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do.”
    A [turns to look at you]: “Like who? Who else besides you and Ms. Krueger?”
    D: “Your friends. Your teachers. PROBABLY. I mean, it’s a big deal. You could be left back
    — not that you WOULD, but I wouldn’t be too happy about that — ”
    A [holding up his hand]: “Stop, OK? Stop lecturing me.”
    D: “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to — ”
    A: “EVERYBODY lectures me, Ducky. I don’t need you to join in.”
    D: “I’m just trying to be a FRIEND, that’s all — ”
    A: “Friends leave you alone. I thought YOU re a friend. You were the only one who let me be, Ducky. Up until now.”
    D: “OK. OK. I’ll stop.”
    Alex walks away. You follow.
    And you feel like a total wimp.
    10:21 P.M.
    Still Wimpy
    After All These Hours
    Sleep.
    That’s what Alex does when he’s cutting school.
    HOW CAN A PERSON SLEEP SO MUCH?
    Does he NEED it? Does he have some kind of weird sleep disorder? Is THAT the problem?
    Maybe he can’t help staying home from school.
    So go ahead and open your big mouth, Ducky. Tell him how to lead his life. Like you know everything.
    He was just starting to feel better. You could SEE it.
    And you set him back.
    NICE.
    WORK.
    11:47 P.M.
    You’re nuts.
    Alex doesn’t have a sleep disorder.
    YOU’RE the one with the sleep disorder.
    Your mind is so full of nonsense that you can’t think straight.
    You did not say TOO MUCH.
    The truth is, you didn’t say ENOUGH.
    He WANTS you to be silent, he LIKES it because it doesn’t CHALLENGE him, it lets him
    think: Hey, it’s ALL RIGHT to cut school and flunk out because DUCKY doesn’t mind, HE
    doesn’t think it’s so bad, and he’s my BEST FRIEND.
    What you did was the OPPOSITE of friendship. You backed down. You apologized. You
    promise to keep all this to yourself.
    You were afraid to get him angry. You were afraid to let him yell and scream. Maybe he NEEDS to be shaken a little, by someone he TRUSTS. Someone who’s not an authority figure.
    You let him stay right where he was. In a rut.
    THAT’S what you did wrong.
    12:58 A.M.
    But he’s shaky. Unstable. If you yelled at him TOO much, maybe you would push him over the edge.

1:14
    What’s the difference?
    Either way, you messed up.
    You always mess up. You always choose the wrong thing to do.
    THAT’S what they’ll call the movie of your life:
    DO THE WRONG THING.
    Something A.M.
    WHY CAN’T I SLEEP?
    You know why you can’t sleep.
    You’re an idiot.
    You think you can handle this on your own.
    You can’t.
    TALK to someone. Mom and Dad.
    No. They wouldn’t be any help.
    Or Ted.
    Uh, right.
    Sunny? She has enough problems.
    Maggie’s busy all the time.
    Jay? Ha-ha.
    Maybe Dawn or Amalia. But they hardly KNOW Alex. They don’t need to hear all this.
    Guess what?
    You’re all alone on this one, Ducky boy.
    No one to talk to.
    Just like Alex.
    No, not really.
    Alex has YOU.
    But you don’t have Alex.
    Greetings
    from the State of
    Disbelief
    You can barely open your eyes. The sun is killing you.
    But you have to wash up, eat breakfast, and get dressed.
    Your family outing is about to begin.
    To Disneyland.
    They have GOT to be kidding.
    In the Car
    Don’t know how long you’ll be able to write. Dad’s driving and you forgot to bring Dramamine.
    When you were TWO, you loved Disneyland. SIX. Even TEN. You must have gone there
    about 7.000 times before you hit your teens.
    It’s not that you HATE the place. You don’t.
    But it’s OLD now.
    YOU’RE old.
    You tried to give them a hint. Subtle little facial clues. Body language. Finally you just said,
    “Mom, we’re not kids anymore.”
    “Of course not,” Mom said pleasantly. “We wouldn’t leave KIDS home alone while we were in Ghana.”
    Ted called you an old fart. He LOVES the idea.
    Dad said, “Come on, Ducky. For old times’ sake.”
    Then you knew. It’s some kind of retro ironic nostalgia thing.
    You can understand that. Sort of.
    OK, attitude adjustment, McCrae.
    You can do it.
    Yippee.
    Main Street,