by Chelsie Hill
I had survived the accident, but the guy who hit me, the drunk driver, hadn’t. I asked some questions about him and the logistics of what happened right after I woke up in the hospital, but Dad was quick to tell me not to focus on it, to put my energy into recovery instead. And when I asked Mom for any details, she changed the subject as quickly as she could. Even Amanda and Jack had warned me not to look into it, saying the whole thing would just upset me. So, since I couldn’t remember the accident anyway, and adjusting to my future in a wheelchair was more than enough for my brain to process, especially with all the meds I was on, I put it out of my mind.
But that night as I tried to fall asleep, Jack’s mention of how easily I could have died triggered something in my head. And his comment coupled with the morbid curiosity that comes alive in the middle of the night prompted me to do a search for my accident and see what came up. I typed “Kara Moore + accident” into the search on my phone and chewed on my thumb while I waited for the results to load.
At first, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at; the picture that loaded on my phone screen didn’t make any sense at all. It wasn’t until I enlarged it that I was able to see that the unrecognizable blob I stared at was my car. My poor Prius, a gift from my parents on my sixteenth birthday, crumpled into an indecipherable pile of metal bits and pieces.
I was in there, I thought as I stared at the horrific photo. My mind struggled to reconcile that fact with the image on my screen, so I kept thinking it over and over. I was in there. I was in there.
Eventually I made myself move on from the photo, and I scanned the attached article for any piece of new information until I found what I was looking for. The name of the driver.
Kyle Hayes.
Kyle Hayes was twenty-nine years old, single, and had two previous DUIs and a suspended license. He’d been kicked out of a bar earlier in the night—probably around the time I had been sitting out on Rob Chang’s patio waiting for Curt—for being too drunk, but someone put him in a cab. It’s unclear how he ended up behind the wheel of his car that night, the police said.
And now he’s not around to ask.
There was a small photo of him at the bottom of the article, and seeing the face of the man who had changed my life was more of a stab in the chest than seeing my shredded car. I guess I’d been expecting the guy who drunk-drove his car through a red light and right into my spine to look trashy and gross, like some pathetic loser who didn’t have a handle on his life. Like someone who lurked in back alleys and wore dirty tank tops and smelled like cigarettes and failure. But he didn’t. Kyle Hayes had worked in pharmaceutical sales, the article said, and he was actually sort of hot.
I guess even hot guys can get drunk and ruin someone’s life.
I couldn’t get comfortable as I tried to fall asleep, and no amount of turning over from my front to my back and over again was helping to clear Kyle Hayes and my broken car from my mind. I still couldn’t process what I had seen of the accident, but looking up that article did prove one thing to me: Jack was right. I was lucky to be alive. Charmed.
A second chance at life, that’s what I had in front of me. Now all Kara 2.0 had to do was figure out how to use it.
CHAPTER 14
Missing homework was avalanching in a big way, so Monday morning I got to school early to stop in to a few classes and beg for some forgiveness. First stop was English with Mr. David, who needed to give me a makeup quiz on the beginning of Pride and Prejudice.
“Ah, good morning, Kara,” he said when he saw me lurking in his doorway. “Come on in. I have your quiz right here.”
Luckily, the quiz was pretty easy, thanks to SparkNotes and Colin Firth, and I finished in a matter of minutes. I had tried to read the chapters, really I had, but all the meds the doctors had me on left me staring at the book without registering a single word. “Is there anything else I need to make up while I’m here?”
“Oh, I’m sure there is,” he said, and clicked away on his computer, probably checking out my grade. “You sure have a lot to catch up on, don’t you? That must be tough on you. With everything you’re going through and all.”
“Yeah, between making up homework, physical therapy, and—” I took a deep breath and prepared to say it out loud. “—now starting my fund-raising campaign for Homecoming, it’s going to be a lot to do. But I can handle it.” I let a smile creep into my voice as I said the words, thinking back to my talk on Saturday with Jack. After spending all Sunday deliberating, I’d decided he was right. I could do this and I should do this. I deserved to do something to get my life back to normal. I shouldn’t let Kyle Hayes continue to have power over me.
