who wanted another college in that area. It’s grown to be the largest campus in the State University System.

“Anyway, the Chapel is surrounded by the campus but not technically a part of it. There are four clergy who do services there part-time and also teach, mostly as adjunct faculty in the Department of Religious Studies, although they can be found teaching other subjects as well. The ministers there are Episcopal, Methodist, Presbyterian, and Baptist. They’re paid by their denominations and the Chapel has a few of its own fundraisers. Oh! It’s really a popular place for weddings. Almost every Saturday is booked ahead through next year!”

“It sounds like a nice place to have on campus,” Mrs. Danziger agreed. “So which services do you prefer there?”

“I’m an Episcopalian, myself, so I always try to be to that one,” replied Nancy. “But I’ve attended all of the others a time or two as well. Like I went with Nancy to the Methodist service a couple of times.”

“And Lauren is always dressed up so nice for church Sunday mornings,” added Nancy.

“Oh no!” Lauren gasped. “I forgot to bring a dress for Sunday!

“No problem, Lauren,” Nancy assured her friend. “You can wear one of mine.”

“But remember? Yours don’t fit me well at all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I forgot that.”

“Could she wear one of mine?” Mrs. Danziger asked her daughter.

“Prob’ly not, Mom. Yours fit me fine, so they’d not look right on Lauren, either.”

“Well, the solution is easy enough,” suggested Lauren. “Take me to your mall!”

“Are you up for a shopping trip tomorrow, Mom?”

“Hmm?… Well, I haven’t been out to the West Grove Mall in quite a while, and I do need a few new things. So sure!”

“Billy, you should come with us, too, so we can help you with your special request—whaddya think about that, Lauren?” Nancy turned to her friend with a mischievous smirk.

“The mall is an excellent place to show him things to restore his ‘cool’ factor,” replied Lauren, nodding eagerly and subtly reflecting her friend’s smirk.

“So how ’bout it, Billy?” Nancy followed up. “We can show you a whole new way to be cool!”

Billy thought a moment. He had asked his sister for help and she promised that she would. She had even brought her roommate along, a friend who had some experience with his kind of problem. And Lauren was probably right that the mall would be a good venue to observe what he needed.

“Alright,” he answered his sister. “It makes sense. After all, a mall is a great place for people-watching.”

Their waitress then reappeared carrying a pizza, so the Danzigers and friend turned their attention to dinner.

Sheila returned to Brandon’s room to find Jenny and him going over their assigned homework.

“Did Jeff, Mark, and Melinda, like, leave?” Sheila asked.

“Yeah,” her brother answered.

“The conversation got, like, a little heavy about Melinda’s dreams of Mark in drag,” added Jenny giggling, which Sheila joined in.

“What is it with girls around here?” Brandon exclaimed in puzzlement. “Do you just hafta put guys in dresses for some reason?”

“It’s all in good fun,” his sister argued. “Besides, you looked really nice as a girl.”

“It did prompt me to go after you sooner than I would have otherwise.” Jenny explained. “The only reason you could pull off dressing up as a girl is, like, you’re sweet and gentle at heart. And that’s why I like you and want you as my boyfriend.”

“I thought it’s because I’m good at math,” Brandon mildly contradicted her.

“That’s why my mom likes you,” clarified Jenny, smiling. “She sees that as, like, giving you a good future. But that’s an added plus for me, too.”

“Still, I think it’s all the stress from gender-bending that’s put me here today,” declared Brandon. “As much fun as it was, and as nice as I might’ve looked in a dress, I’m still a boy.”

“But didn’t you, like, tell me you wanna try it again?” Sheila asked, reminding him of their conversation the previous evening.

“Yeah, but privately,” he answered, in turn reminding her of the conditions that he required. “Only where I could dress up safely without anyone else knowing—but not when and where it suits the Swarm and certainly not in front of the whole school!”

“Well, anytime you want to, you’ll be safe around me,” promised Jenny. Taking his hand between hers, she held Brandon’s attention with a reassuring gaze. “And we’ll keep it just between us. It’s, like, more fun that way.”

