I blinked a few times. Mom squeezed my hand. “I wish I could tell you something different, but there is no cure for brain damage.”
No cure. The words echoed in my head. I pulled my hand away from Mom’s and walked over to the counter. Then I got out the bread and peanut butter and began to make my lunch.
Mom didn’t know what she was talking about. Doctors couldn’t predict the future. There were new cures for diseases all the time! Scientists had figured out how to make blind and deaf people see and hear, and I’d even read an article in Scholastic News about a paralyzed girl who learned to walk again.
Just because Mom said there wasn’t a cure didn’t mean the surgery wouldn’t work for Anna.
“Without seizures, Anna will be much more comfortable,” Mom continued. “And she’ll be a lot more alert and energetic. Surgery’s risky, but it will be a good thing for her.”
“I know,” I said.
Mom got up and poured a glass of milk for me. “Pansy?”
I sat down at the table with my peanut butter sandwich. “Yeah?”
“If you ever need to talk, you know I’m here for you, right?”
“Yeah.” I took a bite of the sandwich. “Can we talk about something else now?”
Mom studied me for a minute, then smiled. “Of course we can. So, tell me all about your morning at the park. Was it a good day for skating?”
***
“Independent Reader starts tomorrow,” Miss Quetzel announced on Monday morning. “As part of your reading grade, you’ll be required to read one Independent Reader book at your level each month and take a comprehension test on the computer.” Miss Quetzel held up a library book and showed us the label on the spine. “For those of you who are new to this program, each book will be marked with a blue label that has the reading level and the amount of points you can earn. You and your parents can look on the school website for a list of all the books that have Independent Reader tests. Now, here’s the good news.” Miss Quetzel smiled at us. “For every point you earn, you’ll have the chance to spend Reading Bucks on some awesome rewards!”
An excited hum filled the room as Miss Quetzel passed around a handout. “Your parents will need to sign this paper, which explains the program and the rewards in detail.” I scanned the paper. Bookmarks. Candy. Homework passes. Even better: popsicles in the room at lunch with Miss Quetzel!
“We get to eat in the room?” someone else called out.
“It’s up to you if you want to save up your Bucks for popsicles in the room. Some of the other prizes won’t cost as much,” Miss Quetzel said. “But all of it depends on how much reading you do. There’s also the school trophy for the student in each grade who earns the most points. But remember, class, this is not a contest to see who is the smartest. The student who wins the contest is the one who puts the most time and effort into reading. And my goal as a teacher is to encourage all of you to become lifelong readers.”
While Miss Quetzel explained more about the comprehension tests and the goal of the program, my mind raced. Last year, Anna had tried to earn the most points so she could win a trophy at the awards ceremony at the end of the year. But by January, it was clear she wasn’t going to make it. Daniel Walker, a quiet boy who always walked around with his nose in a book, had taken over the first-place spot.
By February, he was so far ahead that Anna stopped racing through books. Now, it was up to me to win this year’s trophy. And this was something I could do. I was really good at reading, and I could read pretty fast.
I would win. For both of us.
CHAPTER SIX
Twelve Weeks, Two Days
The next day in the school library, I checked out two thick books. But when I got home and started reading, I discovered a new problem. How could I find time to roller-blade every day and also read enough to earn more points than Daniel in the contest? Roller-blade while reading a book at the same time?
I didn’t skate all week and finished the first book over the weekend. A few days later, the solution to my skating/reading problem came to me like a postcard in the mailbox. I’d roller-blade to school instead of waiting for the afternoon! That would give me more time to earn Independent Reader points after school and on the weekend.
“Are you sure about this?” Mom asked me as I sat on the bottom porch step, lacing up my skates. “I don’t want you to be late.”
“Rollerblades are faster than walking.” I stood up. “I’ll get there in no time.”
“Don’t forget your backpack.” Mom strapped it over my shoulders. I leaned forward and touched the ground with one hand.
Mom shook her head. “Really, Pansy, there’s plenty of time for skating after school. How are you going to make it with that heavy backpack?”
“No problem,” I said, standing up tall. “The backpack is great for balance. See you later!” With that, I pushed off with a less than graceful stroke—but I was up on my wheels. And moving a whole lot faster than if I had walked.
“Pansy!” Mom called out. “What about your shoes?”
“I’ve got them!” I yelled back as I pushed with the other foot.
Push and swing your arms. Glide. Now the other side. Push and swing your arms. Glide. Halfway down the block, I was starting to get the hang of it. I had figured out that if you swing the opposite arm back when you push off with your foot, you can really pick up speed . . . which was actually a little fun.
Until I got to the top of the street and turned the corner. My backpack swung to one side, and my feet slipped right out from under me. Klunk went my backpack as it hit the ground. Thwack went my knee as it struck the concrete.
Yowwch. I didn’t have to look at my knees and hands to know that they were bleeding. I sat up slowly, brushing the pebbles from my palms. My jeans were torn, and blood was beginning to gush from my wounds.
Well, maybe not gush exactly. But it was definitely a trickle. I hadn’t scratched myself up this badly since I was seven, when I played Follow the Leader with Anna and fell off a brick wall.
