Untitled by Brian

[Anna]

Note: anna started to write a story like this a while ago but she wasn't doing it right, so now im going to write it and shes just going to help with some things. it was originally mostly her idea though. also everything i post on this website is in blue, but this wont be just because its a lot of writing and i think it might be a little hard to read when its blue, ill just sign my name at the bottom in case anna posts something too.
Disclaimer: part of the beginning anna wrote when she was doing this story, i thought it was good so i kept it, and the adjectives in the very first line are from you guys, its the list she asked you to make a while ago. also part of the first part i sort of took from this list of 10 things www.southflorida.com/sfparenting/sfe-sfp-autism,0,6196233.story
ive referred to things from this list a lot of times before over the years but i guess now that its written down i should give whoever wrote it originally credit


Pulchritudinous. Adept. Intimidating. Witty. Temerarious. Fun. Flirty. Chivalrous. Charming. These have all been used to describe me. I’ve heard them all. Most of them are probably true, and it’s evident when I am around my friends, family, and fans, and when I’m on stage or doing interviews for magazines or radio shows. But there’s more to it than that. There’s a whole other side of me that the camera has never seen. My name is Joseph Adam Jonas. Some, like my family and close friends, know me as Joseph. More commonly I am known as Joe, and most of all, I am known as the middle brother and lead singer of the Jonas Brothers. But by one person, and one person alone, I was always and will always be known as Joseph Adam Jonas. Nothing more, nothing less. It never will be. This is my story. This is my story of how I met and learned from an amazing kid. This is my story of how one person can change your entire outlook on life. This is my story of how I spent many nights crying myself to sleep. This is my story of how I spent many days crying with joy. This is my story of a friend. This is my story of Christopher Paul Davidson. Just like he knows me, he and the people in his world know him by his full name. Nothing more, nothing less. It never will be. I am one of his best friends, and I can honestly say he is also one of mine. I’ve known him since I was very young, and together we have played, learned, and grown up. For most other people, this is an average life story. But for Christopher Paul Davidson and I, it is far from it. I am eighteen years old. Christopher Paul Davidson is the same. We used to be on almost the exact same pace, but when we were very young I unintentionally left him behind. I grew up. To most, he seemed to stay the same. Christopher Paul Davidson is very much the same as most boys our age, he crushes on girls, he attends a local high school, he loves to hang out with his friends, and he gets aggravated with his parents. Typical teen, right? Not quite, along with these all too normal traits come some different ones. He may see a hot girl in the halls at school or at a party, yet he will very rarely go up to her, or anyone else for that matter, and say as much as ‘hi’. He goes to that regular old high school, he is in the same building, but he isn’t in all the same classes. He is required to see a specialist multiple times a day and get extra assistance from aids throughout the duration of school hours. He loves being with his friends, but doesn’t have as many as some guys and struggles when meeting new potential pals. Parents get on their adolescent kids’ nerves, that’s nothing new. But while you or I might talk back a bit when it happens, it is very likely that Christopher will throw an all out on-the-floor-kicking-and-screaming-tears-running-down-his-cheeks-people-staring tantrum. You might be able to tell, and maybe you’ve seen it before: when Christopher Paul Davidson was born, something went different. Not wrong, just different. No one can figure out why, no one can cure it. And as a result, my friend is now naturally the outcast in any group. He doesn’t understand how to interact with people, he often seems innocently naïve, and he has regular meltdowns caused by anything from a light being too bright or a sound too loud to he simply wants something but can’t figure out how to ask for it. Christopher Paul Davidson is autistic.

Weird. Messed up. Slow. Dumb. Annoying. Childish. Different. Stupid. Creepy. Retarded. These have all been used to describe me. I’ve heard them all. Very few of them are true, but it isn’t evident when I am around my peers, adults, children, or even my friends and family. True, one or two of these can theoretically describe me, but there's more to it than that. There's a whole other side of me that very few people have seen. My name is Christopher Paul Davidson. I have autism. I am not primarily “autistic”, just like any other human being with thoughts and feelings is not primarily overweight, geeky, popular, or athletic. This is my story. This is my story of how I met and learned from an amazing kid. This is my story of how one person can change your entire outlook on life. This is my story of how I spent many nights crying myself to sleep. This is my story of how I spent many days crying with joy. This is my story of a friend. This is my story of Joseph Adam Jonas. He is one of my best friends, and I am one of his. I’ve known him ever since I was very young, and together we have played, learned, and grown up. For most people, this is an average childhood story. For Joseph Adam Jonas and I, it is not. I am eighteen years old. Joseph Adam Jonas is the same. We used to be on almost the exact same pace, until he unintentionally left me and all our other peers behind. We stayed the same, he grew up. For the most part, he is still just a regular teenage boy, he crushes on girls, he takes high school courses, he loves to hang out with his friends, and he fights with his siblings. Typical teen, right? Not quite, along with these all too normal traits come some different ones. Although he has no problem at all with getting girls to notice him, most do for all the wrong reasons. He takes the same classes, but he isn’t in the same building; unlike a lot of people I know, he is homeschooled. He absolutely loves it when he gets to hang out with his friends, but that very rarely happens, and he has issues where he doesn’t always have friends who like him for who he is. Most kids do fight with their siblings, and Joseph Adam Jonas is no exception. However, while most family rivalries aren’t a huge deal, his arguments with his brothers have to be settled immediately because he has to work closely with them, and though that usually isn’t a problem, he has to deal with it on a daily basis, even if it means having no personal space or time and having pesky little brothers bothering him. Joseph Adam Jonas is a musician, a teenage superstar.

