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hold of his hand, and shot Tracy a wary smile. “Demanding little guy, huh?”
    At least he tells you what he wants,
Tracy thought. She kept her tone cheerful. “That’s the age, I guess.”
    “For sure.” They started for the front door, the little boy skipping at the woman’s side. She waved at Tracy. “Have a great day.”
    “You too.” Tracy wanted to ask the woman if her son was up to date on his immunizations.
Don’t get them all at once,
she wanted to tell her.
They still use mercury in them.
But this wasn’t the time or place and no one knew for sure about the mercury, anyway.
    As she watched them go, Tracy wondered about the woman. She probably lived here in Roswell or in Dunwoody, even. Maybe Johns Creek. One of the suburbs of Atlanta. Somewhere with a big house and a manicured yard and a normal life. The life Tracy had planned to have back when Holden was three.
    That was fifteen years ago.
    Now Holden didn’t laugh with her or talk to her or reach for her hand. She couldn’t play with him or chat through a meal with him, and she didn’t know what it felt like to be wrapped in his grown-up arms for a hug. She had no idea how or what he was feeling. Her only son never ran to her—his face lit up—and shared something about his day or his homework or his dreams for the future. Holden never sang, never played sports, never brought a friend home from school.
    He never made eye contact.
    Holden was autistic.

One
    I F THE FIRST DAY WAS ANY INDICATION, THIS YEAR WAS GOING to be the best ever.
    Quarterback Jake Collins worked his way through the crowded hallway of Fulton High School’s math building until he reached the meeting spot near the stairs. A group of his buddies from the football team were already there. At the same time, a couple of blonde freshmen girls walked past and giggled, flashing flirty eyes in his direction. Jake raised his brow and winked at his buddies.
    Outside the brick building, the sun shone across Johns Creek, streaming through the windows and warming the cold hallways, making the river of kids squint as they passed by.
    “The gang’s all here!” Jake thrust his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and swapped a laugh with the guys gathered around him. He looked back at the blonde girls now halfway down the hall. “Hotties everywhere.”
    “Gotta love the Fulton girls.” Sam Sanders elbowed him in the ribs. Sam had been Jake’s go-to guy for the past three years, one of the top receivers in the Atlanta area and Jake’s best friend.
    “Dude, they’re gonna love
us
this year.” He fist-pounded Sam. “State titles, baby. All the way. Everything we touch is gonna be gold.”
    “Triple threat. No class has ever done it!” Sam nodded big. “Football … basketball … track!” He strutted in a small circle, arms raised.
    Jake laughed. “Girls fallin at our feet.” He high-fived Sam,and the two of them chuckled, eyeing another pair of girls. “Even more than usual.”
    “Mmm-hmm.” Sam nodded at a pretty brunette, one of the two passing by. “Best Georgia peaches in the state.”
    They had six minutes to get to class, but that didn’t mean anything to Jake and his boys. If the group of them made a blockade in the hallway, so what? The other kids would walk around them. Jake didn’t care. This was their school. They could block the hallway if they wanted to.
    “Look!” Rudy Brown, another football player, laughed and pointed to an overweight kid in a wheelchair a dozen yards down the hallway. Two teachers worked to maneuver him through a classroom door. “What? He’s too fat to walk?” Rudy raised his voice louder than the noise around them. Rudy was six-five, three hundred pounds. Strongest offensive lineman in the county. He was being recruited by a dozen Division I college programs.
    “Hey!” Jake scowled at his teammate. “Not the wheelchair kids. They can’t help it.”
    “Yeah.” Sam kicked the big guy’s shin. “Have a heart.”
    Commotion