Out of My Mind (10 page)

I’d gotten an eighty-five, but I was so excited that she’d come over to me that I got all mixed up. So I pointed to
5
and then
8
on my board.

She touched my arm, her eyes full of sympathy.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll do better next time.”

And she did this right in front of Molly and Claire and the rest of the class. There was no way I was going to tell her what I really got on the test.

I tried to think of something to say so she’d stay longer.
Pretty
and
shirt
was all I could come up with using my lame board. I sure could use a word choice that said
Cool outfit
, but somehow Mrs. V had overlooked that one.

But Rose beamed. “You look nice today too!”

I really didn’t. I had on a faded blue sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. Mom hardly got me anything else these days. But I
hate
sweat suits. If I could choose, I’d wear blue jeans with sparkly decals, a blouse with decorated buttons, and a vest!

But I had no way to tell Rose that, so I just pointed to
thank you
. Incredibly, she touched my arm one more time, then she went back to her seat and her friends.

Then the bell rang, class was over, and I had to go back to H-5. No more inclusion, no more Rose. And four more hours of school left. Even Catherine left. She had afternoon classes at the university and hurried to get there on time.

Mrs. Shannon was out sick that day, so I sat quietly with Ashley and Maria and Carl and Willy while we watched
The Lion King
—again. I’ve seen it a million
times—I can quote it. Then the substitute teacher gave us a math lesson. Addition—again. When am I ever gonna get to long division?

I wondered what Rose was doing. It was a very long afternoon.

“Penny! Nooooo!” Mrs. V calls out.

Dragging Doodle behind her, Penny has scooted out of Mrs. V’s front door and is halfway down the ramp from her porch, shouting, “Bye-bye!” from under her green baseball cap. Butterscotch, at home in our backyard, would be having a doggie fit if she could see Penny trying to bolt.

It’s one of those early November days that an artist would love. Red-bronze leaves. Bright gold sunlight. Leftover summer. I don’t blame Penny for trying to bolt.

Mrs. V scoops her up and brings her back in the house.

“Goin’ work.” Penny pouts.

“Not today, honey buns,” Mrs. V says firmly as she locks the front door.

Penny loves wearing hats and playing dress-up. Mom rarely buys fancy church-lady hats for herself, but for Penny, she’ll sometimes pick out a crazy-looking straw hat with bows and ribbons and bring it home.

At home Penny spends a crazy amount of time in front of the hall mirror with a couple of Mom’s plastic necklaces hanging down almost to her shoes, a purse on each arm, and a hat tilted sideways on her head. “Gotta go work,” she’ll say, with one hand on her hip.

“Who has she ever seen dressed like that going to work?” Mom asks as we all crack up.

“She’s only two! I’m not going to be able to afford the kid when she’s old enough to go shopping on her own,” Dad always says. He snaps every cute pose she makes with his cell phone camera.

When Mrs. V sets Penny back down, Penny pokes her lips out, throws Doodle on the floor, and wraps both her arms around her chest. I laugh. I wish I had enough coordination to have “attitude”!

“Here, Penny, why don’t you just sit down and draw
me a picture instead,” Mrs. V says, whipping out a box of crayons.

Attitude forgotten, Penny grabs a handful and promptly begins to scribble all over the coloring book, as well as Mrs. V’s table.

I wish I could use crayons. I’d draw a rose, with a velvety red bloom and a green stem and yellow-green leaves coming from it. I can see it so clearly in my mind, but, of course, when I put a pencil or crayon in my stupid-tight little fingers, all I can manage are squiggly lines. Nothing that looks even close to a rose.

I want to draw it for Rose. She has rose designs on her notebooks and book bag. I don’t know where her mother finds such cool stuff. Rose’s name really fits her—she’s pretty and delicate and nice to be around. If she has thorns like real roses do, I’ve never noticed.

While Penny is busy with her crayons, Mrs. V checks her mail. She opens several envelopes, then gasps with surprise. “Guess what, girls?” she exclaims. “I’ve won a contest!”

I look at her with interest. Penny continues to scribble, ignoring both of us.

“I entered an essay contest at the bookstore in the mall,” she explains to me. “The topic was why fish are important in our world ecology.”

