Chapter 1
“Thank you for finding the time to meet with me today, Mr Warren,” Doctor What’s-His-Face says to my dad as they shake hands.
I’ve seen this doctor millions of times this year, but I can never remember his name.
Maybe I should ask. Dad says we’ll be seeing him a lot more often now, but I’m not good with remembering people’s names anyway.
I only remember my mum and dad’s names: Jenny and Eric.
And I’ve recently been getting better at calling Jacques—my new best friend—by his name.
I don’t have many friends at school. People think I’m weird.
But since Jacques moved in next door, he wanted to be my friend.
I think he’s going to the same school as me this year, which is so cool because I finally get to have a friend.
I just hope he doesn’t ditch me when he finds new school friends.
I like having him round my house every night for dinner.
But I do get jealous sometimes. Mum always hugs him and tells him how handsome he looks.
I don’t think she ever says that to me. Jac’s mum is nice.
She always plays with me when she comes round, unlike Mum.
I dash into the doctor’s white office, diving onto the blue sofa in the corner and climbing it.
“Alexander, get down from there,” my dad hisses.
The doctor laughs. “That’s quite alright. Please, sit, Mr Warren.” He motions at the chair for my dad, then looks at me and gives me a wide smile. “Hello, Alexander.”
It’s creepy. Like those villains in cartoon films.
I don’t know what to do, so I start bouncing on the sofa, my dark brown hair whipping into my eyes with each spring. My dad pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits down on the blue chair by the desk in the corner of the room, facing me. The doctor sits next to him at the desk with his back to me.
I don’t like listening to adult conversations; they’re boring. But every time we’re here, the doctor and Dad talk about me, so I like to listen to what they’re saying, even though I understand very little of it.
“I don’t want to keep Alexander in here longer than he has to be, so I’ll just cut right to the chase. After going through all of our assessments on him and the information you’ve given us, it does look like your son meets the criteria for ADHD.”
See! What is that word? They say it every time. I need to remember to ask Dad what it means.
Shrugging, I yank my shoes off my feet, throw them across the room, and continue my bouncing. It’s not as soft as the sofa at home, but it does the job of getting me high in the air, and it keeps me occupied as they discuss boring stuff that I don’t understand.
“Alex, sit down. You should be listening to this. It’s for your own benefit,” Dad scolds.
I end my last bounce by throwing myself into a sitting position and huff in frustration. I don’t want to stop bouncing. It’s fun. What else am I going to do in this plain, boring room?
“It’s not anything to fear. You can rest on that thought now…” The doctor’s voice trails off as I search around the room, looking for something else to do.
“As you know, my wife refuses to believe it’s ADHD. She thinks…”
Spotting some pictures on the wall next to the door, I climb off the stiff sofa in my socks and get closer.
Someone drew these. They don’t use as many colours as I do, but they’re not bad.
I run my small finger along the lines of various colours, an oily texture coating my skin.
They must have used crayons. I notice my fingernails are dirty from playing in the sand with Jacques yesterday.
I need to ask Dad to clean them later; I don’t like having dirty nails.
Tracing each shape, I think of ways to make this drawing brighter, but I also notice there’s something off about the drawings…
They’re missing green. My favourite colour. I love it. It makes me happy. Who in the world would draw a picture without the colour green? Green is everywhere.
Coming up with an idea, I put my hands on my hips and look around the room.
There’s no clean paper or colouring pencils in sight, which is weird because last time we were here, they had plenty of colours and stuff for me.
I spent almost an entire day colouring with every shade of green that I could possibly find.
“I’m not saying your wife isn’t right to have her concerns…”
I walk over to the desk, lean both of my elbows on my dad’s thigh, and look up into his blue eyes, the same colour as mine. “Dad, can I do some colouring?” I whisper.
Dad looks away from me and back at the doctor.
He sighs. “I have not been able to redirect his attention to anything else, as you can tell. All he wants to do is colour. He’s obsessed with green.
We’ve recently had to add it to his room.
This is probably the longest he’s been fixated on something.
It’s like he can’t think about anything else. ”
“Yes, yes. I did see that on the assessment. It’s hyperfixation.
Though not an official symptom of ADHD, some individuals do experience it.
” The old-looking doctor gives me a kind smile.
“It’s not a problem, is it, Alex?” He looks back to my dad.
“Mr Warren, I assure you, we will support you and your son as best we can. I’ll have my assistant email you resources for the time being and schedule another meeting where we can discuss the course of action. ”
“And you’re sure it’s ADHD?” Dad asks. He sounds worried.
“Is the sky blue?” The doctor laughs, and Dad blows air out of his mouth.
“Thank you, Doctor Emerson. Truly. You don’t know how much it means to us to finally have answers.”
That’s his name!
Both of them stand and start chatting again while Dad walks over to where my shoes are on the floor and picks them up. I bounce on my toes with impatience as he takes his time coming over to me and sliding them back on my feet, but there’s finally a smile on his face.
We say bye to the doctor and walk out of the office.
Dad holds my hand all the way through the creepy white corridors as we walk to the car.
He squeezes my hand a little tighter when we walk through the big car park.
There are other kids with their parents getting out of their cars and walking into the building.
Maybe I’m not the only weird kid out there.
“Stay here. Be careful of the cars,” Dad says before walking to the other side of the car and putting some files away in the glovebox.
Dad opens the door for me, and I climb into my booster seat. He clasps the belt into the buckle and smiles at me as he ruffles my hair and shuts the door.
