How I Fall

This book is dedicated to Allison Winn, a big eyed, dark haired, willowy teen who has taught me and so many others that living an amazing life is possible despite who or what knocks you around, and that it doesn’t matter how many times you might fall.

She’s shown us all that life should be about how one person can change the world no matter how small they are. Life should be about how you treat others while you’re down that counts—and mostly— life should be about what is gained in your own soul each time you get back up, again, and again, and again.

How I Fall

by Anne Eliot

Published by Butterfly Books, LLC

Print

ISBN-10: 1937815048

ISBN-13: 978-1-937815-04-2

Ebook ISBN-978-1-937815-05-9

Library Catalog Information

1.__ Teen Romance Fiction 2.__High School Teen with Disability 3.__ Cerebral Palsy 4.__Issue YA 5.__Friendship 6.__Sweet Teen Romance Suitable for All Ages 7.__Hemiparesis 8.__ First Love 9. Young Adult Literature 10. __Football

Summary:  Ellen Foster (16) hides her Cerebral Palsy despite a few accidental falls, but is forced to work on her digital photography project with a guy who is assigned to
keep her safe
—a guy she thinks is cute—but a dumb football jock; only he’s anything but dumb, hates playing football and he’s had a crush on her for years.

9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1

Copyright © 2014 by Anne MacFarlane, writing as Anne Eliot. All rights reserved. All work and characters are fictional and no part of this work should be distributed or copied without the author and publisher’s direct permission . Cover design by PeterFreedman.com. Editing Lana Williams. Photo editing Katja Kulenkampff.

What people are saying...

“How I Fall is a beautifully romantic high school love story and a highly enjoyable read that will capture readers of all ages.”

—
Heather Love King~ @javalotta

“Anne Eliot’s written about a teen facing a huge challenge here
—
hemiparesis with Cerebral Palsy. Only, what I love is how the story is not about the CP, it’s about real, contempoary high school teens learning who they are while growing up and falling in love. The sweet first kiss blew me away.”

—
JT blogger~ @IloveYAfiction

Contents

1. Two Crushes

2. Fate

3. Saving Ireland

4. Group Project

5. After School Activities

6. Brave New World

7. Game Changers

8. Kisses, Butterflies, Bonfires

9. When Everything Goes Right

10. Falling in Love & Frozen Trees

11. Being Patient

-Preview of Book Two-

ellen

I pause at the corner down from the bus stop so I can regain some control. Both legs—the good one and the bad—are quaking dangerously. I’m also breathing like I’ve run a marathon in thick maple syrup instead of simply walking five blocks, but who cares? I’ve just navigated sidewalks covered with snow and ice with no crutches and no cane for the first time in my life. And I did not fall. Not once!

I check my phone to record the time and what I see has me almost gasping out loud.

*Crowd roars. She waves. She bows. She’s got ten minutes to burn!*

Because I have mild Cerebral Palsy, my physical therapist, Nash, would normally get half of the credit here. But it was my idea to pull double workouts all summer and fall. This victory is all mine, but either way, I can’t wait to give him a report. He’s going to be so proud. This will prove to him there is light at the end of my tunnel. The guy is so gloom and doom. He’s always thinking about my future and making predictions based on statistics, while I’m trying to convince him that I can write my own statistics.

Today, I will get to be the one who’s right!

Breath caught up, I straighten my messenger bag and face the bus stop ready for anything and anyone this day might try to throw at me! But two steps into walking the last half block, the calf of my bad leg spikes a surprise cramp.

“Please…no,” I mutter, jerking to a stop as white-lightning fires up my entire leg. The pain’s so harsh I could swear it’s stopped my heart. Scanning for anything that can save me from a public
wobble-wobble-Ellen-falls-down event
, I veer off the sidewalk and head for the cars parked on the street. Luckily, I’ve locked my hand onto a car mirror just as the knee on my bad leg buckles completely. For insurance, I lean most of my upper body weight on the dripping car hood, happy that my lumpy, hand-me-down jacket is at least waterproof. Only then do I pull in a slow steady breath and test—and beg—and pray—for my still trembling good leg to be okay.

It holds steady, but since I’m not allowed any guarantees with how my body behaves, I keep a death grip on the car any way I can. At least my sudden move has turned me away from the kids down at the stop. If I’m lucky, no one will have seen how I almost just hit the pavement. Even better, while I work out the kinks in my calf, I’ll be able to pretend that I’m simply admiring the snow and taking pictures of random stuff with my iPhone like I always do.