Of course back then, I cried. Anna made me sit and wait while she ran back to her house to get first aid supplies. Then she cleaned off my knees and stuck the Band-Aids on, just like a real nurse.
I dabbed at my knees and hands with a loose piece of denim, gritting my teeth. Well, there was no one who would magically appear to doctor me up this time. That left me with two choices: roller-blade to Andy’s and switch to shoes there, or switch to shoes now. I really wanted a third choice—to sit in this spot the rest of the day. But extraordinary people don’t give up.
Extraordinary people are not stupid, either. I took off my skates and switched to my shoes. As I limped down the street to Andy’s, I realized I’d forgotten something important when I took off on blades that morning.
Rollerblades are heavy. And they’re really heavy in a backpack along with your math book, especially if you’ve fallen and skinned your knee like you used to do when you were a little kid. Which, by the way, hurt just as badly, but what stinks about being ten-and-a-half is you have to be brave.
“Pansy!” Andy hopped off his porch when he saw me coming and ran over to meet me. “What happened?”
I shrugged. “No big deal.” I pulled the backpack off my aching shoulders and handed it to him.
Andy reached for it, then dropped it to the ground. “What’s in your backpack? A hundred pounds of rocks?”
“Rollerblades.” I hobbled along beside him. “Do you have any Band-Aids?”
“Why are there Rollerblades in your backpack? Why are you limping? How come you need a Band-Aid?”
I let out a long sigh. For a smart kid, Andy sure couldn’t add up the clues. I pulled myself up onto his porch and collapsed on the first step. “I started out on Rollerblades. Then I fell.” I held up my scratched-up palms and pointed to my torn jeans.
“Okay. Be right back.” Andy ran in the house. He came back out with a super-sized Band-Aid for my knee, two smaller ones for my hand, and a bottl
e of antiseptic. After I cleaned myself up and stuck on the bandages, I pulled out my skates and dropped them on the porch. “I’ll just pick them up after school,” I told him as we headed down the driveway.
“Whatever you say.”
“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” I told him. “Why would I want to carry them all the way to school?”
“Beats me,” said Andy. “I don’t get why you were skating to school anyway.”
“For practice. Didn’t I tell you Mom said she’ll sign me up for ice-skating lessons if I show her I’m serious about it?”
Andy grinned. “You think she’ll still sign you up for ice-skating lessons after you come home with torn jeans from roller-blading?”
“She said I have to show I’m motivated. I think I just proved that, don’t you?”
“Never knew you wanted to be a champion figure skater.”
I smoothed the Band-Aids on my hands. I wanted to tell him the real reason I was killing myself on Rollerblades. But it was hard to explain. “I never said anything about being a champion. I just want to learn to skate, that’s all.”
“You can’t wait until after school?”
I shook my head. “No time for that. I’ve got a lot of reading to do. Hey, I’ll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell.”
“Who am I going to tell?”
I leaned over and whispered, “I’m going to be first place in the reading contest.”
“What?”
“You heard me. First place. I’m really good at reading, you know.”
“Well, yeah, sure. But first place?”
“Why not?”
“Because Daniel Walker’s in our class, that’s why,” Andy said as we approached the entrance of the school.
“So what?”
“Daniel Walker’s won the contest for the last two years, that’s what.”
I stopped and turned to face Andy. “You don’t think I can do it?”
“I’m not saying you can’t do it. But it won’t be easy.” He shrugged and walked toward the entrance. “What’s the big deal anyway? It’s just a dumb contest.”
“Maybe to you. But not to me,” I said. Or Anna. “Besides,” I added, “it’s not like Daniel’s a genius or anything.”
“He’s not a genius,” Andy said. “But the only thing he really does is read.”
Andy had a point. Daniel didn’t seem to care about friends, he wasn’t good at sports, and he didn’t appear to have any hobbies. He took a book with him to lunch and to recess. Was I going to have to do the same if I wanted to beat him in the contest?
I was hanging up my backpack, still thinking about the reading contest, when someone rammed me from the side. Like a big solid truck. I turned to find Zach Turansky beside me. He narrowed his eyes and pushed me out of the way with his broad shoulders.
I would have pushed back, except the truth is, I was aching all over. My shoulders. My knees. My ankles. My arms and legs. Even my chin hurt, even though I couldn’t remember hitting it.
I leaned down to adjust the Band-Aid on my knee, forgetting all about Zach.
“Hey, Klutz,” he bent over, his stinky breath washing over my face. “What’d you do, trip over your own feet on the way to school?”
I straightened up, squared my shoulders, and gave him my best glare. That was it. On this particular day, that was the bravest I could be.
Zach sneered. Then he said with a rough laugh, “Maybe you should get a wheelchair like your retard friend Anna. Might keep you from tearing up your jeans.”
My eyes misted over, and I balled up my fists, even though my palms stung. I wanted to yell, “Anna isn’t retarded! She is waaay smarter than you could ever dream to be!”
But I couldn’t get a word out. I spun away from him and limped off to my seat, thinking about what happened after Anna went into the hospital last spring. When we returned after break, the school counselor, Mrs. Levin, spoke to the whole class while Andy was out of the room. She explained all about how Anna had caught meningitis and how her brain didn’t send the right messages anymore.