-brian

[hayleyheartsyou]

Brian.!.
This is very good. I can't wait for you to update it.
I read the article and I guess I never realized how much autism can affect a person.
I'm guessing that Christopher is you? If he is, it's going to be a great story because we get to hear how autism can affect a person.

Hayley Ranea.

[Anna]

"anna started to write a story like this a while ago but she wasn't doing it right"


good job brian.
and i highly suggest to people who dont know a lot about the subject or are just curious to click that link he gave and read the 10 things, it isnt that long and in my opinion it really is an eye-opener.

[Anna]

anna also wrote the first flashback(the summer 1993 one) and about half of the second one(september 1993)
and hayely it isnt necessarily me, just a character i made up. in some ways were the same but in others were different. for example, christopher communicates by talking a lot more than i do, but youll start to see a lot of what he says is taken from movies or other things hes seen or heard. it was mentioned in the article you read, i dont do that though. and also as youll start to see, christophers thing is math(a lot of autistic people have one subject that theyre extremely interested in, and thats about all theyre interested in, it could be anything, a school subject, dinosaurs, cars, computers, and so on) and for me its more words than numbers, and computers(its an odd combination i guess, youd think computers would go with math or science) another thing you might notice that i wanted to point out is the baseball cap. its a comfort thing, christopher will always have it with him no matter what, again, it could be anything, i know a kid whos obsessed with a hair tie, always has it with her. i like having a specific clickable sharpie nearby we dont know why, these things just calm us down somehow. thats all i wanted you guys to know about for now i guess, if you have any other questions you can PM them to me and ill answer as soon as i can.

2006
Home. It’s where the ones you love are, it’s the place you feel most safe and comfortable. It’s where your heart is. And right at this very moment, I’m staring right at it. Leaning against my parents’ car parked in the street directly in front of our house, I sigh, a slight smile on my face. I look at the average sized New Jersey home, with its large front lawn dotted with tall trees, their leaves tinted with a late spring green. A few outdoor toys are scattered throughout the grass, such as a couple beat up wiffel balls and the plastic yellow bat to go along with it, a tricycle with its handlebars sticky from melted and dried popsicle, and a nerf football. The familiar playthings made me smile even more, thinking of all the memories I had playing with them throughout the years. They always seemed to be right there on the lawn waiting for my brothers and I and our friends, no matter how many times our mother begged us to put them away. A little further behind is the front porch, wind chimes clinking softly in the cool breeze above the old porch swing, in need of a paint job from being used so much. The smell of homemade spaghetti sauce drifts through the screen door, the warm and welcoming aroma attributable to the dinner my mother is preparing inside. Through a window I see my older brother perched on a table, appearing to be listening intently to our younger brother, who was using vivid hand motions as he rambled. Just in front of them, playing with a remote control car-the one with the mysteriously missing remote control-on the floor was our youngest brother. I hear a door close and jerk my head to the left, receiving a wave and a smile from my father, just leaving work in the chapel right next door. The old building was like a second home to me, I had grown up going there every Sunday morning for mass and every summer for day camp, occasionally also going in after school to help my dad out.
“Smells like dinners ready.” He smiles, sniffing the air as he approaches me. I nod and straighten up, no longer relying on the car for support. “What are you doing out here anyways?” Dad wonders, looking at me questioningly. I shrug, observing again the building now coming closer as we walk up the pathway. This had been my house for twelve years; I had grown up in this very neighborhood.
“Just thinking about how good it is to be home.” I explain and my dad smiles.
“Long day at school?” I nod, confirming his assumption. “Hang in there, only one more day and you’re done for good.” He assures, clapping a hand on my shoulder. Just before going inside, I glance at the house next door and through the window see a boy, a boy who had become one of my best friends over the years, sitting on the couch and watching what I recognized immediately as his favorite movie on TV. I smile at the sight, realizing that he was another aspect of what made this place my home, and I couldn’t help but remembering how it came to be that way.

