0. Max

I always thought Max was just "weird." My best friend in kindergarten, Max, and I shared an affinity for Skittles and all things Power Rangers. My favorite Ranger was Kimberly, so when we would play at recess, naturally, I wanted to be Kimberly, the pink Ranger. But Max would insist I be Trini, the yellow Ranger. It was irritating, but I shrugged it off. My classmates always noted that Max was "weird," but that was the only word we knew for it. His flailing arms and head tics were funny but strange, to us conscious, yet inexperienced 5-year-olds.

The summer after kindergarten, Max and I went swimming at the Y. He insisted he could swim in the deep end, so he swam out to the middle of the pool, struggling to keep his head above the water. He would flail and yell and his mom would rescue him. Then he would go back and do it again. And again. And each time, he would have to excuse himself to the bathroom because he'd swallowed so much pool water. That was really the moment when Max went from being just "weird" to "different." I still don't know exactly what was going on in Max's head, but when his mom transferred him to the "special" school the following autumn, I realized that not all people were like me.