I don't think I'll ever forget the day Jackson told us he was moving out.

It definitely caught me by surprise. I don't think anyone was prepared for it. But one day that summer, he had news for us. Big news.

"So… I have something I want to say," he began,

"Go on," said Dad. To be honest, I thought he was going to show off some absolutely revolting, like a boulder-sized booger.

"Well…" Jackson stopped. I could tell he was nervous. "There's this girl. Her name is Juanita Rodriquez. And…" He paused again, looking even more nervous. He held this pause for about fifteen uncomfortable seconds. Then he blurted, "I'm getting married."

Dad and I screamed "WHAT?" in synchrony. We held blank expressions, also in synchrony. Finally, Dad motioned for him to continue.

"So… yeah, I'm also moving out."

The blank expressions returned.

" Really! I'm going to live with her"

Dad stunned me – and probably Jackson, too – by saying something nice. I would have thought he'd be angry for cracking this egg on our heads without warning. The words out of his mouth were "Ooh, how romantic. I might be interested in coming over one of these days. Where is this place?"

That's when Jackson dropped the biggest bombshell of them all: "Puntas Arenas."

"Puntas Arenas?" My voice came out as though I was in shock. Which I was. "Isn't that in… Chile?"

"Yeah."

"So you're moving… to Chile?"

"Yeah."

For a moment I was too stunned to speak. So was Dad. Then I uncontrollably jumped. "Yippee! Yahoo! Hurray! Hurrah! Jack-son's moving to Chi-le! Jack-son's moving to Chi-le!"

"Calm down…" warned Dad.

"I can't! Jack-son's moving to Chi-le! Jack-son's moving to Chi-le!" I grabbed my cell phone and dialed up Oliver. When he answered, I called out in a scream, "Jackson's moving to Chile!"

"No way. That's insane."

"Insane, but true. He's getting married. And he's gonna move to Puntas Arenas to live with her."

"That's unbelievable. I'm gonna call Lilly." Oliver hung up.

I know, I know. It's totally wrong to behave that way. But I was very glad to have that idiotic slimeball out of my life – hopefully forever.

I had no way of knowing my own life was going to take a similarly drastic turn just a few hours later.

"Only ninety minutes left before Jackson's plane arrives," I told Lilly and Oliver on the beach. "And then, FREEDOM!"

"Freedom is right," said Lilly. "I remember what his closet smelled like from the Vitolo incident. It's finally gonna get cleaned out now."

Oliver spoke up. "Didn't you like him? As in, like like him?"

"That was a dream I had," I reminded. "Remember?"

"Miles?"

"That's Daddy," I said. "Gotta go."

I rushed over to where he was. When I saw him, I asked, "What is it?"

"Remember going to the psychiatrist?"

"How could I forget?" It's true that Dr. Abratkiewicz was a bit of a nutcase. I think he was testing me to see if a bump on the head had mussed up my brain. Whatever he was doing, he didn't seem to be doing a good job of it.

Then Dad said something unexpected. "Listen. I got something in the mail from Dr. Abratkiewicz today. I'm sorry to say this, but… you've been diagnosed with Cashlin's syndrome."

"Uh… what's Cashlin's syndrome?

"I have no idea."

Seeing as how no one seemed to know what Cashlin's syndrome was – not even Dr. Abratkiewicz's letter helped – I figured the Internet was the best way to go.

As it turns out, Cashlin's is a form of multiple personality disorder. I could understand that. It makes sense, somewhat, for me to have that. I also discovered that it's believed everyone is affected by it, but there are only a few people it actually controls. Makes sense in my case, definitely. I'm controlled, and everyone else is affected.

Then I learned a few things I didn't want to know. It took years to subdue it, and the only place where the required treatment to subdue it was in Indianapolis. And knowing Dad, he would almost certainly want to subdue it.

Great. Now I was going to have to move too.