Focused

by Alyson Gerber

  “Thank you,” I say, because I’m pretty sure it’s going to help.

  “It’s important for you to remember that what you need is going to change as you learn to manage your symptoms. Each day will be a little different.”

  “Is that a thing?” I ask. “Because I can kind of tell that some days are worse.”

  “Definitely. That’s true for people without ADHD, too. Some days we’re more distracted than others.”

  “Oh, yeah, duh,” I say. “That makes sense.”

  “I’m very impressed that you came to see me today. It shows a lot of initiative, and I’m confident that if you continue to speak up and ask for the help you need, you’ll grow a lot from this experience.”

  Thanks to Ms. Curtis, getting an F doesn’t feel that bad anymore. It’s a chance to turn everything around.

  I sprint outside and over to the pickup line, because even though I know I did the right thing by going to see Ms. Curtis, I still feel bad that I kept Mom waiting. Only, when I get outside and see Red’s car out front, I freeze. I completely forgot that Red’s mom was picking me up today. I force myself to keep walking. I need to get in the car and act like everything is totally fine and we’re best friends, the way we were before this year started, because that’s what I want more than anything.

  “Everything okay?” Mrs. Levine asks as soon as I open the door and slide into the backseat.

  “I’m sorry I’m late.” I look at her in the mirror.

  “It’s okay,” she says.

  “What she really means is you’re rude, and now she’s late for her next appointment.” Red doesn’t turn around to look at me.

  “That’s not what I mean. It really is okay, Clea,” Mrs. Levine says. “There are snacks, if you’re hungry.”

  “Thank you.”

  Red turns up the music, even though it’s funk, which he hates, and opens the window, like he doesn’t even want to breathe the same air as me. Cold wind whips against my face.

  When I get home, Mom and Henley are still out, so I let Hilda run around in our backyard for a few minutes, and then I make a snack—apple, banana, and peanut butter. My stomach is growling, and I can tell I’m hungry, even if my brain is busy thinking about homework and how mad Mom is going to be that I got an F on my English test.

  I eat and work on science at the kitchen table. It’s quiet, except for the wind rustling the big tree by the window. When I look up again, Mom is standing in front of me holding her phone up to her ear with one hand. She has a box of freshly baked snickerdoodle cookies in the other. One of Henley’s cartoons is playing in the family room. I didn’t hear the garage door open and close or Henley run in or anyone take off their shoes and coats. I keep waiting for Mom to hang up so I can tell her about my test, and she can tell me how upset and disappointed she is in me.

  “I just got home. I’m with Clea now,” she says into the phone, and then hands it to me. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

  “Hi, Dad.” My voice is soft. I sound more like Henley than like me.

  “Ms. Curtis just called to tell us you had a tough day,” Dad says. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you can turn things around.”

  “What if I can’t?” I ask.

  He pauses, like he’s thinking. “You’ll get back up and try again. It’s not like before. We know what’s going on now, and you have a lot of people rooting for you. All you have to do is ask for help.”

  “Okay,” I say, because I know he’s right, and it’s different now. I’m not alone.

  “Just keep working hard. I love you.”

  “I will. I love you, too.” I hang up and put the phone down on the counter.

  Mom wraps her arms all the way around me, holding on as tight as she can, like she’s afraid if she lets go, I might crumble, and I guess I’m sort of scared of that, too.

  I lean into her and rest my head on her shoulder, and she scratches my back, drawing circles and hearts and all the letters in my name, until the alarm on my phone beeps. I switch it off.

  Mom tucks my hair behind my ear.

  “So, you know I got an F?” I ask.

  She nods. “I also know that you went to Ms. Curtis to ask her for help after school. I’m very impressed.”

  “You are? Are you sure? I mean, I failed.”

  “No, you didn’t,” she says. “You showed us that you’re not going to give up.”

  “I’m already missing two practices and a tournament. I don’t want to miss anything else. And I know you’re probably happy about that, but I’m not.”

