Out of My Mind (19 page)

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Molly said, glancing at Claire.

Balloons do pop.

“
You
weren’t up there,” Connor reminded Molly.

“So, you comin’ or not?” Rose asked.

“Sure,”
I tapped.
“It will be fun.”
I glanced at Mom again, who nodded. Dad took Penny home, and Mrs. V gave me a hug and promised she’d see me in the morning.

The air was brisk and the conversation silly as we headed for the restaurant.

“How many windows do you think are in that office building?” Connor shouted, pointing to the tallest one we could see.

“Five thousand two hundred and seventy-four,” Rose answered.

“Man, you’re good!” Rodney said. “How did you know that?”

“How do you think I got on the quiz team?” Rose told him. “I’ve got smarts!”

“She’s just guessing,” Molly told Rodney. “You believe anything.”

The restaurant had been in that location for years. The outside entrance was designed to look like a bistro from a small Italian village. Painted grape leaves and tiny white lights decorated the bricks around the door.

The door.

When Connor’s dad opened it for everyone to enter, Connor and Rodney bounded up the steps.

The steps.

Five stone steps led upstairs to the dining area. Everyone, including Mr. Dimming, rushed past me and Mom. Finally, Connor’s dad, the last to go up, looked at me, looked at the stairs, and the lightbulb came on.

“Uh, do you need some help?” he asked. He was
large, like his son. I bet he could swallow a few bowls of pasta as well.

Mom replied, “Would you be so kind as to ask an employee where their wheelchair ramp is located?”

As if glad to have something to do, Mr. Bates dashed up the steps. Mom and I sat there in the cold. Alone.

A waiter dressed in black rushed down moments later. “I’m so sorry. We have an elevator in the back, but it went on the fritz this afternoon. The technician is coming to fix it first thing in the morning.”

“That’s not going to help us tonight, is it?” Mom told him. Her voice was tight but not angry.

“I’d be glad to help you carry her up the steps,” he offered.

“No,”
I tapped. My eyes begged Mom.

Mom told him, “Just hold the door for us, young man. We’ll be fine.”

He did just that. Mom turned her back to the stairs, got a good grip on my chair, tilted it back slightly, and took a deep breath. I was so glad we had decided on the manual chair this morning.

Mom gently rolled the back wheels up the edge of the first stone step.

Pull. Roll up. Bump. First step.

Pull. Roll up. Bump. Second step.

Pull. Roll up. Bump. Third step.

She paused and took another breath. We’d done this before. Many times.

Pull. Roll up. Bump. Fourth step.

Pull. Roll up. Bump. Fifth step.

Then we finally rolled into the dining room, which was crowded with noisy, laughing customers.

“Over here, Melody!” Mr. Dimming called as he saw us.

Mom led me over to our very large table, and I was relieved to see that the group had left a spot for me. With all the kids on the team plus their parents, we took up a big chunk of the table space in the place.

In some restaurants the tables are too low for my chair, but this time I was able to slide perfectly into place. Mom helped me take off my coat, then sat in the seat next to me. She gulped the water from her glass and asked for a refill.

The waitress began to take orders.

Rodney and his parents ordered a large mushroom and onion pizza. “We’re vegetarians,” Rodney explained. I had no idea.

“Can I get a steak, Dad?” Connor asked.

His dad clapped him on the back. “Sure, I think I’ll have one myself. For this one night, you get anything you want!”

Connor’s eyes got large. “A whole chocolate cake?”

“You’ll barf, boy,” his dad replied.

“I want the pasta delight,” Rose told the waitress. “With extra cheese.”

“Me too!” said Amanda.

“May I have the spaghetti and meatballs, please?” Elena asked.

Claire and Molly both ordered lasagna.

When the waitress got to me and Mom, I was ready.

“I’ll have mac and cheese, please,”
I made Elvira say.

The waitress looked a little surprised, since most of the machine was tucked under the table, but she was cool and acted as if she got orders from Medi-Talkers every day. “Sure, hon. Comin’ right up. You want some salad with that?”

“No, thanks.”

She gave me a real big smile, then took Mom’s order. Only my mom would order baked fish at an Italian restaurant!

As we waited for our food, the cheerful mood continued. Our tables were covered with white paper instead of tablecloths, so everybody, including the adults, had been given crayons and markers.

“Look at this—I drew a giant monster rabbit!” Connor said. He glanced at Rose’s drawing, then added large green teeth to his own. “And it’s gonna eat that wimpy bug you just drew,” he told her.

Rose laughed. “Well, this is a poisonous spider, and it’s gonna bite your silly old rabbit!”

Rodney and Connor then lined up all the salt and pepper shakers and started tossing sugar packets over the barricade with forks and spoons as catapults.

But I noticed that Claire, who was sitting next to Rodney, was strangely quiet and didn’t even pick up a crayon.