Dr. Jacquelyn Mendenhall untied her surgical mask and let it fall from her face as she approached her colleagues for discussion. “Good call on the spleen, Nate. It did have some damage, and the sutures were tricky, but Miss Abernathy gets to keep it.”

Dr. MacDonald sighed in relief. “I really can’t take credit for any of it, Jacqui. Joe the paramedic drew my attention to her spleen and one of her friends got through to her parents for approval. You did the surgery. I was just the gatekeeper.”

“Then thanks for expediting her through,” offered Jacquelyn. “What happened to her anyway?”

“She was cheerleading at a football game,” explained Nathan. “She was caught between a pass receiver and a linebacker when the play went out of bounds.”

“Ow! That had to hurt!” remarked Jacquelyn.

“Dat iss how she got all de fracturess,” observed Dr. Singh, an orthopedist. Fortunately, dey are all clean ant simple breaks. Surgery doess not appear necessary for dem, just setting de boness. But dere are several of dem.”

“That’s just as well,” said Jacquelyn in approval. “Would be better for her not to undergo another surgery until her spleen heals.”

“Dit you obsserffe de damage to her ribss?” Dr. Singh asked.

“The break in the tenth tore the spleen, so I took care of that one,” reported Jacquelyn. “The ninth and eleventh were cracked but not too badly—nothing that some tape and strict bed rest can’t heal.”

“What’s the plan, Singh?” Nathan asked.

“Splints on everyting for now,” the orthopedist prescribed. “I do not wish to reinjure her spleen, so I will schedule her casts more slowly dan usual.”

“Her parents are outside. Are we agreed that her prognosis is good?” Nathan polled his colleagues. They nodded in agreement.

“And how long do we say Miss Abernathy’s recovery will take?” asked Dr. MacDonald. “Her parents will need to know.”

“Her fracturess shoult be fully knittet in about six weeks or so,” predicted Singh.

“But the spleen heals more slowly,” asserted Jacquelyn. “At least eight weeks and, for the first few weeks, the risk of reinjury is high. The longer she’s immobilized, the better for her spleen.”

“But not so for her muscless,” Singh pointed out. “But she is more fit dan average for a teenaget girl.”

“Still, she may need at least some physical therapy after so long a period of immobilization. So she’d be looking at ten weeks or more, mostly in bed,” Nathan concluded. “Anything else we need to bring up with the parents right away?”

Dr. Mendenhall and Dr. Singh shook their heads, so Dr. MacDonald led them out to the waiting room.

Kelly Harrigan was beginning to feel comfortable in her hospital bed, save for the contraption used to immobilize her left arm. Pressing a button at the end of a cable, the head of her bed rose to a sitting position. Dr. MacDonald and a woman wearing a white coat and carrying a notepad paused at the door of her room.

“Kelly, may we come in?” asked Dr. MacDonald.

“Yes. Who’s she?”

“This is Doctor Theresa Windham,” the physician replied. “She’s the psychiatrist I told you about and referred you to. Teri, this is Kelly Harrigan. She’s such a close friend of our kids that she’s like another daughter to Libby and me.”

Kelly blushed at Dr. MacDonald’s introduction. “Nice to meet you, Doctor Windham,” she said, offering her hand. The woman stepped up to accept it. “Happy to meet you, too,” the psychiatrist returned the girl’s greeting.

“Alright, ladies,” announced Dr. MacDonald. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted now.” The physician left, closing the door behind him.

Dr. Windham sat down in a chair to the right side of Kelly’s bed, crossing her legs and propping her notepad up on her knee. “If you wish, feel free to call me ‘Teri’ or even ‘Doc.’ I prefer either to the more formal ‘Doctor Windham,’ unless the formality makes you feel more like you can trust me,” she suggested.

“Okay, Teri,” replied the young patient. “And I prefer just ‘Kelly’ unless ‘Miss Harrigan’ works better for you.” She couldn’t help but giggle.

“So, Kelly, why did Dr. MacDonald refer you to me?”