“It’s one of those rare cases where a perfectly healthy person becomes infected, and it leads to a severe brain injury,” Mrs. Levin had told the class. “Andy and his family need our thoughts and prayers right now. Anna has survived a very serious illness, but there are a lot of challenges ahead.”
I had sat at my desk, my hands clasped tightly in my lap while the counselor spoke. My throat had felt tight and dry as Mrs. Levin called on people and tried to answer their questions.
Later that day, I had noticed that kids were staring at me and whispering to each other. But no one asked me how it felt to have your best friend become brain damaged. And no one asked Andy how it felt to have a twin sister who’d turned into someone else.
I think people were scared to say anything to me or Andy right after it happened. But a few weeks later, Andy turned Zach’s name in to the teacher when he was the room monitor. Zach had been throwing paper airplanes around the room and making everyone laugh, and Zach had to miss recess that afternoon.
The first time Zach called Andy “twin retard” was soon after that. But he always made his comments about Anna in a very quiet voice, like he was afraid to get caught. I never hated anyone before. But I hated Zach Turansky with all my heart.
The bell rang and brought me back from my daydream. Miss Quetzel said, “Let’s start with our speed drills this morning to get them out of the way. Those of you who’ve finished through the twelves, please take out a book and read silently.”
Twelves? People had already made it all the way to twelve? I was still on three. Three!
I heard Madison take her book out of her desk, but I stopped thinking about everything except the quiz. I stared down at my torn jeans as I waited for Miss Quetzel to tell us to begin. I raced through my three times tables, finishing before Miss Quetzel called, “Time.”
I put down my pencil and smiled. My hands didn’t even sting anymore. Tomorrow morning, I’d skate to Andy’s house again. And this time, I’d bring my own Band-Aids.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Twelve Weeks, One Day
Want to come over this afternoon?” Andy asked me at recess on Thursday.
I climbed to the top of the monkey bars and sat down next to him in our usual recess spot, my knees still stiff from the crash the day before. But I’d found a solution. Knee pads! Yesterday I found an old pair in the basement, and this morning they worked like a charm. I turned to Andy. “Sorry,” I told him. “I have Girl Scouts this afternoon.”
Andy’s mouth dropped open. “Girl Scouts?” he managed to say, as if I’d just announced I was taking off on a spaceship to another galaxy.
I tucked my hair behind my ear. “We’re meeting in the media center after school.”
“Since when did you become interested in Girl Scouts?”
“Since now. The flier came home yesterday, and I told my parents I wanted to join.”
Andy snorted.
“What’s wrong with Girl Scouts? You’re in Boy Scouts, aren’t you?”
Andy shrugged. “Well, sure. I’ve been in Boy Scouts since first grade. But I like camping. You’re the one who freaks out about bugs.”
“So maybe I’ve changed.”
“You?” Andy let out a laugh, but it wasn’t a real one.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I can join Girl Scouts if I want to.”
Andy looked off into the distance. I turned away from him, too, staring out at the rest of the playground. An autumn breeze blew orange and golden leaves from the trees. You could see just about everything going on from our spot on top of the jungle gym. There was the regular group of boys playing basketball on the court, kids playing kickball on the field, some playing tag, others on the swings and climbing equipment. I spotted Madison and a group of girls walking around the outside of the play area, talking.
Up until last December, Andy used to hang out with his best friend, James Olivio, at recess
. They didn’t usually join the games, but they’d sit on the monkey bars or under a tree with their notebooks, sharing comic strips they’d drawn. Like Andy, James was into art and building stuff, and sometimes we’d all play in the Liddell tree house after school, creating imaginary worlds.
But James moved to Florida after winter break, and that’s when Andy starting hanging out with me and Anna more. He wasn’t interested in running around at recess with the other boys, and I sure was glad to have Andy after Anna got sick, or I would have been completely alone. But sometimes I wondered if Andy wished he had another boy to hang out with instead of just me.
“You never joined Girl Scouts when Anna asked you to,” Andy said quietly.
That’s why I’m doing it now, I thought. But I didn’t say it aloud. I turned to face him. “That was last year. I’m different now. People can change, you know.”
“I bet Madison Poplin is in Girl Scouts,” Andy said.
“She is, but—”
“I knew it.” Andy jumped down from the bars.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, climbing down after him.
Andy didn’t answer me. “I think I’ll go check out the kickball game,” he said, even though I knew it wasn’t one of his favorite things to do.
I watched as he wandered off toward the field, leaving me on the playground all by myself. Madison waved as she walked past, but she didn’t ask if I’d join them. So I sat down on an empty swing and pumped back and forth, thinking about why I simply had to join Girl Scouts. And it had nothing to do with Madison Poplin.
Last year, I’d promised Anna I’d go to Girl Scout sleep-away camp with her in the mountains for a whole week during spring break, even though neither of us had ever been to sleep-away camp before.
I could hear Mrs. Liddell’s voice inside my head: “You’ll have such great time! You’ll go kayaking, rappelling, hiking, camping under the stars . . .”
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