I watch my brother Tyler as he plays his videogames. Something about the Mario brothers, I'm sure. I'm sitting at the computer, trying to finish the last of my Spanish homework. Tyler jumps up and down and dances, as if he's one of the characters.
"Stop being a weirdo." I tell the eleven-year old.
"Are you calling me stupid?"
I should probably explain. Tyler has Asperger's Syndrome, ADHD, and to top it all off, an auditory processing deficit. That means he doesn't get along with groups, can't concentrate, and every time I say something, he hears something different.
"No, Tyler, I'm not. I just-" It's too late. Tyler's already calling Mom to come yell at me. I can tell it's Mom coming down to the basement, because of her slow steady steps. If it had been Tyler just coming back down, they'd be loud, and sound like a drummer who's off-beat.
"Ashley, what have I told you about calling Tyler stupid?"
"I never-" There was no point. Mom would just take Tyler's side, as usual. And I'd just have to go along with it.