  “That’s not true,” she says. “If I’m being honest, I want you to have a break from trying to do everything all at once, but—”

  “I don’t want a break.” My voice sounds strained.

  “I know,” Mom says. “What I was going to say is that it’s hard to learn to balance priorities at every age, and even though I hate watching you struggle and all I want to do is make things easier for you, I know the best way for you to learn how to juggle the things that are important to you is to practice.”

  “You don’t have to worry. I can deal with things being hard,” I say. “I’m kind of used to it.”

  “Well, I’m very proud of you for not giving up on chess and fighting for what you want. That takes real perseverance.”

  “Thanks,” I say, because I know she’s right. That’s something I’ve learned from having ADHD. “Okay, so, I really don’t get why you’re not freaking out about my grade.”

  “Because I believe in you. I know you’re capable of doing well in everything you set your mind to. But it’s going to take time for you to get there. I’m learning to adjust and trying to put myself in your position so I can support you.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “It helps a lot.”

  “I’m glad. That’s all I want to do.”

  “Ms. Curtis told me that what I need is going to keep changing,” I say, in case Mom doesn’t know about that part.

  “Then I’ll have to keep adapting,” Mom says. “We all will.”

  “I think we’ll get better at it the more we do it.”

  “Me too,” she says. “How was your stomach today?”

  “A lot better.”

  “Good. I spoke with Dr. Gold earlier and she thought your stomachache might go away, but if it starts hurting again at any point, I want you to tell me.”

  “Okay. I will,” I say. “Oh, I forgot to ask—can I go downtown with the chess team on Friday after school? Sanam’s mom can drive us.”

  “Of course,” Mom says. “I’ll give her a call to say thank you.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “So what do you think? Should we eat some of these cookies?” Mom asks.

  “Duh,” I say. “But we should probably let Henley in on our secret party.”

  Mom rubs my back. “You’re a good big sister.”

  “Henley!” I shout. “We’re having cookies before dinner.”

  “YES!” she shrieks and runs into the kitchen, like she’s ready to celebrate. And I am, too. It feels like everything is about to get better.

  ON FRIDAY, I wake up early and try to look extra pretty, because even though I’m nervous to go downtown with the team and Red, now that we’re not friends anymore, I’m excited to hang out with Sanam and maybe Dylan, too.

  School is basically the same—still bad. Maybe a little worse actually, because ever since I missed practice, people on the team whisper about me when I walk by.

  At lunch, I go to the library. I pick an empty table as far away from the librarian’s desk as possible, because even though it’s supposed to be quiet, she whispers and rustles papers, which bothers me. And I’ve decided that from now on, I’m going to do everything I can to help myself, like Sanam and Ms. Curtis said I should.

  I open my outline and am about to start working on my paper when Dylan sits down across from me.

  “Hey,” he whispers.

  “Hey.” I look up at him. His
hair is shorter and a little less floppy than usual. He looks even cuter with a new cut, because his eyes aren’t hidden. They’re big and blue and looking back at me. My stomach flips.

  “What do you think of the chess book?” he asks.

  “I’m only on chapter three.”

  “Oh. Okay. No pressure. If you’re not into it, it’s cool.”

  “I am,” I say quickly.

  “You don’t have to be.”

  “I know. But I like that it’s a different way to look at chess. It’s just that I’m doing this new thing where I read everything twice so I don’t miss as much.” I fiddle with the rubbery part of my pencil. I want to tell him the truth. “Because I have ADHD. I found out last week, so I’m trying to follow all the suggestions.”

  “That must be hard,” he says.

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “But it’s good, too. Or at least I think it might be soon.”

  “I bet it helps to know what’s actually going on.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “It does.”

  “Cool.” He pushes back his hair. “Are you going downtown tonight?”

