I was tired of feeling sad.

Mom said she wasn’t a real friend and this time I didn’t get mad.

Ellie wasn’t my friend.

She was mean.

I didn’t like mean people.

Why did my chest hurt?

“Please, just talk to me, Flynn!”

I didn’t want to talk to Ellie.

But she was looking sad and I didn’t like her to be sad, like I was sad.

I had to go to the cafeteria and eat my lunch before Stu took it. I was hungry. Mom had packed me chicken salad. It was my favorite.

“I’m sorry! Can I come over?” she asked.

I liked her coming to my house. It made me happy. She wasn’t mean when she was at my house.

“There’s the freak! Freaky Flynn!” Dania yelled and Ellie laughed. She looked at me and her face looked funny.

I got mad.

“You can’t come over! I hate you!” I yelled to Ellie and turned around and ran down the hallway.

I was sad when I went home. I didn’t eat any banana bread and Mom said she was worried about me.

I told her about Ellie and she got upset. She said she was going to call the school and make them do something.

I told her not to.

I didn’t want Ellie to get into trouble.

I told Ellie I hated her but I didn’t hate her.

She still made my stomach feel funny but now she made me sad all the time.

She never laughed anymore.

Mom said she wanted to call the principal. That maybe he could help me. That he’d make sure Stu and Dania and Ellie couldn’t be mean to me anymore.

I liked the sound of that.

I didn’t want Ellie to get into trouble but I didn’t want them being mean to me either.

I said okay. And Mom smiled. She said she’d handle it.

Mom was yelling at me to get up. She was shaking me and I hit her to make her stop.

“Flynn! We have to get out of the house!” she yelled.

I opened my eyes and my room was full of smoke. I started coughing and my eyes stung. It smelled bad. Like when Mom would burn the pot roast.

“Hurry up, Flynn! The house is on fire!” she yelled, shaking me again.

I didn’t like her shaking me but I was scared. The house was on fire. The smoke was bad. I couldn’t breathe.

I coughed and coughed and coughed.

Mom pushed open my door and the smoke was worse in the hallway.

I started crying.

“Where’s Marty?” I yelled but Mom kept telling me to go down the stairs and get outside.

Where was my dog? Where was Marty?

I cried harder and yelled at Mom to find Marty.

She was crying too. We ran out of the house. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes burned. Mom hugged me and I let her.

“Mom, go get Marty!” I yelled but she kept saying she couldn’t.

The firemen came and started spraying stuff at my house. I yelled at them to get my dog. I was getting really angry that no one was listening to me.

“Where’s my dog?” I screamed and Mom tried to hug me again. I pushed her and she fell.

One of the firemen tried to pull me back and I tried to hit him.

“You need to calm down, young man. And don’t hit your mother,” he said. He was scary with his helmet on.

“He has Asperger’s. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing,” my mom said to the firefighter. He looked at me. I didn’t want him to look at me.

I knew what I was doing. I was mad. I wanted to hit them for not getting my dog.

Mom was crying, telling me it would be okay.

I just wanted my dog.

Someone told Mom that it looked like the fire had been set on purpose. Mom started crying harder.

No one ever got my dog.

Mom said he had gone to heaven with my dad. That they’d play together now.

I didn’t want my dad to have Marty in heaven! I wanted him here!

I yelled and got angry but I didn’t hit her. I didn’t want the fireman to yell at me again.

Marty was dead.

My house had been burned down.

I cried all night until Mom took me to a hotel.

28

-Ellie-

We weren’t touching anymore. But I could still feel the heat of Flynn’s skin on mine. I was staring at the ceiling while Flynn slept beside me. We had kept the door to the balcony open a crack and I could still hear the thundering waves. A chilly fall breeze filtered into the room, making me cold.

I shivered and pulled the blanket up around my shoulders. Murphy’s light snores echoed in tune with Flynn’s heavy breathing.

My mind and heart were reeling and I couldn’t sleep. Making love to Flynn had been incredible. Afterwards Flynn didn’t know what to do. The aftermath was a lot more awkward than the actual act had been. He had been shy and uncomfortable, not meeting my eyes.

“Did you like it?” he asked, chewing on his bottom lip. I had pulled the sheet up to cover my naked br**sts and Flynn fidgeted, his arm still wrapped around me but his fingers were flexing in and out as though he wanted to pull away.

“Of course I did. Did you?” I asked him, feeling suddenly insecure. Oh god, what if it sucked? What if I sucked? And I knew, without a doubt, that Flynn would tell me. If he announced that I was a lousy lay, I think I’d lose it.

Flynn had peeked up at me through the strands of dark hair that had fallen in his face. “I want to do it again,” he said softly, smiling. The sickening sense of dread evaporated in an instant and I laughed. A happy and contented sound.

We hadn’t had sex again but there was lots more kissing and touching. Flynn was particularly fond of my stomach and of course my br**sts. He spent a lot of time and attention to those areas. And I for one wasn’t complaining.