July 1993
Joseph squirmed as his mother struggled to rub in the sunscreen onto his tanned, chubby cheeks.
“Hold still! You can’t go out until we’re finished.” Denise told him for what seemed to be at least the fifth time.
“I wanna play!” He whined, giving up after one last attempt to pull away. He pouted, crossing his arms across his chest and taking a heavy breath. His mother finished applying the lotion and smiled, taking an extra dab on her finger and smearing it off into a big, white dot on the tip of her son’s nose. He giggled and wiped it off, running across the room to the small, colorful swing in the corner where his baby brother sat, happily gnawing the ear of a Mickey Mouse plush toy. Joseph bent down, gently rubbing the sunscreen onto the back of his brother’s hand.
“He’s all ready to go Mommy!” He exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear, proud of what he had done.
“Thank you sweetie, I’ll take care of Nicholas from here. You go play.” His mother smiled, kissing the top of Joseph’s head before he ran off towards the back door.
“I’m ready!” He yelled as he ran through the grass to join his older brother, Kevin.
“Ok. We’re gonna play a new game today.” Kevin said, looking down at the younger boy. He loved that he was able to take charge and teach his brother new things.
“Yes!” Joseph hopped up and down excitedly. Kevin was going into first grade and had learned so many fun games in kindergarten. Joseph was always glad to play a new one.
“It’s called ‘Hopscotch’.” Kevin announced, his brother listening with wide eyes. “You get chalk and draw the hopscotch like this.” He brought his box of chalk over to the sidewalk and demonstrated how to set up the game. When he finished, he stood and dusted his hands off, nodding, satisfied with what he had drawn.
“Then you jump in all the squares like this.” Kevin hopped through all the boxes and turned back around, going through back to the beginning.
“Let me try!” Joseph said once he finished, getting ready to jump.
“Numbers.” The brothers looked around, startled by the unfamiliar whisper. Kevin pointed to the fence, where they saw a big brown eye peeking through one of the cracks between the boards.
“That’s our neighbor.” Kevin whispered. Joseph nodded as they both stared right back at the eye in the fence. They had only recently moved to their current home, coming from Dallas, Texas less than a week before. They hadn’t met many people, and only knew that there was a young boy living next to them.
“Hi.” Kevin said when the other boy failed to move from his place on the other side of the fence. Suddenly the eye disappeared and a full body appeared further down the fence, where the wood stopped and the chain-link gates started. He was short and had brown hair to match his wide eyes. He carried a baseball cap in his hands and was squeezing it tightly. As soon as Joseph and Kevin moved to stand in front of him, the boy’s eyes quickly darted across the two boys and directly to Joseph’s left hand.
“My name is Christopher Paul Davidson.” He said, quietly but clearly and extremely slowly.
“My name is Joseph Adam Jonas.” Joseph replied, imitating Christopher’s use of his full name.
“Numbers.” Christopher said again, still speaking in the same quiet, slow monotonous voice.
“What?” Kevin asked.
“Numbers!” Christopher shouted, his eyes-although still not focused on anything but Joseph’s hand- becoming even wider than before and his face flushed with anger. At the sound of the scream, a woman came rushing out of the house next door and at the sight of the boy by the fence, sighed and ran up to them.
“Christopher Paul Davidson, what’s wrong?” She asked, bending down and holding the child’s arms.
“Numbers!” He hollered again, dropping to the ground and kicking wildly, struggling to free his arms from his mother’s grasp. The two Jonas boys looked at each other in confusion. Kevin took a couple steps back, instinctively pulling his younger brother along. They didn't understand what the boy was talking about or why he was getting so upset.
“Relax. Shh. Full sentences.” The woman insisted, standing him up again. Christopher thrust the baseball cap onto his head and began breathing at a slow, steady pace.
“Shh. Shh. Relax.” He chanted quietly to himself, repeating the words until his face returned to a natural color.
“Good boy. Good boy. What happened? Use sentences please.” The woman said patiently.
“Jumping numbers.” Christopher said, using the same slow tone as before and throwing his arm out to point to Kevin’s game of hopscotch.
“See? Now we can make it better. All you have to do is use sentences.” The woman straightened, taking her son by his hand.
“Could we please come help you put numbers on your hopscotch?” She asked. Kevin nodded hesitantly and the woman and her son opened the gate and crossed into their yard. She led Christopher to the chalk and handed him an orange piece.
“Christopher Paul Davidson, behave.” She demanded. “I’m so sorry boys. Is your mother home? I’d like to talk to her.”
“Yea, follow me!” Kevin said and ran toward the house. The woman looked to make sure her son was still busy occupying himself with writing numbers carefully in the boxes, then followed. Joseph crouched down next to Christopher, observing his work.
“You’re good at numbers.” He commented about the large, perfect figures. The boy didn't look up, fully concentrated on his work. When he was done he stood, not bothering to brush the dust off of his hands or knees.
“Numbers.” He nodded surely. He took his hat off with one hand, grabbed Joseph’s hand with his other, and started walking to the Jonas’ house to find his mother.
“My name is Christopher Paul Davidson.” He said as he dragged Joseph along through the grass.
“My name is Joseph Adam Jonas.” Joseph repeated, uncertain of why he had to say it again. Christopher Paul Davidson stopped walking abruptly and placed his hat back on his head, using his newly freed hand to grab Joseph’s.
“Joseph Adam Jonas!” He exclaimed excitedly, swinging Joseph’s hands in rhythm with the syllables of his name. Joseph laughed, not quite sure what was going on.
“Christopher Paul Davidson.” He replied, swinging their hands just as the other boy had done. And from that day on, the two were inseparable.

