I expected him to say they weren't all his fault, to launch into the typical song-and-dance about faulty break lines and bad roads and cops who just didn't like they way he looked. But he just sighed.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, so how'd it happen?" I felt like I was trying to pry information out of Jason. Information that he didn't want to give me.

"I get distracted."

"I'll say. The road you're supposed to be on is away over there." I moved one hand off his head long enough to flap in the direction of the patrol car. "You won't be doing your brother much good if you never make it to California."

Aww, I shouldn't have said that. Now he looked like he was getting teary again. This brother must really be something to warrant this kind of adoration.

"Is it because you're thinking about work, you know, math?" I asked more gently, remembering how I'd more than once nearly burned the house down because I was thinking about work stuff while trying to cook dinner.

"No."

"No?"

He sounded really tired. If he'd sounded ten years old just a while ago, now he sounded about seventy. "I think about numbers, about math, constantly. Literally all the time. Every waking moment. And then, at night, I dream about numbers. There's not much I can't do while thinking about math."

"If it's not math, then, what is it?"

"People." He sighed again, "What else is there?"

"People?"

"Yeah. I think about people. My family, my students, people from work. Just, you know, people. And what they're thinking, and why they do the stuff they do. It's really…it's confusing. I get confused. And then I lose focus."

That was not the answer I was expecting. At all. But, then, if I had to solve math problems while I drove, I'd probably run off the road, too. So it seemed reasonable that Charles could understand math easily and people not at all.

"Any way you could, maybe, not think about people while you drive?"

"Can't help it."

"Can't help thinking about people?"

"Just think about…," he closed his eyes and there was a really long pause before he finished, "…what I think about."

"Well, if you can't help getting distracted, then maybe you just shouldn't drive?" I expected that to get a big response. What kid wants to give up his car?

"Yeah."

Gotta give me more than that, Charles. "I mean, is it really hard to get around in Los Angeles without a car?" Actually, I have since found out that it is, but when all this happened, my big city experiences were pretty much limited to the Big Apple, where only certified lunatics actually drive.

"Yeah."

"It is? I bet it's not that hard. Not for someone as smart as you are. I bet you could do it. You'd have to admit, it would be different."

"I'm different enough," he said, sounding really exhausted for the first time.

"You could bike, maybe."

"Mmmm…"

"And there are busses and stuff."

No response.

"Or walk." I waited.

"Or roller-skate." Nothing. "Charles? Hey, Charles? You need to answer me. This isn't funny," I said, even though Charles hadn't seemed to be the kind of person who would play games like that. My voice started getting all squeaky again, but I did my best to sound authoritative. He was just a kid, after all. "The ambulance is on its way, I promise, but I need you to keep talking to me."

The mirror reflection didn't look good—he looked kind of green and very, very still. Just the funny cast from the flashlight, I told myself. I tried to crane my head around between the seats without actually moving my hands. Even though, believe me, I wanted to move my hands. I wanted to shake this boy. Hard. And tell him to wake the hell up because he was scaring me.

"Charles. It is very important that you answer me. Right now. I need to know you're all right. You need to be all right."

I tried to take his pulse, check his breathing, but all I could feel was the blood pounding through my own veins, tingling into the fingers that were bracing this boy's head. Something bounced in the corner of my eye and, tense as I was, I nearly screamed. Lights, flashing lights, next to my patrol car. The ambulance, so long delayed, had arrived at last.

"Charles, the ambulance is here. So I need you to wake up now." I was not sounding authoritative at this point. I was not sounding like a sworn officer of the law. I was pretty much begging. "You need to wake up and be OK because you need to go home. You need to see you parents. And your brother, tell your brother how crazy you are about him and how proud you are…You need to go teach people about math. You need to go learn stuff yourself, lots of things, everything, anything you like. Because you can like more than one thing…"