  I nod. “But I feel weird, because it’s a team thing, and I’m not really—I got a bad grade on a test, so I can’t go to the tournament or practice until Tuesday or maybe longer, if I don’t get at least a B on this paper.” I look down at my notebook.

  “That’s why you weren’t at chess,” he says, like maybe he thought there was another reason. I should ask him what people are saying, but I don’t think I want to know.

  “It’s going to take time for me to learn how to deal with having ADHD.”

  “That makes sense,” Dylan says.

  “There’s probably no way I’m going to make the top twelve before camp.”

  “You never know.” He shrugs. “It could still happen. Just play your best. That’s all you can do.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I will.”

  “You’re really good. I know I said you weren’t, but I was just—”

  “A jerk,” I fill in.

  “Pretty much. I’m sorry. It wasn’t cool at all. I was jealous—of you and Red.”

  “Me too,” I say. “And BTW, I would never quit chess no matter what you or anyone else says.”

  “Good.” He smiles at me.

  I smile back. “I should give you my number, so when I text you all my amazing chess ideas you’ll know who it is.”

  “You should.” He passes his phone to me under the table.

  I save my number and give it back to him. Only this time, when I hand him his phone, our fingers touch. His are warm and soft and I’m pretty sure he keeps his fingers next to mine for a few extra seconds, like maybe he doesn’t want to let go, either.

  When I get to science, Sanam and I collect all the materials we need for our crystallization lab. We both put on gloves and goggles. I read the directions out loud twice and then we get to work, dividing up the tasks, like the lab is a choreographed dance we know by heart. I mix the alum into a beaker with hot water, stir, and repeat, until the solution is saturated, while Sanam uses string to tie pipe cleaners onto wood craft sticks.

  We’re quiet, concentrating on our jobs, until everything is set up and ready to go. “You were right about talking to Ms. Curtis,” I say. “It helped.”

  “I knew it! That’s awesome.” She picks up the stirrer and rests it on top of the jar so the pipe cleaner dangles inside, but doesn’t touch the glass. Then I pour in the solution.

  “In chess, Quinn said you’re not friends with Red anymore, because you want to be boyfriend-girlfriend and he doesn’t.” She sounds nervous. “I don’t care if you like him. We can like the same boy. That’s cool with me, but when I asked you, you said you didn’t and I just want to know.”

  I want to say the truth, but I’m scared if I tell her that what happened at the raffle wasn’t a one-time thing and I actually blurt stuff out all the time, she won’t want to be my friend, either. Sanam and I are real friends now, who tell each other secrets, and I don’t want that to change. She trusted me and I know I can trust her back. “Red and I aren’t friends anymore. But I never liked him like that. I would have told you if I did.”

  “Oh. Okay,” she says, like now she’s really confused. “What happened?”

  “We—” I stop myself and take a deep breath. “I lose it sometimes. I say things out loud that I really don’t mean to.”

  “Like what happened at the raffle?”

  I nod. “The medicine helps, but I need to practice and get better at staying calm. And Red doesn’t want to be friends anymore, because I’m embarrassing and he’s sick of me. I don’t really blame him. I am, too. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  “Wait, really? I mean, I get that you spilled his family secrets and that was bad, but still—”

  “I don’t think it was because I did it once. It was more like a lot of the same mistake that added up into something bigger that I can’t take back now even though I really wish I could.”

  “That stinks,” she says. “Do you think you can change?”

  “I want to.”

  “I bet you will. I’m pretty sure that’s how it works. You can make most things happen if you keep trying.”

  “I really hope you’re right,” I say, because I need that to be true.

  After we finish setting up the sugar and salt solutions, I realize I haven’t told anyone about my crush, which is especially weird for me, since I usually can’t keep things like that to myself. Plus, I’m pretty sure a crush isn’t official until you tell someone, and I want Sanam to know. So I lean in and whisper, “I like Dylan.”

  “OMG! Really?” Her eyes get wide. “I love it! We could be best friends going out with best friends!”