I point to
food
on my board and smirk.

“No, silly.” She reaches over and tickles me. “I wrote something about oceans and the balance of nature— I don’t honestly remember what I said—but I won first prize: a trip for six to the new downtown aquarium. All expenses paid. Stupendous!”

I’ve seen the commercials on television for the aquarium—it’s supposed to have sharks and turtles and penguins and a million other sea animals.
Go?
I ask by pointing on my board.

“Well, besides me, I don’t know who else to take,” she says, scratching her head and grinning.

I kick my foot straps loose.
Me! Me!
I want to scream. Instead, I point to myself.

“Hmmm. Who could I take?” Mrs. V teases, looking around the kitchen. I can tell she’s trying hard not to laugh.

Me! Me!
I jab.

“Well, of course I’ll take you, Mello Yello,” Mrs. V says, smiling. “Just think of all the new words we’ll gather. I’m going to write down the names of every single fish for you to learn!”

I slap my head, pretending to be upset.

“So, if I take you and Penny, your mom and dad, and me, that’s five. I wonder who else we could take?” She scrunches up her face, thinking.

I know immediately. Rose could go with us! I spell
out her name.
R-O-S-E
. And again.
R-O-S-E
. Then I hit
Please
.

“Hmmm. Your friend Rose from school?” I buck and kick with excitement. “I think that’s a great idea, Melody. I’ll ask your parents and her parents, and if she’s willing, we’ll have a wonderful day.”

I can’t stop kicking my feet!

It takes several weeks before both Mom and Dad are off work on a Saturday, but Thanksgiving weekend ends up working out for everybody. I have trouble sleeping the night before. Rose’s parents seem really nice from what I could tell from listening to Mom’s end of the conversation. I couldn’t believe Rose wanted to come! She wanted to come with me, the kid in the chair!

At school Rose whispered with me about the trip, just like I’d seen other kids do when they have secrets. I felt like a real girl.

Now that the Saturday is finally here, we all pile into our SUV early in the morning. Even though the weather has turned pretty chilly, I made sure Mom put a really nice outfit on me—cute jeans and no sweats. Rose hasn’t said anything about what I’m wearing, but she keeps cooing over Penny.

“Your sister is adorable, Melody!” Rose says. I smile and nod.

Penny reaches out her chubby little hands and claps. “Wo-sie,” she says.

“I think she said my name!” Rose exclaims. “Your sister is not only cute, she’s a genius!”

As we drive, Rose chatters with my parents and Mrs. V like she’s known them all her life. I watch it all silently, thinking this has to be the best day of my life.

When we get to the aquarium, Dad unloads my chair and eases me into it while Mom gets Penny’s stroller out and straps her in. Rose pushes Penny as Mom pushes me, so we can be side by side.

The place is crowded—I guess because it’s a holiday weekend. Nobody pays any attention to me, which is perfect. I can almost forget who I am.

Inside, fish tanks go from floor to ceiling. I think of Ollie. He might have been happy here. In one tank sharks swim overhead, just like we’re actually looking up from the ocean floor. Okay, so Ollie might not have been so happy in
that
tank.

I’ve never seen so many fish—from all over the world, it seems. Fish with spikes and spots. Fish with markings so beautiful, they look painted.

Penny slaps at the glass whenever a fish comes close. “Fishies! More fishies!” Mrs. V, as promised, writes down names of species and takes pictures so I can remember when we get back home. Mom and Dad
whisper together like teenagers. I’ve never seen them so relaxed.

We stop in front of every tank. I love the jellyfish, which remind me of streams of shiny cloth, and the lion-fish, which really do look a little like swimming lions. At the sea horse tank Rose observes that their heads point backward! She seems to be having a great time.

Then, from around the corner, come the two people I’d least want to run into: Molly and Claire. They are with a Girl Scout troop. They’re fake bumping into each other, not paying much attention to their group leader, who is telling them about the percentage of salt found in ocean water.

Molly and Claire, dressed exactly alike in jeans, long-sleeved T-shirts, and Scout vests, look at Rose with surprise.