Kelly reached for her purse on the nightstand to her right. She unzipped the bag, took out her half-bottle of schnapps, and handed it to Dr. Windham. The psychiatrist accepted it from her and studied its label with concern for a moment. Then she placed it on the nightstand.

“You’re, like, not taking it from me?” Kelly asked with a puzzled look, returning her purse to the nightstand next to the schnapps.

“We’ll be talking about that in a few minutes. But at the moment, I’m more concerned about why you think you need it?”

Kelly’s tears flowed and she pulled her knees up to her chest. “Because I feel like everything in my life is falling apart!”

“Everything?”

“Yes! Everything!”

“Wow! That’s really heavy if everything’s falling apart.”

“Well, it is!”

“Hmm? How are your grades?”

“They’re okay—like, I think so, anyway. I haven’t made, like, less than a ‘Bee-plus’ on anything so far.”

“Doesn’t sound like your grades are falling apart, then.”

“But they will now.”

“Oh? Why?”

“My wrist.”

“How does that affect your grades?”

“I’m left-handed. I can’t write or keyboard like this.”

“Hmm? I guess that would present a challenge, wouldn’t it?”

“Sure would, ’cause it, like, really sucks.”

“Your injury just happened tonight, Kelly,” Dr.Windham reminded her, trying to offer some perspective. “You haven’t even had time to think about dealing with it.”

“Guess not.”

“Apart from your grades, how are your classes?”

“Mostly boring.”

“Well, mostly suggests that sometimes you must find at least one class not boring.”

“My favorite class is Cheerleading.”

“That’s a class?”

“Uh-huh! For us cheerleaders, it replaces our regular Physical Education course. We do get full academic credit for it.”

“Is cheerleading important to you?”

“Yes—very!”

“Why?”

“Well, for one, when I’m cheering, I feel better and, my depressed feelings disappear awhile. Besides that, the teamwork helps. On a really bad day, I can forget about myself except for what I need to do for the cheer squad.”

“Do you get depressed feelings often?”

“Often enough.”

“Any other classes that you enjoy?”

“I’m liking my English class more and more all the time now,” admitted Kelly.

“What about your English class do you enjoy?”

“All of it!” Kelly replied, her grimace now morphing into a thoughtful grin. “I like literature, especially poetry. Writing poetry has helped me to compose cheers. But I’m into writing everything. So now I’m writing stories, essays, whatever.”

“Any other classes?”

“Computer Science.”

“That’s quite different from English or Cheerleading. Why do you like it?”

“Well, computers are easy for me, but I think what I like most is helping my lab partner out.”

“Tell me about that.”

“Holly doesn’t seem to understand our teacher’s explanations too well, so, I try to find, like, other ways to tell her or show her. And she really appreciates it.”

“So you enjoy helping out your classmate?”

“Mm-hmm. It’s kinda like cheerleading, too, but more personal.”

“I wouldn’t ’ve thought of it that way.”

“Well, Holly’s a real sweetheart, always nice, and kind to everybody. She comes across, though, as not being very bright, but she’s smarter than she thinks she is.”

“So how do you help her?”

“Like I said, it’s cheerleading but one-on-one. It’s mostly convincing her that she can do it.”

“That’s interesting.”

“It works. She really is smart,” Kelly reiterated. “She just has trouble believing it.”

“Would you say that she depends on you?”

Kelly thought a moment. “I guess so.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t sound like everything is falling apart for you. For example, you have things in a few of your classes that you’ve just described as working quite well.”

Dr. Windham decided to shift the direction of the interview. In all her experience working with adolescent patients, the most common problem faced by teenaged girls was teenaged boys.

“So then, Kelly, tell me about your boyfriends.”

The change in Kelly’s body language confirmed Dr. Windham’s guess. Her patient’s posture became more rigid, even defensive, while the psychiatrist noted the girl squirming below the waist. Kelly clenched her blanket with her free hand. So the doctor thought to respond with her own body language by deliberately relaxing. Placing her notepad on the nightstand, Theresa stretched her arms and back, then covered a yawn. Unconsciously, Kelly picked up on it and mirrored her psychiatrist’s moves back to her, relaxing her own posture, stretching out her arms and legs. She had fallen for Dr. Windham’s trick.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” denied Kelly as the doctor retrieved her notepad. “I was elected Freshman Homecoming Princess, but I had to withdraw this morning because I couldn’t find an escort for the ceremony.” The girl wept as she told her story. “I thought Brandon would, but he wasn’t at school. He was here.”