  * * *

  After school, Sanam’s mom picks us up. I love how their car smells new, like leather and soap, and how the backseat isn’t covered in crumbs or sticky fingerprints or toys. It makes me feel grown-up and important.

  When we get downtown, her mom drops us off in front of The Hideout, which is sort of like a coffee shop that sells fancy pastries and has big comfy chairs and a fireplace. “I’ll be here at five to pick you girls up,” she says. “Have fun.”

  “Thank you,” we both reply at the exact same time.

  I follow Sanam out of the car. My heart starts beating so fast it hurts. “I’m not ready to go in yet.” My voice is soft.

  “Let’s take a lap.” She turns away from The Hideout.

  Even though it’s cold, the air feels good as we walk in a loop past the stores in the center of town. “I haven’t really seen Red since our fight and I don’t know what it’s going to be like now that we’re not friends,” I say.

  “I get why you’re nervous, but I mean, just because you’re not best friends anymore doesn’t mean you have to be rude to each other.”

  “True,” I say.

  “Maybe act normal and see how that goes.”

  “But what if he ignores me?”

  “Then we’ll leave and get hot chocolate at Sweet Sadie’s. We don’t need the team to have fun.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”

  “We probably need a secret signal,” she says. “That way the other person will know if we want to leave.”

  “How about a peace sign? Like peace, we’re out of here.”

  “Yes, that’s perfect,” she says. “Do you want to take another lap?”

  I shake my head. “I’m ready.” I open the door, and we walk into The Hideout.

  Dylan and Red are sitting in front of the fireplace.

  Sanam looks at me, like she’s waiting for me to go first. I’d rather get hot chocolate and avoid Red for a few more minutes, but I know it’s better to say hi while Quinn isn’t here to make everything worse. I take a deep breath and walk over to them. Sanam stays right by my side. She slides into the empty seat by Red, and I sit next to Dylan. I’m nervous and sweating a little. I hope he can’t tell.

  “Big turnout,” Sanam says.<
br />
  Red smiles. “Two dudes. Lots of team spirit.”

  “Where is everyone?” I ask and act like everything is totally fine and normal.

  “We were trying to figure that out while you two were walking around outside.” Dylan looks right at me.

  “Busted,” I say.

  “What were you doing out there anyway?” he asks.

  “Talking about—girl stuff,” Sanam jumps in.

  “Oh,” he says. “That’s cool.”

  We’re all quiet for a few seconds. No one says anything.

  “I need a refill. Want one?” Red looks at Sanam and then at Dylan. He doesn’t look at me. It’s like I’m not even here. My heart sinks.

  “Dude, I’ll help,” Dylan says to Red.

  Once the boys are gone, Sanam leans in and whispers, “You okay?”

  I want to say not really and flash her the peace sign, but I grip the edge of my chair and take a deep breath, because I know if I say that, she’ll get up and leave, and I don’t want Sanam to miss out on having fun with Red because of me. I want to be the kind of friend who makes things better, not worse. “Yeah. I’m okay,” I say. “Thanks for asking.”

  When Dylan and Red get back, they’re each holding two hot chocolates.

  Dylan hands one to me. “I didn’t know if you wanted whipped cream, but I, um, got it for you because it’s way better than no whipped cream.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “You made the right choice.”

  “Phew.” He grins.

  When I look up again, Quinn is walking over to us with a bunch of other girls from the team. She’s wearing a cropped sweatshirt that says, Okay, But First Coffee, like she’s so adult and actually drinks anything other than sugary frozen cappuccinos, when she obviously doesn’t. “Why are you here?” She looks down at me. “I’m not trying to be rude, but you got kicked out of chess because you’re stupid, remember? So, bye.” She waves me away.

  A few of the girls laugh.

  I can’t let her talk to me like I’m dumb and I don’t matter. “You wish,” I say. “I’ll be there on Tuesday.”