Daniel and his trusty Scooter

A Boy with a Scooter is a story told by thirteen-year-old Daniel, who battles his ‘worry bugs’ while navigating a life most of us would find overwhelming. This book resonates deeply with teens who face similar challenges, offering them hope and a belief in a way forward. It’s an essential read for parents and families with children facing OCD and a valuable tool for classmates, teammates, and friends who want to help and understand better. Teachers and counselors will find it excellent for classroom discussions and case studies. And for any child who feels different, left out, or not accepted, this story shines a light of empathy and connection. It’s a book that has the potential to make everyone a little better—and to start building a more understanding world for all of us.

Here is one of the most exciting scenes from the book:

It’s Saturday again, and the day is beautiful—warm, with spring in full bloom. It feels like summer today. I’ve been on my medication for three days now, but apart from feeling sleepy, I don’t notice much difference. When I fall asleep, I switch off almost instantly.

I’m riding Jess around town, and she takes me far, all the way to the other side where the beach is. The water is still cold, and the swimming season won’t start for another two or three weeks, so the beach is empty. Jess and I follow the bike path, enjoying the view and the smell of salt and sand in the air.

Far ahead, I notice a group of kids playing volleyball. Curious, I come closer and realize they’re from my school. And there’s Linda. Three girls and two boys. The boys, Dylan and Bobby, and the girls—Linda, Sarah, and Jessica - are all in my grade. A little kid, maybe four years old, is playing with an inflatable flamingo on the sand. Must be Sarah’s younger brother—I remember hearing she had one.

Jess and I drive past and park not far from them. I sit on the sand next to Jess, watching the sea. The ball dribbles close to me, so I stand up to kick it back. The girls see me.

“Hello, Daniel,” Jessica says, the closest to the ball.

I just wave at everyone and kick the ball back to her. They keep playing. I keep watching the sea. A few minutes later, Jessica comes over and asks the strangest question of all.

“You wanna play with us?”

“Umm,” I stammer, “I’d love to, but I’m not good at it.”

“Come on,” she urges, smiling. “Let’s give it a try.”

I get up and walk over, trying not to look at Linda, who’s eyeing me suspiciously. The boys are shirtless, their muscles toned from the gym, their skin tanned, and their hair wild. They know what they’re doing and are fully aware the girls are stealing glances at them. They move confidently, laughing loudly like they own the beach.

Dylan flexes casually, his muscles defined, and his confidence is effortless, as if he doesn’t even have to try. He smirks, knowing everyone is watching. Bobby catches the ball perfectly, spinning it in his hands, showing off his skills. They move like they own the space, their swagger evident in every step, like they’ve done this a thousand times before. Every glance they throw is deliberate, knowing they’re the center of attention—like they expect the admiration that follows them. They’re the kind of boys everyone loves—the alpha, the leaders who always seem to have the girls' attention without even trying.

We start playing, but it doesn’t take long before the boys laugh at my attempts.

I’m doing my best. I watch how they play, trying to mimic them, but it’s not working. My coordination is terrible. Jess is probably laughing at me, too. It’s a strange feeling—on one hand, I’m happy Jessica asked me to join. On the other hand, I can tell they’re having fun watching me mess up like a clown in a circus.

During a small break, Sarah says, “Hold on, guys. I’ll get some water for Peter.” Peter must be the little boy. She grabs a water bottle and then looks around. “Where is he?” she asks, her eyes scanning the beach.

Everyone looks around, too, but they’re looking in the wrong direction. I notice something right away—there’s no flamingo. My heart drops.

“He’s there!” I shout, pointing at the sea. A small pink dot is far off now, drifting away.

“Oh my God!” screams Sarah, sprinting toward the water. The beach is empty except for us—no cars, adults, or anyone else around.

“Dylan!” she shouts. “Can you get him back?” Dylan is her boyfriend, so she turns to him for help.