“Hey, Rose! You here with your mom?” Claire asks.

“Uh, no,” Rose says evasively, walking away from us and toward them.

“Your dad?” Molly says, looking at me like I smell bad. And she’s acting like my parents are invisible.

“I’m here with Melody and her family,” Rose mumbles.

“On purpose?” Claire shrieks. Both she and Molly start laughing loudly.

“It’s not so bad,” Rose says quietly. But I heard her.

Mom starts to say something to the girls, but Dad
takes her arm. “They’re children,” he tells her. “Let them work it out themselves.”

Mom has those daggers in her eyes—the sharp points she shoots at people who say dumb things about me—but she stays quiet. Her fists are balled.

Mrs. V, however, isn’t going to let anybody stop her. From her almost-six-foot height, she towers over Molly and Claire. “You! Girl with braces on her teeth!” Claire looks up at her, stunned.

“Yes, ma’am?” Claire has sense enough to say.

“Why do you think your parents spent good money getting you braces?”

“Huh?” Claire looks confused. Molly has quietly disappeared into her Scout troop.

“Your teeth were imperfect, so your parents got you braces. One day you’ll thank them when you get a date for the prom,” Mrs. V roars. The whole Scout troop, plus a few other visitors to the aquarium, stop to listen to her.

“What do my teeth have to do with anything?” Claire asks, looking around nervously.

“Some people get braces on their teeth. Some get braces on their legs. For others, braces won’t work, so they need wheelchairs and walkers and such. You’re a lucky girl that you only had messed-up teeth. Remember that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Claire says again. Then she scurries off to join her friends.

Rose walks back to us then, a little embarrassed, I think. “Claire can be clueless,” she whispers to me.

You think?

After a few more tanks Penny gets tired and starts to whine, so we leave the aquarium before we even get to see the penguins. We take Rose home and she thanks us properly and says she had a real good time.

But did she?

The Monday following Thanksgiving break, Catherine and I roll into Miss Gordon’s language arts class a few minutes before the bell. It doesn’t look like I’ll ever find out what Rose really thought about the trip to the aquarium because she clearly has more exciting things on her mind.

Everyone is huddled around her desk.

“Awesome!”

“I love the color—I didn’t know they come in lime green!”

“Oh, man, that’s what’s up!”

“How many songs have you downloaded so far?”

“What’s your new e-mail address?”

“You got IM?”

“Videos! That’s so tight!”

“I wish my mom would get me a laptop like that.”

I roll closer. Rose is showing off a brand-new laptop computer.

“I can get on the Internet and find stuff for school and type up all my homework,” she’s telling the group around her. “I’ve already uploaded pictures of my dog, and I’ve got my own MySpace page!”

I just shake my head as Catherine takes me back to my usual place in the back of the room. A laptop. I’m still pointing to words and phrases that Mrs. V and my mother have taped to a board that’s strapped to my wheelchair, and Rose has the Internet—I guess that means the whole universe—at her fingertips.

I close my eyes, trying not to cry, dreaming of the perfect Melody-made computer. First of all, it would talk! Oh, yes. People would have to tell me to shut up! And it would have room to store
all
my words, not just the most common ones that have gotten pasted on my dumb plastic board.

It would have big keys, so my thumbs could push the right buttons, and it would connect to my wheelchair. It would not have to be lime green.

I open my eyes with a start. Such a thing
has
to exist, right? Or something like it? Maybe?

I grab Catherine’s arm and point to Rose’s computer.
Me too,
I punch on my board. I do it several times.

“You want a computer like Rose’s?” Catherine glances over at Rose’s laptop. “It really is nice. Even I don’t have one as cool as hers.”

No,
I point.

“Wait, you don’t want a computer?” Catherine sounds confused.

I have learned to be patient with people. Once again I point to Rose’s computer and then to the words
me too.
I search all over my communication board, and the words
better, nicer
, and
cooler
just aren’t there. So I point to
good
, then go to the alphabet strip and then jab at the letters
E
and
R. Good-er
. I sound like a doofus.

“Oh!” Catherine says finally. “You want a better computer than Rose’s?”

Yes!
I pound on the board. Then I point to
for
and
me
.