2006
“Time to get up!” I don’t move. “Christopher Paul Davidson, please get up and get ready for school.” I feet a sudden chill as the heavy blankets are pulled back and I open my eyes. My mother is hovering above me, her expression covered in impatience. “Now please, I’ve been through this enough times this morning.” She refuses to move until I sit up and pull myself out of bed. “Get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast.” I wait as she leaves my room, closing the door behind her. I turn around to face my dresser, seeing one of my usual outfits folded into a neat pile on top. Jeans, a t-shirt, and my baseball cap. I put on the familiar clothes and follow my mother’s instructions, going down to the kitchen where I find an empty bowl, a carton of milk, a box of cereal, a napkin, and a spoon sitting at my place at the table. I sit down and stare at it for a few moments. If I’m anything, I’m not a morning person. Call it lazy, but I didn’t want to do even this much this early.
“You do it.” I mumble, pushing the bowl away. I watch my mom’s hand move to the bowl and push it back.
“Pour the cereal and milk. You know how to do it, I know you do.” She insists. I know I do too; I’m seventeen, not seven. I seize the milk and open it, pouring it into the blue bowl first, the order I had learned years ago and never changed. “Watch what you’re doing!” My mom exclaims and grabs my wrist. I glare at her hand on my arm, then at the milk in my bowl that had been coming close to overflowing. I slam the carton down and push my chair back away from the table.
“You do it!” I say louder than I should have and hit my mother’s hand, effectively making her release my wrist. No, I am not some baby who gets mad over every little thing. I don’t know what caused me to react the way I did, honestly this doesn’t happen a lot anymore. Today just wasn’t a good day. I dare to look up at her face. She stands staring at me, her mouth in a straight, tight line. She breaks the cold glare and looks in the breadbox sitting on the counter behind her, finally finding what she was looking for. She fishes out a strawberry breakfast bar and thrusts it at me.
“You’ll be late for school.” She says quietly, putting the snack on the table when I don’t take it from her. She silently takes the milk carton and closes it, putting it back into the fridge. When she comes back to gather up the cereal and my bowl to put away, she pauses to look at me. “Well? Get ready! All your stuff is by the front door, Joseph will be here any minute.” She says.
“Joseph Adam Jonas.” I mumble.
“Right, Joseph Adam Jonas, my mistake.” My mother doesn’t always remember the strange little habits I have when she’s mad. Such as using full, proper names. When I was younger, I was taught that my name was Christopher Paul Davidson. It just stuck in my mind that the right way to address people was their full name. I get up and swipe my breakfast off the table before heading upstairs to brush my hair and teeth. Just as my mom had said, the doorbell rang minutes later. I hear a familiar voice drift up the stairs as my friend talks to my mother. I trudge down the stairs and pick up my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder.
“Ready?” Joseph asks. I turn and give my mom a hug, and she kisses me on the cheek. I then look down at my friend’s hand, which is carrying a notebook he must have forgotten to put in his bag. Taking the spiral and shoving it towards his other hand, I grab his now empty hand and pull him towards the door, fully aware I was squishing his fingers together tightly but not caring.
“Whoa there, slow down! We have plenty of time.” Joseph laughs, nearly tripping down the stairs as he turns to wave to my mother. We walk to the corner in silence before he speaks. “Your mom said you had a meltdown this morning?” He inquires. I keep walking. “All because you didn’t want to make your own cereal? What’s that all about?” I shake my head as we walk, but he persists. “Christopher Paul Davidson, look at me!” He stops walking, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around to face him. I dart my eyes to his shoes. “Look at me, Christopher Paul Davidson.” He repeats, continuing to chant the order until I do. “That isn’t like you, what’s going on? Is this because it’s the last day of school and I’m not coming back next year?” I don’t respond, instead breaking the eye contact and returning my gaze to his shoes. “Well?” I shake his hands off my shoulders and take a step back. He had been with me in school since kindergarten. But now he and his brothers had started a band, and they got signed to a record label and were going to start homeschooling. Joseph wouldn’t be back for senior year, meaning next August I’d be alone.
"Dave, this conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye." I quote quickly, turning away from my friend and beginning to walk faster.