Mr. David’s head snapped up from his computer at my mention of Homecoming, and he tilted his head and crinkled his eyebrows. “You’re in the running for Homecoming Queen?”
I nodded. “Water polo nominated me before the accident.”
“Oh,” he said. “Have you talked to them since then? I mean, now that you’re…?”
Did he seriously just say that? Of course he did—he’s a jerk.
I opened my mouth to reply, but he kept on yammering.
“You know, they might not even realize … you should probably go over to Activities after this and talk to Mrs. Mendoza.”
“What are you saying?” I’d always gone out of my way to be extra polite to teachers, but no teacher had ever made me feel as small and worthless as Mr. David just had. No person had, actually, and his words exploded like shrapnel in my head, causing more damage the longer they bounced around in there.
And, the funny thing was, I didn’t even care about Homecoming all that much. When Jack told me my name was still on the ballot, my first instinct was to roll in to school as fast as my wheels would take me and ask to be taken off. But Jack’s belief in me sparked something, a desire to push myself out of my comfort zone. And after reading about my accident, I’d poked around some of the disability message boards I spent my nights reading, and I learned that there were lots of girls in wheelchairs around the country doing awesome things at their schools.
I’d started to think that maybe this whole thing could be fun.
I guess not.
Mr. David stood up and walked toward me. “Don’t get me wrong, Kara. I was only saying—”
Hands shaking, I gripped my wheels and rolled myself back. Away from him. “You were only saying that water polo wouldn’t want some cripple representing them at Homecoming. Just that a girl in wheelchair would never win anyway, so why bother. Right? That’s what you were saying?”
“Kara, no. That’s not—”
“That’s sure what it sounded like to me.” The classroom felt like it was closing in on me, and I wanted desperately to get out of there. But another disadvantage of a wheelchair is that you can’t really make a dramatic exit. There’s no wheelchair equivalent to “turning on your heel and storming out.” I pretty much had to maneuver a three-point turn to get myself toward the door again, but once I was facing the right way, I pushed myself out of that classroom as fast as my arms could manage. Mr. David called after me the whole time, but I ignored him.
I couldn’t ignore what he’d said, though.
In all honesty, he put in words exactly what had been running through my mind since I started back at school. I wasn’t a normal girl anymore, not a girl who could win Homecoming. I was Wheelchair Girl now, and no one would vote for Wheelchair Girl. I was sure water polo didn’t want me.
But I wasn’t going to let Mr. David get to me, was I? He was a jerk to everyone, all the time. No one ever believed the completely insensitive and insulting things he said. Why should I start now?
Stopping at the corner, I ran my hands through my hair over and over as Mr. David’s words repeated in my head. Somewhere in there, my conversation with Jack was trying to break through—but Mr. David’s words were louder. They resonated so loudly because they were an echo of my own thoughts.
I pushed myself forward, in the direction of
the activities room. Of course, the first person I saw when I got there was Jack, making his Red Ribbon Week posters outside the door with some of the other Student Government people. “Hey, Kara!” All smiles, he hopped up from his poster making and came over to me. “Are you going in? Allow me.” He held open the door and followed me inside. “Did you come here to help with posters or something? Did you get my mental signal that we’re short on girls with nice handwriting this morning? No one should let me write the posters. I thought they learned that from the prom debacle last year.”
“I’m actually looking for Mrs. Mendoza. Is she here?”
The problem with someone like Jack, whom I’ve known so well for so long, is that he knew all my voices. My happy voice, my scared voice, my nervous voice, my fake voice. So I couldn’t even pretend like I was there for some innocent reason. He could hear it in my voice.
“Kara, no.”
“I just … I can’t do it.” I let out a long sigh and told him about the conversation I’d had with Mr. David.