“Come on. Please. Come
on
.” I twist my bad ankle in a slow circle while more shards of pain pull my calf even tighter. Elation has disappeared, replaced by lead-heavy frustration. If Nash saw me clinging to this car, he’d launch into a thirty-minute lecture about how I’m supposed to have a cane with me at all times. I’ve been ignoring my promise to him and my mom since the first day of school about the cane, but it’s my life. So far, no harm’s been done, only good because I’m doing so well without it. But still…if he tells on me I’d feel terrible. Mom already works and worries so much.

My phone dings with the ultra-quiet bell tone I’ve set for my best friend, Patrick.

Every morning, from his bus stop on the other side of the golf course, he sends me cheesy inspirational quotes as a way to half-cheer, half-annoy the heck out of me. But he’s too late to do either. If I can’t get a handle on this spastic muscle response, I’ll be forced to drag one leg around like plywood until it recovers. A fact that will make me limp awkwardly in front of everyone. A little show people seem to watch with interest when I’m forced off balance. I hate that my limp will feature how I
still
have CP on the very day I thought I might be able to forget about it for a little while.

I also won’t be able to lift my leg high enough for my foot to gain access to the steps up the bus, so I’ll have to ask the driver to activate the mobility ramp. Something I haven’t needed for two years!

I breathe out a long sigh, forcing my thoughts to calm and my ankle to turn and turn, even though it’s making my eyes water from the effort.

*Vows to cling to this car and limp home before asking to use that hateful, stupid, noisy ramp.*

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

With the cramp still deciding which way it’s going to settle, I pull out my phone and scroll back to the beginning of Patrick’s messages. I shake my head, unable not to crack a smile despite my dark thoughts. He’s outdone himself with this one. It’s a horrible moving .gif that features a kitten with extra big, extra creepy blinking eyes staring at a ferocious hyena. The swirly font reads:
Face Your Fears.

He’s added:
I can’t tell which is scarier. Hyena or kitten? Thoughts?

I read the rest of Patrick’s texts, sent after I did not respond:
Ellen? U there?

I woke up late. Had no clue about the storm.

Stupid snow. I would have come to your stop but no time.

U ok?...

Don’t make me walk over there. Ellen?

ELLEN. Answer.

While I’m reading, more come in:
I’m coming there now and calling an ambulance.

Before he goes insane—and because I know he’s not kidding about the ambulance call—I quickly fire out:
Very funny.

Then a few lies to calm down his crazy:
I’m awesome. Kitten is scarier than hyena. It’s a perfect beautiful day. I was taking photos, sorry it took so long to text back.

He knows that despite the pitfalls winter storms have brought me, I’m happiest when I’m taking photographs of ice and snow. There might not be much to do when fall closes the small lake front beaches all around our small town of  Brights Grove, Ontario, but for me, living on the shores of Lake Huron delivers winters that serve up ice photos like no other place on earth! This storm’s just a taste. In a few weeks, I’ll wake up to find iced trees, iced grass, iced park benches, iced branches and iced everything.

Heaven. And I’ve waited all spring and summer long for them to come back.

I text him a few more lines because Patrick’s hard to convince. I’m also trying to focus on the few positives I have left:
Guess who arrived at this bus stop in record time? Me. I’ve also snapped some awesome shots. Wait till you see.

He replies:
Waiting.

I evade:
Shh. Busy.

If I mention my spazzed leg it will only make him worry. Patrick’s got a geometry test first period he won’t ace if he’s distracted by my daily CP drama. The guy’s already acting extra guilty about how he’s ditched me to be on the Huron High football team this year. The coaches plucked him out of oblivion and made him something called a Varsity defender. Whatever that means. Patrick says it’s some sort of miracle for a kid who didn’t play JV. It’s also made Patrick so happy I can’t complain one bit for the simple reason that it makes me happy when he’s happy.

He and I have been best friends since he was instantly labeled,
too-tall-guy
and wound up at the loser lunch table with me,
the-handicapped-girl
. That was way back when he first moved to town, for grade seven. 

And so, there we sat. Together. Alone. For a really long time.

Our first conversations happened while we were both pretending we didn’t hear the snide comments directed at us. He’d crack into my silences saying stuff like, “You got lime Jell-O? I love Jell-O.” And then he wouldn’t give up until I smiled at him or answered. His real progress with our friendship occurred when I found out his mom is a manager at Tim Hortons, what I consider to be the best donut/coffee/food place ever created. It didn’t take Patrick long to figure out that I have a particular weakness for Timbits. But who doesn’t? They’re these fresh little donut hole pastries. At least twice a week, because his mom is awesome and hooks him up all the time, he’d pull out the cute rectangular, Snack Pack cardboard box all kids love, push it across the table, waggle his brows all funny and say, “Want some?”