September 1993
The first day of kindergarten. For some kids, it was an exciting day. For others, it could be a bit scary. And for some parents, the day could be a stressful one, which makes it stressful for their child, too. But it helps when you have a friend.
“Hello, you must be Christopher!” Five year old Christopher took a small step away from the smiling lady who had bent down to come to his level.
“My name is Christopher Paul Davidson.” He said cautiously.
“My name is Mrs. Kennedy. Welcome to kindergarten!” The woman put her hand out. Christopher stared at it until his teacher’s smile faded, just a bit, and she put it back down. “Why don’t you come and play with the other kids?” Christopher quickly shook his head, removing his baseball cap and clutching it tightly in his hands. Mrs. Kennedy looked at Mrs. Davidson, confused.
“He will in a little bit.” She assured, taking her son’s hand in hers. “Come on honey, first we’ll talk to your teacher, then we’ll play with the kids.” She said, leading him over to a small round table. Christopher sat in the child sized blue plastic chair and waited while his mother and teacher began talking. He didn’t pay any attention, just watched as the children around him ran and played. Suddenly he saw a familiar figure appear in the doorway.
“Joseph Adam Jonas.” He said to no one in particular as he watched the small boy eagerly run into the room.
“Hi Mrs. Davidson!” Joseph shouted as he ran towards his neighbor. Mrs. Davidson looked down and gave a half hearted smile.
“Hello Joseph.” She said, patting him on the back. Turning back to the teacher, she continued her discussion. “Mrs. Kennedy, I refuse to have my son not properly educated. There is no other kindergarten class in this school; you really don’t have a choice.”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but we have little experience with children like your son. There is no way he can be in my class. I can assist you in finding a specialist to tutor him privately if you like.” Mrs. Davidson stomped her foot and threw her hands down in exasperation.
“No!” She wailed. “He’s a good boy. He can talk enough to get by and understands everything you tell him. He’s a good listener, and excellent in math. He’s getting much better with his tantrums, really! He wouldn’t be much trouble!” She cried in desperation. Mrs. Kennedy sighed.
“I’ll have to speak to the principal about it.” She decided. Joseph stared at the two women in awe, not really sure of what was happening, but sure that it was important. For the first time, he noticed Christopher sitting quietly in his chair all alone and squeezing his baseball cap in his hands.
“This is pure discrimination, Mrs. Kennedy. I hope you realize that.” His mother argued.
“I said I would speak to the principal about it, Mrs. Davidson.” The teacher replied calmly.
“Well what am I supposed to do with him? I’m a single mother of an autistic boy. Until now we’ve been surviving on money from the government and the little I made from an at home job. Now he’s old enough for school, so I can get a real occupation. I have an interview in half an hour. I barely have enough time to get home, get ready, and leave. My life isn’t easy. This is my last hope, daycares won’t take him. This is the only school in the area.” Mrs. Davidson pleaded.
“He can stay for today. I can set up a meeting after school today to discuss what we’ll do with him after that.” Mrs. Davidson looked at her watch and sighed.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. Here’s everything you need to know.” She agreed, handing her a list. She knelt next to Joseph.
“Joseph honey, I have to get to work. Could you please take Christopher by the other kids to play?” She asked. He nodded and the woman sighed in relief. “Thank you, I’ll see you boys later.” She said, giving him a quick hug and rushing out.
“Hi Christopher Paul Davidson!” Joseph said, waving as he approached his friend. The boy’s eyes darted to him momentarily, then back to the floor straight in front of him. Joseph sat next to him, watching the other kids for a minute.
“Those kids over there are building a pretty cool castle with blocks, we should go by them.” He suggested. Christopher shook his head.
