“Brandon!” his mom yelled up the stairs, “Brandon! It’s Thursday! That means school!”

“Coming!” he yelled back down, hopping around on one foot, trying to get his shoe on. He threw the door open with his jacket half-way on, finally getting his foot in the shoe. He sat at the top of the stairs and laced up his shoes, put his arm in the other sleeve of his jacket and shrugged the backpack on. Then he shuffled down the stairs until he reached the last step. His mom stood a few steps away, looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and concern.

Brandon smiled like had everything together, took a step forward and ran straight into the wall. “Oww. Wow. Oww.” he said, putting his hand to his forehead.

“It sounds like you hit a stud,” said his mom.

His eyes scrunched up in pain, he replied, “Thanks, mom.”

She took him by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length, insisting that he look at her. “It’s just a bruise, mom.”

He blew his hair out of his eyes and looked at her, feeling embarrassed. “I’m ok. No concussion. Really.”

She looked him over carefully. “You haven’t been up early a single day this week!”

“I know, mom.” Brandon wished he was anywhere else.

“You’ve been distracted, too. Is there something I should know about?”

“No, mom.”

“Someone I should know about?”

“No, mom!” he said, more forcefully than he would have liked. Brandon fought down the blush that rose to his cheeks. “I’m gonna be late.”

She let him go and called out a “bye” as the door slammed shut. She thought for a moment and then picked up the phone.