“Brandon?” Dr. Windham asked, not only to clarify, but also to protect his privacy as well.

“Doctor MacDonald’s son.”

Dr. Windham recalled how Brandon had briefly described Kelly to her:

“…Kelly Harrigan is kind of wild and has constantly teased me since we were in kindergarten. She just won’t leave me alone and sometimes she can really frighten me…”

Brandon had characterized Kelly as wild and even frightening. Now she decided that she needed to know how Kelly felt about Brandon. Yet she had to protect the privacy of both her patients.

“How long have you known Brandon?”

“Since kindergarten.”

“And how long have you had feelings for him?”

“Since kindergarten.”

“So then, the two of you have a long history?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Are you attracted to him sexually?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since the sixth grade—since when I, like, started to become a woman.”

“Does Brandon express any like interest in you?”

“He’s clueless! Somehow, he showed up at lunch with a new girlfriend yesterday. I wish I could understand how she got his attention. I’ve been trying for years!”

Kelly’s account was helping confirm Dr. Windham’s initial diagnosis of an autism spectrum disorder for Brandon. As attractive and direct with her feelings as Kelly was, for Brandon to miss such social cues as the girl displayed could not be regarded as normal behavior.

“So is Brandon why you started drinking?” Dr. Windham asked Kelly.

The girl tossed her hair back and pulled her knees up to her chest again and hugged them. “He was this week.”

“So when did you start drinking?”

“A couple of weeks before school started.”

“Why then?”

“Well, I don’t know, like—like, how to explain it,” she admitted. Kelly looked to the upper right corner of her eyes. “I’m worried about why we’re even here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been such a bitch to Caitlin.”

“Caitlin?”

“My little sister.”

“How old is she?”

“Ten.”

“So how’ve you been bitchy to her?”

“Mostly by shutting her out, not talking to her, not playing with her. I guess I’m jealous of her.”

“Jealous? How?”

“She’s so carefree. Nothing bothers her.”

“But apparently something bothers you.”

“I don’t understand why I’m here or what the world’s about,” the girl confessed. “So many wars, terrorism, so much suffering and poverty, school shootings… It’s all more than I can take sometimes.”

Precocious existential angst? Teri reflected a moment on how it got to her too. “Is that why you started drinking?”

“No,” Kelly denied. “But it made me feel, like, really sad.”

“And is that why you began drinking?”

“Yes.”

“Then does drinking help you feel happier?”

“No,” replied Kelly. “But it, like, helps me feel nothing, and sometimes that seems better.”

Three ladies of importance in Brandon’s life, his mother, his sister, and his girlfriend, had all convened in his hospital room.

“Doctor Windham has left orders for your medications tonight,” his mother told him. “It’s especially important for you to get some sleep before your testing tomorrow. Trish is the Charge Nurse on the ward and Valerie is your nurse. I love you.” She kissed her son’s cheek. “Now we need to be going. I promised Jenny’s mom that we’d have her home by curfew. So you girls wish Brandon a good night.”

“G’night, Li’l Bro!” Sheila said, kissing Brandon’s other cheek. “I love you!”

Jenny bent over her boyfriend and locked lips with him. And they took a moment, maybe too long?

“Alright, now!” Brandon’s mom called. “That’s enough tonsil hockey!” Jenny broke off her kiss, giggling along with Sheila.

“Jenny, Sis, Mom, I love all of you,” said Brandon. “Jenny, thanks for dressing up for me tonight and spending your evening.”

“I hope it’s just the first of many such evenings,” Jenny added with a hug. “And I love you, too.”

Valerie Martin showed at Brandon’s door. “Time to go, Libby,” the nurse announced. “Visiting hours are over.”

“Good night, Brandon!” Elizabeth waved to her son as she and Valerie ushered the girls from his room.