Chapter 2: The ADHD Grand Prix (or, My Brain's a Racecar Driven by a Squirrel
226 Words
Next on the chaotic agenda was the ADHD Grand Prix, where Alex's brain was a Formula One car driven by a caffeinated squirrel with a severe case of wanderlust. It was a non-stop, high-speed chase after… well, after whatever shiny object caught its attention.
In class, it was like trying to listen to a symphony while a marching band practiced in your ear. Mrs. Smith was droning on about fractions, but Alex's brain was already on Mars, designing a rocket-powered skateboard that ran on pure imagination and a sprinkle of fairy dust.
"Alex, are you with us?" Mrs. Smith asked, her voice dripping with the kind of patience only a saint or a kindergarten teacher possessed.
Alex blinked, snapping back to Earth. "Uh, fractions? Are we dividing pizzas or something?"
His homework was a legendary tale of lost causes. It was buried in the Bermuda Triangle of his backpack, along with his left shoe, a fossilized cheese sandwich, and a drawing of a unicorn riding a narwhal.
And then there was his mouth, a runaway train with a tendency to derail at the most inconvenient moments. "Hey, Mrs. Smith," he blurted out one day, "did you know your hair looks like a startled poodle that just saw a ghost?"
Mrs. Smith's eyebrows did a synchronized dance of disbelief. Alex turned the color of a ripe tomato.
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