“Mom is mad.” He mumbled, fear evident in his eyes. Joseph ignored the comment and got up, grabbing his friend’s hand.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He insisted, walking towards the others and remembering what his parents had explained to him about ‘I don’t want to play’ more likely meaning ‘I don’t know how to ask them to play’.
“Hi.” He said once they arrived to the small circle of children sitting on the floor. They looked up and gave a chorus of ‘hi’s. “I’m Joseph Adam Jonas. This is Christopher Paul Davidson.”
“I’m Mark…Kyle Franka?” One boy said, looking at Joseph confusedly. He nodded, grinning and looking to the next kid.
“I’m Amanda Marie VanDuyne.” She said, getting the hang of the pattern.
“Kayla Ann Cervantes.”
“Hosè Liam Reese.” They went through the whole group, each child stating their full name.
“You guys wanna help up build the kingdom?” Mark asked.
“Yea!” Joseph exclaimed, dropping to the floor and grabbing a handful of blocks. He looked up at his friend and nodded subtly. Christopher sat next to him, and Joseph pushed some blocks toward him. He silently took them and began stacking them in a specific color pattern with a smile on his face.

-brian

[hayleyheartsyou]

Yay Joe!.
It's really good. Please update.
Like what the people at McDonald's say..."I'm Loving It."

[Anna]

thank you hayley.
im just going to say this one more time and itll count for every time i post: anna wrote certain parts of this and/or helped me write it. haha i was getting tired of having to type it every time.

2006
“One more time.” Kevin and Nick both order simultaneously. I groan.
“We’ve been doing this for nearly an hour.” I complain, dropping my tambourine onto the old couch pushed up against the garage wall.
“Sorry Joe, someone wasn’t paying attention and missed all his cues.” Nick shrugs.
“Yea and it wasn’t me.” Kevin adds as he adjusts his guitar strap. I sigh.
“Alright, so I’m a little out of it today. We can do this tomorrow.”
“We leave tomorrow!” Nick argues. He turns back to Kevin and nods. “From the top.” The two start playing the beginning of the song we had been practicing, “7:05”, and I reluctantly take the tambourine that was being handed to me by Mandy, another one of my friends since kindergarten or before, who had been watching us from her usual spot on the couch. I play along and sing the background vocals throughout the song, glad when it’s finally over.
“I’ll be next door, don’t call me for dinner, I’m not hungry.” I mumble as I walk out the second the song ends, thrusting the tambourine at Kevin on my way out. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the three other people in the room exchange confused glances.
“You can’t! We still have more to rehearse!” Nick hollers, running to catch up to me before I close the garage before me. I shake him off my arm, but he determinedly follows.
“Nicholas, go inside! You may have started this music thing, but that doesn’t make you in charge. I’m still older than you.” I snap. My little brother glares at me and opens his mouth to talk back, but was interrupted by the sound of the door closing behind us.
“And I’m older than you, Joseph.” Kevin. “Nick, go play Mandy’s song for her. She’d like that.” He says to get rid of our brother, using one hand to push him gently towards the garage. Nick shrugs.
“Alright.” He agrees, going back inside. Kevin sits down on the bricks lining the walkway in front of our house and ushers me to join him. I do, and we sit in silence for a few moments listening to the muffled sound of Nick’s guitar and his voice singing the lyrics to our most popular song.
“What’s up Joe?” Kevin asks, looking at me with familiar older brother concern.
“Long day at school.” I shrug.
“It was your last day, all you did was sit around and hang out, right?” I shrug again. “Joe, something’s wrong. What’s up?” I sigh, giving in. My older brother had always had that power, to be able to get answers out of me.
“We’re leaving tomorrow for the whole summer. And we’re not going back to school next year.” Kevin listens to every word I say, but I can see it in his face that he doesn’t have any idea where I’m going with my rant. “I’m worried about Chris.” I say conclusively. Kevin nods, understanding.
“He’ll be fine. You aren’t going to be around him forever, he has to be on his own sometime. Besides, it isn’t like he’s all that dependent on you. He has other friends.” I turn my head to look at my brother. Our eyes connect and somehow I know he’s thinking of the same thing as me.

