My husband and I are blessed with five children evenly spaced out with two years in between them. They really are good kids but sometimes I wish that the two oldest girls would have a bit less of drama in their relationships. Well, the oldest one, 19, left for college a few weeks ago and I was spending a “girls’ Friday night” with Cheryl, my 17 year old daughter since my husband was away on business as usual. The other kids were in their rooms, I thought. Cheryl and I had been watching romantic comedies and chatting until well past midnight when I heard a car drive away which was strange since our neighborhood is very calm at night. Soon afterwards the front door was slowly and carefully opened and Mike, 15, tiptoed in. Well, in those shoes that really was the only angle his feet could be in. In the few seconds before he noticed us I could see from his satisfied face that he had had a very good evening. The smeared lipstick on his otherwise immaculately made up face confirmed this. I had not had the least suspicion of his leanings! Where did I go wrong?

Think Like A Girl
By Vilastis
Two friends make a strange bet that goes off in, well, a pretty predictable direction considering what website this is.

Harry Potter and the Trouble With Neurotypicals: Book Four.
Or, "Autistic Potter and the Goblet of Fire."

Notes: I do not own this. J. K. Rowling does. This is just fan fiction. No money is being made. Not by me, anyway.

There may be a few bits and pieces lifted word-for-word from the canon material. I tried to do that as little as possible, though. And the more this deviates from canon, the less that will happen. But some descriptions and things like that are too good to skip or try to reword.

I had been invited by one of my great friends, Magalie, to her birthday party. We had always been neighbours, except that in that year we were not going to the same school. Her parents had enrolled her in a private school for girls as I entered high school at a public high school.

I had not foreseen that I would be the only boy at the party. It bothered me at first but it was more because I did not know any of her friends.

This one started as an entry to the Feb 2016 Crush Mini-Competition. The name came from the game (a former, temporary addiction) but the game has nothing to do with the story. As happens on occasions, the story kept growing, and I was only half way through when the competition deadline went whistling past. I persevered though.

I actually thought I hadn’t finished it, so it was a little surprise, when I dug it out earlier today, to find that it was complete, albeit that most of it seemed to have been written on my phone, which meant that parts were all but unreadable, thanks to the Autokorrect Nazis in my former piece of junk. For that, and many other reasons, I will never be tempted to buy a Widows phone again.

Anyway, I’ve spent an enjoyable day reacquainting myself with this little piece, and fixing (I hope) most if not all of the buggerups. I hope you all find it just as enjoyable. Please share your thoughts and feelings at the end. Remember, it takes twenty-six muscles to frown, four to smile, and only one to click on that comment button (then maybe one or two more to add some text). I really love hearing from you. Private messages are good if you want to stay anonymous.