A/N: This is not what actually happens when you have these disorders. I don't really know, so I winged it. Enjoy!

P.S. Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) is the same as Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

My brother and I decided not to tell mom. She had enough worries already. Especially with her being so tired after every show that she automatically takes a nap when she gets back. I mean, who wouldn't be with you trying to console every fan of hers. She told us that some of her fans are very delicate, that she has to stay away so they don't faint in her presence. I led her on to think I actually believed her.

So the GC has given us these private classes. Our principle has paid so that everybody with a diagnosed disorder can be taught specific classes alone. But since I didn't want to be taught all by myself, we are taught together. Cody blamed me, but who would want to be stuck in private sessions by themselves?

My pencil has a weird feeling on my fingers. I guess when you bring it to science class, and you don't need it, you find some use for it. Such as: putting it in unknown liquids to test out the formula. Needless to say, it deteriorated. What else could I bring to the science lab?

So there are these private sessions. Did I say that already? We have one session a day, or more if it is severe. Cody needs to have a different one then me, but we are kept together since it is easier.

I entered the unfamiliar room beside my brother. It looked kinda like that dyslexia room, but it was smaller. Like our janitors' closet! Our janitor puts all this crazy stuff – stay on topic, stay on topic. Our teacher was a small lady. Sort of like how we pictured Mr. Moseby's mother. She was sort of intimidating though. Her glasses were attached to her neck on a chain necklace and she had the thickest brown hair I've seen. Funny how necklace sounds exactly like neck-less! Who would've thought?

She had beady eyes like that squirrel in the park! That squirrel was nasty…coincidence, I think not. The GC's theory is that, since we're family, we'll be able to help each other out by giving each other support. Well, if I don't support Cody, can I blame it on my ADD?

The first session was for Cody. They were supposed to expose him to his fears or whatever and reassure them it'll be okay. When you look at him, you don't immediately think he has OCD. He looks like a normal kid. But this session proved to me that the image I have of my twin, was completely wrong. When he washes his hands with sanitizer twice after somebody shook his hand, I thought he was doing it to get the attention on him, to be humorous. Then again, it kinda is funny watching him do it though. Aw, now I feel guilty. Stupid conscience.

"So… Cody," she began, pen in hand and a clipboard in the other. "Do you feel you have to do things a certain number of times, in a certain pattern?"

Cody huffed and rolled his eyes, "I've already answered this question, and it's a yes."

"Could you explain to me which certain things?"

I opened my mouth but Cody covered it with his very clean hand. I impulsively licked it, and he jerked back in alarm. I resisted the urge to belt out in laughter. He grabbed a tissue and started wiping his hand. "Uh… I don't know…"

Without him seeing, every time he wiped his hands on the tissue, I put up a digit. Wipe…one…wipe…two…wipe…three…wipe…four…wipe…five…w ipe…six. I wonder if you can portray six fingers with one hand all in a single motion. Hmm… I'll have to try that at home.

"Do I have to answer that question right now?" The psychologist almost smiled. "No need, young man." He sighed in relief. She started writing on her clipboard. I imagined her having the messiest writing possible… like a four year old. I had to stop myself from laughing by my hand to my mouth. She put on her glasses and gave me a glare.

"You have a name, nana?" I chuckled and Cody just gasped. I realised what I had just said and I gasped in return.

"Dr. Looney."

I snickered and thought about saying a couple of things I shouldn't. Instead, I whispered to Cody something else. "Should we really trust this Looney?" Cody didn't react like he should've; I mean c'mon, that was awesome. But he did crack a smile.

All I can say is: I got kicked out. But, I was making it interesting and not boring! Would you rather hear somebody questioning your sanity, or your brother making hilarious jokes about the Looney teacher?

The next class was better, but Cody offered me no support whatsoever. I guess I did deserve it, considering his last class… First they needed to put me through a couple of stimulations so they could figure out my response pattern. They gave me a math sheet.

A math sheet… really? I got halfway through the quiz and then I started to get bored. Who wouldn't? Question 9 was: "create the multiplication table." How are you supposed to remember… how many numbers are in there? I started creating a square, and then I thought the line looked like the table in our kitchen. A multiplication table! How could I be so stupid?

I started drawing an actual table and a cutting board on top. The next thing I know, I'm drawing math-symbol-shaped apples. They looked very well drawn if I do say so myself. Who needs math? Art is much more educational, I think. I doodled all over the paper. A chubby poodle, a flying race-car, a lunch box with a monkey on it, Cody swinging on vines in the jungle… Anything I could think of.

"Time's up!" I looked at the page and started to panic. Was I being graded on this? Oh, no! What if they show it to mom! Then I'll be in real trouble. Oh wait, I have ADD. Oh wait, I didn't tell her.