her a whole box of tissues. Both of them ignored me while she sobbed and he tried to find nice words to say to make her feel better. He didn’t do a very good job.
Finally, he gave her options. “You and your husband have several decisions to make,” he told Mom. “You can choose to keep her at home, or you can send her to a special school for the developmentally disabled. There aren’t many choices here locally.”
Where do they get those almost-pleasant-sounding phrases to describe kids like me?
Mom made a sound that could have been the mewing of a kitten. She was losing it.
Dr. Hugely continued. “You can also decide to put Melody in a residential facility where she can be cared for and kept comfortable.”
He pulled out a colorful brochure with a smilingchild in a wheelchair on the cover and handed it to Mom. I trembled as she took it.
“Let’s see,” the doctor said, “Melody is, ah, five now. That’s a perfect age for her to learn to adjust to a new environment. You and your husband can get on with your lives without her as a burden. In time, her memories of you will fade.”
I stared at Mom frantically. I didn’t want to be sent away. Was I a burden? I never thought about it like that. Maybe it would be easier for them if I weren’t around. I gulped. My hands got cold.
Mom wasn’t looking at me. She was staring daggers at Dr. Hugely. She crumpled up the tissue she held and stood up. “Let me tell you something, Doctor. There is no way in heaven or hell that we will be sending Melody away to a nursing home!”
I blinked. Was this my mother? I blinked again, and she was still there, right up in Dr. Hugely’s face!
She wasn’t finished. “You know what?” my mother said as she angrily hurled the brochure into the trash can. “I think you’re cold and insensitive. I hope you never have a child with difficulties—you’d probably put it out with your trash!”
Dr. Hugely looked shocked.
“And what’s more,” she continued, “I think you’re wrong—I know you are! Melody has more brainshidden in her head than you’ll ever have, despite those fancy degrees from fancy schools you’ve got posted all over your walls!”
It was the doctor’s turn to blink.
“You’ve got it easy—you have all your physical functions working properly. You never have to struggle just to be understood. You think you’re smart because you have a medical degree?”
He was wise enough to keep his mouth shut and ashamed enough to lower his head.
Mom was on a roll. “You’re not so intelligent, sir— you’re just lucky! All of us who have all our faculties intact are just plain blessed. Melody is able to figure out things, communicate, and manage in a world where nothing works right for her. She’s the one with the true intelligence!”
She marched out of his office then, rolling me swiftly through the thick doors. In the hall we did a quick fist bump—well, the best I could manage. My hands were no longer cold.
“I’m taking you right now and enrolling you at Spaulding Street Elementary School,” she announced with determination as we headed back to the car. “Let’s get busy!”
CHAPTER 5
I have been at Spaulding Street Elementary School for five years. It’s very ordinary—filled with kids, just like the schools I see on television shows.
Kids who chase each other on the playground and run down the hall to get to their desks just before the bell rings.
Kids who slide on icy patches in the winter and stomp in puddles in the spring.
Kids who shout and push.
Kids who sharpen their pencils, go to the board to do math problems, and open their books to read a poem.
Kids who write their answers on notebook paper and stuff their homework into backpacks.
Kids who throw food at each other in the lunchroom while they sip on juice boxes.
Kids who sing in the choir, learn to play the violin, and take gymnastics or ballet or swimming lessons after school.
Kids who shoot baskets in the gym.
Finally, he gave her options. “You and your husband have several decisions to make,” he told Mom. “You can choose to keep her at home, or you can send her to a special school for the developmentally disabled. There aren’t many choices here locally.”
Where do they get those almost-pleasant-sounding phrases to describe kids like me?
Mom made a sound that could have been the mewing of a kitten. She was losing it.
Dr. Hugely continued. “You can also decide to put Melody in a residential facility where she can be cared for and kept comfortable.”
He pulled out a colorful brochure with a smilingchild in a wheelchair on the cover and handed it to Mom. I trembled as she took it.
“Let’s see,” the doctor said, “Melody is, ah, five now. That’s a perfect age for her to learn to adjust to a new environment. You and your husband can get on with your lives without her as a burden. In time, her memories of you will fade.”
I stared at Mom frantically. I didn’t want to be sent away. Was I a burden? I never thought about it like that. Maybe it would be easier for them if I weren’t around. I gulped. My hands got cold.
Mom wasn’t looking at me. She was staring daggers at Dr. Hugely. She crumpled up the tissue she held and stood up. “Let me tell you something, Doctor. There is no way in heaven or hell that we will be sending Melody away to a nursing home!”
I blinked. Was this my mother? I blinked again, and she was still there, right up in Dr. Hugely’s face!
She wasn’t finished. “You know what?” my mother said as she angrily hurled the brochure into the trash can. “I think you’re cold and insensitive. I hope you never have a child with difficulties—you’d probably put it out with your trash!”
Dr. Hugely looked shocked.
“And what’s more,” she continued, “I think you’re wrong—I know you are! Melody has more brainshidden in her head than you’ll ever have, despite those fancy degrees from fancy schools you’ve got posted all over your walls!”
It was the doctor’s turn to blink.
“You’ve got it easy—you have all your physical functions working properly. You never have to struggle just to be understood. You think you’re smart because you have a medical degree?”
He was wise enough to keep his mouth shut and ashamed enough to lower his head.
Mom was on a roll. “You’re not so intelligent, sir— you’re just lucky! All of us who have all our faculties intact are just plain blessed. Melody is able to figure out things, communicate, and manage in a world where nothing works right for her. She’s the one with the true intelligence!”
She marched out of his office then, rolling me swiftly through the thick doors. In the hall we did a quick fist bump—well, the best I could manage. My hands were no longer cold.
“I’m taking you right now and enrolling you at Spaulding Street Elementary School,” she announced with determination as we headed back to the car. “Let’s get busy!”
CHAPTER 5
I have been at Spaulding Street Elementary School for five years. It’s very ordinary—filled with kids, just like the schools I see on television shows.
Kids who chase each other on the playground and run down the hall to get to their desks just before the bell rings.
Kids who slide on icy patches in the winter and stomp in puddles in the spring.
Kids who shout and push.
Kids who sharpen their pencils, go to the board to do math problems, and open their books to read a poem.
Kids who write their answers on notebook paper and stuff their homework into backpacks.
Kids who throw food at each other in the lunchroom while they sip on juice boxes.
Kids who sing in the choir, learn to play the violin, and take gymnastics or ballet or swimming lessons after school.
Kids who shoot baskets in the gym.
Similar Books
Touch the Wind
Janet Dailey
Seduced by a Spy
Andrea Pickens
Cat on the Fence
Tatiana Caldwell
A Fairytale Christmas
Susan Meier
Frightful Fairy Tales
Dame Darcy
Finity's End - a Union-Alliance Novel
C. J. Cherryh
South By Java Head
Alistair MacLean
With This Ring
Amanda Quick