Connor let me into the small two-bedroom apartment he shared with his mom. I scanned the room and noted the sparse furnishings—a three-person couch, a small coffee table, side table, and lamp. No pictures hung on the walls, and I saw a couple of unopened boxes stacked in one corner. “How long have you two been here again?” I asked.

“A little over a year,” Connor said. “I know. Mom works a lot and hasn’t had a whole lot of time to decorate or anything. Plus we hope we aren’t going to be here forever.”

I tried not to look too sad for Connor when I told him, “I hope so, too.”

Connor barked as we unloaded our bags onto the small kitchen table. It only had two chairs. Just then, a bedraggled-looking blonde woman wearing a nightgown and a robe emerged from a small hallway. “You home, baby?” she said. Then she noticed me. She looked both surprised and embarrassed as she pulled her robe closed and tightened the belt. “Oh,” she breathed. “You brought a friend home.”

“Mom, this is Aven.”

She glanced briefly at my torso. “Hi, Aven. I’m sorry I’m not more presentable for you.”

“That’s okay,” I said to try to ease her embarrassment. “Connor told me you had to work all night.”

She gazed at Connor. “Yeah . . . I was just coming out to tell him there’s a bowl of macaroni and cheese in the fridge for him to heat up for dinner. I’m sorry I don’t have more—”

“No, that’s okay,” I said before she could finish.

“Mom, Aven just came over for a couple of hours to play video games. Her mom will be picking her up before dinner.”

Connor’s mom looked so embarrassed about the situation that I felt bad Connor hadn’t been able to give her some kind of warning about me coming over. “I’m sorry for the surprise, Mrs. Bradley. I’m happy to finally meet you.”

“I’m happy to meet you, too, Aven. It’s nice to see Connor with a friend. Perhaps you can come over again on another day when I’m a little bit more myself.”

“Oh yeah, I’d love to.” I don’t know what got into me, but then I said to her, “And maybe you can come to the next Tourette’s support meeting with us.”

Connor jerked his head at me, and I immediately realized she knew nothing about it—something I think I had already suspected. Her eyes were large with surprise. “Tourette’s support meeting?” she said slowly.

Connor shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, Aven and I went to a support meeting one day while you were working.”

“Connor, I wish you would tell me about these things.” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “How did you get there?”

“Aven’s mom drove us.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, noticing the look of concern on her face. “We’re not, like, a psycho family or anything. We’re totally normal, except for . . . ” I motioned toward my shoulders with my head. “But my parents had nothing to do with that.”

She gave me a tired smile. “I’m sure your family is lovely.” She turned her attention back to Connor. “I’m happy you’re going to a support group, baby. Just . . . when Aven’s mom comes to pick her up, I’d like to meet her, please.”

Connor nodded. She went to him and kissed the top of his head. “I’m going back to sleep. Could you wake me up in a little bit so I can make myself more presentable?” Connor nodded again. Then she walked back down the small hallway and disappeared into a dark bedroom.

I turned to Connor. “Your mom’s nice. I don’t know why—”

He cut me off. “I wish you hadn’t told her about the support group. She doesn’t have time to go, and now she’ll just feel bad about it.”

“Why don’t you at least give her a chance to decide what she wants to do?”

“She doesn’t need any more stress than she already has,” he said.

“I don’t think the support group would stress her out. I’m sure she’s more stressed out not knowing what’s going on with you.”

“She’s better off without having to deal with me.”

I suddenly saw things so clearly. It wasn’t at all that Connor’s mom couldn’t stand him, as he had said. It was that Connor couldn’t stand himself. He blamed himself for all his mom’s problems—his dad leaving, this tiny apartment, her hectic work schedule. I knew he felt it was all his fault. But from what I’d just seen, I strongly doubted she felt the same way. “Connor, she’s your mom. She doesn’t deal with you. She loves you. Why don’t you let her—”

“Why are you always trying to fix me?” Connor snapped. “Why don’t you just be my friend, Aven? I don’t need to be fixed.”

“I don’t want to fix you,” I said. “I don’t think you’re broken or anything. I just want to help you. Friends help each other, don’t they?”

“I’d rather you just play video games with me. That’s how you can help me.”

I lowered my eyes and ran my rainbow-striped flat over the dingy carpet. “Okay,” I said. “But I won’t stop going to the meetings. You can come if you want.” I shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

Connor’s face softened, and he grinned. “Yeah, you do. And yeah, I’ll come.”