I thought that was the end. But it isn't. I know that this is something I should record and I should have with me always.
Two months after I sent my last letter to Dad, he came to visit me. I assumed it was Toby, or maybe even Nadine because she came to see me and apologize a lot. I sat awkwardly as my Dad sat at the other end of the table. "I'm taking you to a doctor." He said matter-of-factly. My jaw dropped. The Doctor took down what seemed to be a lifetime of information. He sent us out to the waiting room. After a half an hour of silence, he summoned us back into his office.
"You seem to have very severe ADHD; I'm surprised no one caught on sooner." The Doctor said as soon as we came in. My Dad cleared his throat. I smiled widely and threw my arms around the Doctor's neck. "Thank you." I squealed. He smiled back and pulled out a bottle of pills. "This is Methylphenidate. It will help with your hyperactivity and your problems with focusing." He said, handing me the pills. "Take one every day." I didn't want to wipe the smile off of my face.
I looked up at my Dad, and he looked embarrassed. I think he thought a trip to the Doctor's office would finally prove him right. We hurried back to the detention centre, and I was released on account of my 'mental disability'.
It's been a week since I've been home, and the school that I apparently almost burned down is accepting me again. My Dad said that it seems like a bad place, and maybe I should homeschool. But that's only because he thinks I'll be treated worse now that I officially have mental problems. The truth is I still fit in there. The east wing is all tapped off, but I still have Norma and Nadine and everyone else don't mind me.
I do work in class now. I've noticed that I'm actually pretty good at Math when I can focus. Toby still promised to visit this spring break, but that's only a month away. I fight with my Dad a lot, and we are probably the most incompatible people ever. I know that he loves me somewhere in there though.
Evan calls all the time, and he always asks me if I'm coming back to England when I turn eighteen. At one time, I would've said yes with certainty. But the question is what's worth more, family with no friends, or no family and the best friends? When I think of home, I don't think of places. I think of Evan and I think of Toby and Nadine.
Maybe I'll go back and maybe I won't, but I still have two and a half years to decide. For now, I'm going to enjoy a peaceful mind.