“Hey!” I giggle.
I want to look like my dad when I grow up. All the ladies say he’s ‘handsome’ and that I look just like a younger version of him. My dad always tells me that he and Mum are married, so whenever the women leave, he scrunches his face and sticks out his tongue like they’re gross. It’s funny.
He drives out of the car park and looks at me in the rearview mirror. His eyes are watering, which confuses me. He was smiling a minute ago.
“Are you okay, Dad?” I ask.
“I’m fine, buddy. We’ll have to tell Mummy our news later when she gets home from work.”
The drive home from this office is quite long, and Dad’s been silent for ages, which is weird because we always talk about random things, but it feels off this time. So weird, that a sickly feeling settles in my stomach.
The uncomfortable feeling inside of me slowly disappears as I rest my chin in my hand and watch the trees pass by in a blur of green.
I mindlessly drag the green pencil up and down the paper.
Mum and Dad have been arguing for hours now.
I can hear their muffled voices through my bedroom wall.
I hate it when they argue. They’re so loud, and my dad is always upset the next day.
It also stops me from drawing anything that isn’t random scratches.
I can only focus on their screaming and not what I want to draw.
And then Dad doesn’t want to play with me because he’s too sad. I get mad at my mum when that happens.
When I grow up, I’m going to get a job as a professional colourer. Is that even a word? I press the pencil to my lips, thinking…
It is now.
Alexander, the great big professional colourer!
Suddenly, the door to their bedroom slams shut, making me jump and drop the pencil.
Footsteps thud loudly past my door and down the stairs.
“Jenny!” Dad roars.
Quicker footsteps follow.
I creep towards my door, being careful to not make any noise, and open it.
My bedroom is opposite the stairs, so I can see them at the bottom, arguing by the open front door as the rain pours heavily outside.
A sight that I’m used to seeing, but I’ve never seen my mum holding a big bag when this happens.
She’s dressed in her usual green button-up top.
I don’t like when she wears my favourite colour.
It doesn’t make me feel as safe when it’s on her.
“He’s only seven, Jenny. We need to help him through this.”
“I’ve had enough, Eric. I can’t handle it anymore. This isn’t ADHD. This is so much worse, and it’s going to ruin him like it ruined us,” Mum cries. “It’s too much. He’s too much.” She points towards my room, still looking at Dad.
My eyes prickle at my mum’s words.
“You’re letting it ruin us. He needs our help!”
“Please, Jenny, we can do this. We need to do this for him. Together.”
“Goodbye, Eric.” Mum leaves through the door and slams it shut behind her, making it echo throughout the warmly coloured house. I wish there was some green paint so I could add a bit of colour. We have this huge house, and it’s all brown and white.
Dad hangs his head. He lets out a sigh and squats down with his arms on his knees, burying his face in his hands.
I open my door fully and slowly make my way down the wooden stairs. “Dad?”
His head quickly turns to me, looking at me with red eyes, and he smiles. The same smile the doctor gave me earlier today when he delivered some ADHD nonsense.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Where did Mum go?”
“She’s, uh… she’s… gone on a very long holiday, Alex,” he stutters.
Something doesn’t sound right about the way he says that. I’m not sure what it is, but it gives me a sick feeling in my stomach like earlier.
“W-when will she be back?” I ask. I can feel pressure behind my eyes. Something isn’t right.
“She’s… um…” A tear slips down his cheek, and he drops his head again. “I’m not sure, Alex.”
I don’t know why I want to cry. Mum never paid any attention to me.
I don’t really know her. I try to show her all my love—like Jacques said I should—but she never pays attention to me.
She always kicks and pushes me away. Sometimes she even leaves bruises on me.
They hurt for days. I always try to tell Dad about them, but whenever I do, Mum always shows up, and I get too scared of her reaction to tell Dad.
Maybe she’s just going to take a break from us, and she will come back all happy and finally love me. Maybe she’ll stop hurting me, too.
I wake up the next morning to my dad nudging me gently. Is Mum back now? If she is, I’ll make sure to love her better. Maybe that’s why she didn’t say goodbye to me.
“Hey, buddy,” he says softly.
I rub my eyes, puffy from all the crying I did last night.
Sitting up, I stretch my arms over my head and yawn.
Dad is crouched next to my bed—dressed in his white shirt and black trousers—and smiling, but it’s not his usual wide smile, and he has dark circles under his eyes.
Plus, his hair looks a lot like mine when I wake up in the morning.
“I know you’re upset about your mum, but…” He pulls out the softest teddy bear I’ve ever seen in my life from behind his back, and my jaw drops with a gasp. “I thought this little guy might cheer you up.” He grins.
The sleepiness disappears quickly, and I snatch the teddy bear, cuddling him into me. He’s so fluffy and soft. And the best thing about him? He’s green. He even smells like a fresh forest. I smile widely at my dad, but he has tears in his eyes.
“Thank you, Daddy. I’m going to keep him forever.”
He laughs and messes up my hair. “What are you going to call him?”
Now that’s an impossible question. What if I forget his name?
I press my finger to my chin and hum. “I don’t know yet.” I shrug.
“Well, you have an important decision to make, bud. Breakfast is ready downstairs,” he says as he gets up and leaves.
I jump up and down on my bed, letting out an excited squeal. Pulling the teddy away from me, I look into its beady black eyes. Maybe this teddy won’t leave me like my mum did. He might even love me back, because I love him already.
Today is going to be a good day.