September 2000
Just as he had done countless times before, Joseph climbed the steps to his neighbor’s house and rang the doorbell. Within seconds it was opened and he was greeted by a bulky backpack and the back of a baseball capped head .
“Goodbye, it’s time for school!” The voice behind the backpack said as it always did. Mrs. Davidson glanced up from her book to make sure Joseph was there, then waved. Christopher turned around to face his friend and nodded, stepping out of the house and closing the door behind him. “It’s time for school.” He said. Joseph nodded.
“6th grade, are you ready?” He asked. Christopher didn’t answer, instead told him again that it was time for school and pulled him by the hand down the stairs to join the other Jonas boys. As they started walking, they all waved to Mrs. Jonas as they passed where she was watching from her front door, one hand resting on her pregnant stomach.
“Goodbye, baby!” Christopher said, a smile on his face.
“The baby’s going to be born soon.” Kevin told him. Christopher looked at him for a minute, then nodded slowly.
“Yea.” He agreed before walking faster on the familiar route to school. In only a matter of minutes later, they arrived at the corner across the street from the elementary school. Christopher stood at the curb and watched patiently as cars passed, waiting for the crossing guard to come out into the middle of the street. Joseph and Kevin exchanged glances behind him and Kevin coughed uncomfortably.
“Christopher Paul Davidson?” Nicholas asked cautiously, bringing himself next to his neighbor.
“Nicholas Jerry Jonas.” He said, looking down at the small boy and patting his head before turning back to the street. Nicholas turned around to look at his older brothers and threw his hands up, mouthing the words ‘now what?’ Joseph sighed and approached his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder to get him to turn around.
“Christopher Paul Davidson? We’re going that way.” He said slowly, not knowing what kind of response he should expect. Christopher shook his head.
“It’s time for school!”
“I know, but only Nicholas is going to go this way. You see that bus?” He pointed behind them to where a line of yellow busses was parked. Christopher nodded. “Since we’re in 6th grade, we get to ride those busses to school, fun right?” Christopher didn’t answer. “Come on.” Joseph said, making his voice sound eager. “First we’ll ride the bus, and then we’ll go to school.” He pulled his friend away from the curb and using the ‘first, then’ technique he had learned was most effective long ago. Christopher willingly followed Joseph onto the bus and together they found a seat near the front while Kevin joined a couple of his classmates in the back. After the short ride, they arrived at the middle school and Joseph anxiously led his friend into the playground area. They sat by the fence as they waited for the bell to ring, staring at all the unfamiliar faces. Until now, he had been in the same class since he was five years old. Now Joseph faced hundreds of students from neighboring towns and schools.
“Let’s play basketball with them.” He suggested. After a few minutes of sitting, he was beginning to get antsy. Christopher shook his head quickly, taking his hat off and clutching it tightly. Joseph jumped up and pulled on his friend’s arm until he stood too. “It’ll be fun. Look, there’s Mark Kyle Franka from our class, don’t you want to play with him?” Christopher shook his head again. “I’ll come with you, let’s go!” Joseph decided, dragging the other boy along to the basketball courts. “Can we play?” He asked the boys when they arrived. Christopher continued shaking his head, squeezing his baseball cap so hard his knuckles turned white.
“It’s time for school!” He whispered urgently, fear in his eyes.
“This is our school, Christopher Paul Davidson.” Joseph explained. “Middle school. We don’t go to elementary school anymore.” Christopher’s eyes widened as he realized what he had meant, and he began to breathe heavily. “Christopher! Christopher Paul Davidson, it’s ok!” Joseph exclaimed, panicky. He heard a snicker from behind him
“What’s up with this kid?” He ignored the question, instead struggling to hold onto his friend’s arms as he tried to drop to the ground.
“It’s time for school!” Christopher shouted, repelling Joseph’s hold and falling to his knees. The other kids started laughing.
“Sheesh, I never saw a kid who wanted to get to school so badly.”
“Aww, don’t cry, baby!”
“Look at him, his face is getting all red.” Joseph stood and glared at the other boys.
“Shut up! He’s just not used to this place; he thought he’d be going back to our old school.” He explained. “He needs things to be the same, the way he’s used to.” The boy that looked like the oldest and who was carrying the basketball rolled his eyes.
“That’s pathetic. You’re a middle schooler now, kid. Get over it.” Joseph glared at the other kids.
“Mark!” He called, getting angry that the boy they had known since the first day of kindergarten decided suddenly he wouldn’t stand up for them anymore now that he had new friends. Mark stopped staring at his feet and shrugged.
“He’s autistic guys, he can’t help it.” The other kids laughed harder and the boy carrying the ball stepped forward.
“Get up, retard.” He demanded, throwing the basketball at Christopher. He ducked out of the way too late, getting hit right on the head.
“Hey!” Joseph yelled, stepping in front of the bully.
“What do you want?”
“Leave him alone!” The boy laughed.
“What are you going to do if I don’t?” He threatened, stepping closer to Joseph and peering down at him. Joseph gulped, realizing just how huge this kid was. He glanced around quickly, relieved to spot his brother sitting on the school steps talking to his friends.
“Kevin!” He yelled, jumping up and down and waving his hands in the air. The bully turned around and they all watched as Kevin looked up, and seeing only his little brother hopping around with flailing arms, continued talking to his friends, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were embarrassed by his sibling. Joseph stopped, his jaw dropping in shock. “He’s not coming!” He said in disbelief. The bully laughed.
“You don’t think I could have taken that geek if he did come?” He sneered. Suddenly Christopher was behind him and furiously stomped on his foot. “Ow, that really hurt. How could you.” The bully said monotonously. His friends smirked and he laughed along. “What are you trying to do?” Christopher didn’t answer. “What, doesn’t this kid talk?” He turned to Joseph and he shrugged.
“A little.” The bully laughed harder.
“This guy’s hilarious!” He hooted. The comment made Joseph remember something. He quickly grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him close.
“Remember that movie we saw on TV last week?” He whispered. Maybe his friend didn’t talk a lot on his own, but he had an excellent memory and would quote anything he heard. Christopher didn’t reply, so he kept going. “What did that guy say about being funny?” Christopher’s eyes lit up. He remembered the quote word for word, as Joseph knew he would. He didn’t see how it would help, but he knew what his friend was talking about. “First say that, and then run!” Joseph whispered, shoving his friend toward the bully. Christopher turned to look at Joseph, and returned the nod he received. He took a breath and stepped closer to the boy, staring at the pudgy hand threatening to clobber him any second nervously.
“What do you mean, I'm funny?...You mean the way I talk? What?...Funny how? I mean, what's funny about it?...But I'm funny how? I mean, funny like I'm a clown? I amuse you? I make you laugh? I'm here to fuckin' amuse you? What do you mean, funny? Funny how? How'm I funny??...How the fuck am I funny? What the fuck is so funny about me? Tell me? Tell me what's funny!” He said at a regular volume and perfectly clear, a shift from his usual low mumble. Joseph grabbed his arm and stifled a laugh.
“Run!” He shouted as he began moving, pulling his friend along behind him. They didn’t stop until they got to the door, which Joseph opened and closed behind them once they were inside. They paused to lean against it and catch their breaths, and Joseph burst out laughing. “That was awesome, Christopher Paul Davidson!” He exclaimed between fits of giggles. “Did you see his face? You really scared him!” Christopher smiled, even though he wasn’t sure what he had just done.
“Yea.” He agreed, giving a halfhearted laugh. If he knew one thing, he knew that his old friends were no longer his friends. He was at a new school, and the only person here who liked him was Joseph Adam Jonas.

