When Trevor was in elementary school, he remembers he used to get in trouble a lot for talking during class and never sitting still. The teacher would say it was time for quiet reading, and Trevor would open his book, excited to find out what spells the main character would cast; what new, fantastical creatures he would encounter. But then after a page or so, Trevor’s eyes would start to wander, and he’d remember he needed to sharpen his pencil, or his legs began feeling restless, or he really urgently had to tell his buddy a story about what happened at recess, and inevitably Trevor would end up doing something that his mom later told him the teacher described as “disruptive.”

Shortly after that, Trevor’s mom took him to see an older woman who worked in an office full of toys he loved to play with: superhero action figures and race cars and notched wooden logs that fit together to build cool cabins. The memories get fuzzy after that, but he can recall his mom saying he was going to start some medicine that would help him in school, until his dad got upset about it. What Trevor remembers most is the shouting in the kitchen, his dad using words that made Trevor think something was wrong with him, and needing medicine to do what the other kids in his class managed without only cemented that.