Lessons From the Kissing Booth

When Ryan was very small we called him "scooter" because although he would go to sleep laying stretched out like you would expect, by morning he would be bunched up in the far corner at the top of his crib. He had huge dark blue eyes and dimples: one that was visible all the time and another that only came out when he smiled.

Emotional like his mother, he often threatened to jump out of the window of our one storey house. My father and I, essentially unconcerned, would tell him to go right ahead.

Almost a month ago, he turned 12. I watch him like a science experiment, like a petrie dish full of mold. I'm not sure what's going to happen next and if it's going to be fatal to those around him.