Jack’s face grew redder and redder as I filled him in. “How does this guy still have a job? My God,” he said as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “That’s not true, Kara. You know it’s not true.”
But before I had a chance to reply, Mrs. Mendoza walked into the room, holding a coffee mug the size of her head. “Oh, good morning, Kara. Nice to see you.” I watched as her eyes darted from my face, down to my legs, and back to my face again, wrapping up with the head tilt. Like, did people think my legs would have disappeared? Or they would be all shriveled up? Or I would suddenly stand up and tap dance? I don’t know what they expected, but they always looked.
“I think I’m going to take my name off the nomination list for Homecoming.” I’d been hoping my voice would sound decisive and commanding, but instead it shook and came out at almost a whisper.
“You are?” She put down her coffee and leaned over the counter that separated us, resting on her elbows and looking at me with concern. “Why?”
“She’s not,” Jack said, and he actually grabbed the back of my chair and started to push me away. “She’s kidding. Very funny, Kara. Let’s go.”
“Don’t you dare,” I said through gritted teeth. “Move me back.”
He righted my chair and let out a defeated sigh. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll be outside.”
“Are you sure about this, Kara?” Mrs. Mendoza said after Jack went back outside to continue his posters.
I nodded. “I’m sure water polo is just leaving me on the ballot to be nice.” Nice wasn’t the word I’d use to describe my last encounter with the water polo team, but Mrs. Mendoza didn’t need to know that. “They nominated me before the accident because I was Curt Mitchell’s girlfriend. But Curt and I aren’t together anymore, and I think they feel bad taking me off.” This was way too much information to share with a teacher, but for some reason I couldn’t stop talking.
“Okay, if you insist.” Mrs. Mendoza picked up a clipboard from her desk. “I’m sure they left you on the list because they wanted you representing them—”
“More likely they just forgot.” I let out a humorless laugh that sounded more like a snort.
She took a big sip from her coffee. “So, I’m going to take you off the list as water polo’s nominee and let them know they need to pick someone new. And you’ll be officially out of the running for Homecoming Queen.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I remembered the feeling of excitement that flooded me back when Curt told me I was their nominee. Homecoming was something I’d always secretly hoped for and never thought would actually happen. Since it was a ridiculous dream to begin with, it wasn’t so hard to give it up now.
“I’m sure,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.
I flinched as she crossed out my name.
That was it. The last of Old Kara, gone. Kara who was a dancer and who had a boyfriend and who had a chance of being Homecoming Queen and having a normal senior year and a normal life. That Kara was finally eliminated with one drunk driver to the side of the car and one firm stroke of ballpoint pen across what was left.
Jack waited for me outside the activities room, and when I came through the door, he was angry. I could tell by the wrinkle between his eyes.
But I was angry, too.
“How dare you try to move me without my permission, Jack. Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
“I’m sorry about that, Kara. I really am.” He let out a sigh. “But I didn’t want to see you make a mistake.”
“Taking my name off the ballot isn’t a mistake. It’s my choice. Just like where I want to be and where I want to go is my choice. Not yours.”
He stared at his Converse for a few seconds before he looked back up at me, his face hardened. “You know they’re just going to nominate Jenny Roy in your place.” He pretty much spat her name out.
I rolled my eyes. I was in no mood for his drama. “I told you at the mall that I didn’t really want to do it. I let you talk me into thinking that I could be normal, that this would all be normal. But we both know it won’t be, Jack, and I don’t want to pretend that it will. Even as Kara 2.0, I’m not Homecoming material. Everyone knows that.”
“God, Kara, it’s not like you’re damaged goods. And I know you. There’s no way you’re okay with just handing Jenny Roy something that should be yours.”
“Actually, it’s perfect,” I said bitterly. “Now everyone gets what they want, right? Water polo doesn’t have to regret nominating me or feel guilty for taking me off, Jenny Roy gets her moment of Homecoming glory, and I get to not get stared at and humiliated in front of the whole school. Win–win–win.”