[hayleyheartsyou]

Poor Chris.
Please update soon, it's really good still=]=]=]=].

[Anna]

I don't really like this part, it's kind of boring. And I didn't reread it so there might be mistakes. But here it is.

2006
“Eat your dinner please.” I hear my mother say softly. I continue picking at my food, not hungry. “Christopher Paul Davidson, eat your food before it gets cold!” My mom says again, louder this time. I slam the fork onto my plate and push my chair away from the table. I hear the clink of my mom’s fork also hitting her plate. “What’s wrong today?” She asks. I don’t reply. “This isn’t like you, what’s going on?” She asks, getting up. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she walks over to the door and picks up my backpack, still full of all my books and supplies from earlier that day, and carries it over to the table. She rummages through it for a few moments, and then takes out what I knew she would, a rectangular piece of cardboard with the alphabet printed clearly on it, the layout like a keyboard on a computer. She holds it in front of me until I take it from her. She watches closely as I carefully point to the letters I want. She says the words that I spell as I point to them.
“Where’s Joseph Adam Jonas? I don’t know, he did say he would be over today, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” I spell out.
“I’m sure he’s just busy, he’s probably very excited about this summer.” My mom says.
“He is.”
“And there’s lots of packing to be done.”
“I guess.”
“Don’t worry about it, you’ll get to say goodbye.”
“I don’t want to go to the community center this summer.” That takes forever to type, considering I have to go slow enough for my mother to keep up. Her voice becomes more serious with her next response.
“You aren’t staying home by yourself.” She insists. I start to spell out my side of the argument, but she isn’t paying attention. “If someday someone invites you to go somewhere else, that’s fine as long as I know who you’re with and where you’ll be, but all the rest of the times you’re going back to camp, understood?” I block out everything she says and her words blend together into a big mess of syllables, and I think she realized that, but that didn’t stop her from giving the lecture. When she finishes, I take a few deep breaths to keep from getting angry, then as calmly as I can, point to the piece of cardboard I was holding. My mother nods slowly and I begin to spell.
“I’m seventeen. I can manage a few hours a day by myself.”
“I’d rather not take the chance, you don’t know for sure what could happen, and with the Jonas’ not home…” She trails off.
“I can call you if anything happens.”
“What if you can’t, Christopher Paul Davidson? What if you’re hurt and can’t get to a phone? Or what if I don’t answer and you say the wrong thing and whoever does pick up doesn’t realize it’s you and hangs up thinking it’s just some prank call? And what if I can’t leave work?” She asks, her voice getting louder with every word.
“Nothing’s going to happen.”
“You don’t know that.” I feel my face getting red with anger and my breath gets heavier.
“I'm not bad; I'm just drawn that way!” I shout a quote I remembered from a movie I used to love when I was younger, one about a rabbit. I get up and storm upstairs. My mother of all people should understand that I don’t need to be put into a camp for the disabled, forced to hang around a bunch of little kids with various problems, play simple games like duck, duck, goose and go on “fun and educational field trips”. But no, being a mom, she has to get worried that I can’t handle a full day alone while she goes to work. There was no doubt in my mind that without any friends and being thrown into a camp, this summer was going to suck.


Impatiently, I knock on the closed door blocking me from entering the room. For the third time.
“It’s me! Open up!” I call and switch hands after my knuckles start to get sore. Finally I just push the door open, not caring what I walk in on. Christopher was just sitting at his computer, minding his own business. “Christopher Paul Davidson?” I ask hesitantly, wondering why he hadn’t let me in. He doesn’t respond so I walk up behind him. “We’re leaving, if you wanted to come say goodbye to everyone…” I say. I came by the night before, he wouldn’t talk. I had tried everything; all I got was a few random movie quotes, only one sticking in my mind. I had asked if he was sure he’d be alright while I was gone, and he replied with, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!” Gone With the Wind. A lot of the time when he quoted things with me, it was all gibberish; he didn’t make the effort to think about what he was saying, figured I knew him well enough to figure it out. Maybe he’d tell me, “One simple request. And that is to have sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads!” from an Austin Powers movie when we were talking about something completely unrelated, like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But last night, he made sure the statement fit what I was asking, and he made sure to say it as nastily as he possibly could. There was no doubt about it, I was leaving for a couple of months and he was mad at me for it. I watch as he closes all the open windows on the computer and stands up, waiting for me to take the lead and go outside.
“There they are!” My mom says cheerfully when we walk across the lawn to our driveway. She stepped forward and pulled my friend into a hug. “Have a good summer, Christopher Paul Davidson!” She tells him. “Maybe you’ll be able to come to one of the concerts.” We all know it’s not true, it would be too loud and hectic, but Christopher nods anyways. Then my dad approaches him, holding a hand out for him to shake. Christopher hugs him and my dad chuckles, patting him on the back as he tells him to take care of himself.
“Goodbye, Mr. Bond.” Christopher says, going up to my little brother. Nick beams.
“That’s from Goldfinger!” He exclaims. I see Kevin roll his eyes, our brother was getting into a James Bond phase and it didn’t seem like one he’d grow out of.
“Yea.” Christopher nods and returns the high five Nick had started before hugging him as well.
“See ya man, have a good summer.” Kevin smiles, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Hasta la vista, baby.” Christopher replies. Kevin laughs.
“Going from James Bond to Terminator in a few seconds? Big day.” He comments, picking up his guitar case and throwing it over his shoulder as he joins the others in the cab waiting to take us to the airport. I look at my friend, not sure what to expect. He’s silent for a minute.
“Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” He says quietly, slowly. I think about that for a moment; Christopher is right, I know him well enough to be able to figure out what his random statements mean. He was apologizing for the night before, saying that I should go out and perform with my brothers, do my best with this tour. I smile.
“Thank you, Christopher Paul Davidson. Have a fun summer, I’ll be home soon.” I say and hug him. I hear a honk from behind me and turn to see my dad waving me over from the front seat of the taxi. The diver didn’t look too thrilled. “I’ll be home soon.” I repeat and join the rest of my family, watching as we drive away and Christopher’s mother calls him inside.
“You guys ready for this?” Kevin asks. Nick nods enthusiastically, and I do the same. Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

[Anna]

Hi everybody. I'm starting summer school soon and then I start high school so I think I'm going to be really busy and not able to keep writing. Plus I don't like what I have written after this so far and everything I do doesn't make it any better.
But if you were just reading out of curiosity or to see how someone can be affected by this then if you have any questions or something you can send them to me in a personal message and either me or Anna can answer it depending on what the question is. And don't worry if you do have a question, I know some people who are offended or don't want to answer, but seriously I've been doing this my whole life, I'm used to it
-Brian