“Kara, you know—”
“Just leave it, okay, Jack? I’ve obviously disappointed you, but this is how it is. Awful Mr. David is right for once. I have no business being on Homecoming Court. I don’t want everyone’s pity, and I’d rather just let it go. Can you respect that? Please?”
Jack blinked a few times and pulled his lips tight into a line. He let out a long breath and said, “Fine. I’m sorry.” I didn’t see what he did after that, because the bell rang, so I turned myself around and pushed on to my first class with one less thing on my mind. Now I could go back to trying my hardest to disappear into the crowd.
CHAPTER 15
In an effort to fake some normalcy and family togetherness, Mom and I spent most evenings on the couch. We watched trashy reality TV with Logan curled up between us while I worked on my homework and looked at videos on the Internet until Dad got home and pretended that everything was exactly as it should be. Tonight I was boycotting Mr. David’s Pride and Prejudice homework out of spite; Mom and I were both quiet, staring at the screen while Logan snored away. None of us had expected the doorbell, and when it rang, Logan let out two enthusiastic barks, Mom’s head swung toward me, and she opened her mouth for just a second but closed it quickly.
“You were going to ask me to get it, weren’t you?” It was supposed to be a joke, and I tried to smile at my mom. I mean, sometimes I forgot I wasn’t the only one who had to adjust to the independence that I’d lost with my legs. Sure, I could get the door, but Mom would have to get up and pull my chair closer so I could scoot myself into it. By the time I got in my chair and got over there, the people at the door would probably start getting impatient, and it would be way easier for Mom to just get the door herself. So, I tried to make a joke about it. But I could tell as I looked at her reaction that my tone was all wrong and my face was all wrong and that somehow my joke and my smile got messed up somewhere between my head and my mouth.
Mom pushed herself up from the couch and didn’t look at me. “Of course not, Kara.”
From the entryway, I could hear a muffled “Surprise!” and Mom laughing, and a few seconds later she returned to the TV room with Jack and Amanda, who was carrying a huge pizza box. Logan, who had jumped off the couch with Mom, was trailing close behind
the food, tail wagging enthusiastically.
“Look who stopped by for dinner,” Mom said in a fake-cheery voice. “Now I can tell your father not to rush home.” Her voice strained when she mentioned my dad, and I wondered how much had been going on behind the scenes between the two of them lately. The blankets were still folded by the couch, but if the two of them were still fighting, at least they weren’t doing it in front of me anymore.
“We figured you could use some dinner,” Amanda said. She disappeared into the kitchen with the pizza, and Mom followed behind her, offering to help.
“Hey,” Jack said. He lurked in the entrance to the TV room, shifting from one foot to the other. Speaking of strained, things had been bumpy between us since the Homecoming debacle, and I hadn’t made too much of an effort to ease the bumpiness. I wondered if him showing up out of the blue like this was some sort of peace offering.
“Hey,” I said. “Why don’t you sit down instead of standing there all awkward? We’re watching trashy reality TV.”
Jack smiled. I guess I’d said the right thing, because the awkwardness melted off of him. Well, the extra awkwardness, anyway.
He settled into the couch next to me. “So, what terrible show is this?”
I patted the empty space between us, and Logan hopped up, stepped over a stray pillow, and curled himself up in my lap. I scratched the soft fur between his ears. “This dude is looking for love, and all of the girls are wearing masks and fat suits, so he has to judge them based on personality.”
“Are you serious? This can’t really be a thing.”
“I swear. It’s so ridiculous, but we can’t look away. It’s like a—” I’d almost said it was like a car wreck. That was a saying I should probably weed out of my vocabulary.
I caught Jack up on the events of the awful reality show as Amanda and Mom came back in the room with plates of pizza and glasses of soda. We finished the dumb show and started another one, and we laughed and talked and for a little bit I even forgot about my legs because I was sitting on the couch eating pizza with my friends and my mom and my dog, just like before the accident.