“Engage the enemy!” Connor cried. “Score!”

“You weren’t even in my territory, man! Besides, you tossed the pink fake sugar stuff. You only get half a point for that stuff!”

I sat and watched my teammates do such ordinary things. Drawing. Laughing. Teasing. Joking. I really tried hard to look like I was having fun too, but all I wanted to do was go home.

When the waitress finally brought the food, forks became important for eating and the war ended suddenly. Conversation slowed down as everybody dug into their meals. Connor took a huge bite of his steak.

“Mmm, this is the bomb,” he said with his mouth full.

Mom’s fish looked a little, well, fishy, as she picked at it with her fork. She and I were thinking the same thing, I knew.

My food sat untouched in front of me.

Our family goes out to restaurants every once in a
while. Actually, Penny is more of a problem in a restaurant than I am because she’s wiggly and excitable and she’s likely to throw her peas on the floor.

Usually, eating out doesn’t bother me. Mom and Dad take turns spooning food into my mouth, and I ignore anyone who is rude enough to stare.

But this was different. At school I eat in a special area of the cafeteria with the other disabled kids. The aides put bibs on us, feed us, and wipe our mouths when we’re done. With the exception of that sip of Coke at the competition, nobody on the team had ever really seen me eat. Rather, be fed.

I didn’t know what to do. My food sat there getting cold. I looked at Mom. She looked at me. She picked up the spoon and looked at me with the question on her face.

I nodded. Very carefully, she placed a spoonful of pasta in my mouth. I swallowed. I did not spill.

I saw Molly poke Claire, and they exchanged looks.

Mom spooned one more portion into my mouth. I swallowed. I did not spill. We continued, one spoonful at a time.

I was
so
hungry.

Nobody said anything, but I saw them look down at their plates with way too much attention. It got quiet. Even Connor stopped talking.

Finally, even though my plate was still full, I pushed it away.

“Would you like to take this home, Melody?” Mom whispered.

I nodded yes, hugely relieved, and she signaled for the waitress, who also brought dessert menus.

Being reminded of cake and ice cream cheered up Connor, who did not order a whole chocolate cake, but did order two slices. Rodney ordered apple pie, while Rose asked for pudding.

Claire ended up taking her food home in a box as well. She had eaten almost nothing and barely said two words all evening.

“So, what did you think about that final question? That was
too
hard!” Rodney said.

“Piece of cake!” Connor replied, laughing at his own joke. He smeared whipped cream over his second piece of cake.

“Did you see the
hair
on that announcer?” Amanda teased. “It never moved!”

“Must have been made of plastic,” Rose said, laughing.

“What are you wearing to the D.C. competition?” Rose asked Claire.

Claire just shrugged.

“I wonder if we’ll get to visit the White House while
we’re there,” Amanda mused. “That would be awesome.”

“I believe it’s on our agenda for Saturday,” Mr. Dimming replied enthusiastically. “I’m excited about that as well!”

“So, what’s with you and Melody being best friends, Claire?” Elena asked.

Claire didn’t answer, but she rubbed her hand over her forehead. “I don’t feel so good,” she said weakly. “Is it hot in here?” No one had time to answer, for at that moment Claire stood up suddenly, clamped her hand over her mouth, and stumbled from her seat.

“Are you okay?” Mr. Dimming asked.

Before he could finish the question, Claire threw up all over his new shoes.

“Ooh, gross!” Connor said, obviously trying not to laugh.

“Poor thing,” Rose said.

“Whoa, what a stink, man!” Rodney covered his nose.

Claire’s mom rushed her to the bathroom.

Mr. Dimming rushed out as well, I guess to clean off his shoes.

I wondered if Claire felt as embarrassed as I had while Mom was feeding me.

Our little victory celebration was clearly over. Parents
gathered coats and checks and paid their tabs. Claire returned from the restroom looking pale. No one mentioned the incident. We all headed for the steps.

Hmmm,
I thought.
Claire gets sick in the middle of a crowded restaurant, yet I’m the one everybody looks at sideways.

They all had to wait for me and Mom. We took our time.

Push gently. Roll down. Bump. Top step.

Push gently. Roll down. Bump. Next step.

Push gently. Roll down. Bump. Third step.

Five bumps down to the bottom of the steps.

And I was still
so
hungry.

The next morning Mom bounds into my room holding a newspaper. “Good morning, my rock star,” she greets me. “Guess what?”

Rock star? She’s tripping.
I turn to look at her. My face says,
What?

“You’re famous!”

Huh?

She gets me out of bed, straps me into my chair, unplugs the Medi-Talker from the charger, and hooks me up. Then she places the morning paper on top of it.

There I sat plastered on the front page of the newspaper. In color.

“Wow!”
I type.

“The article is all about the team winning the competition, but yours is the only picture they used. Interesting.”

“Why me?”

Mom smiles quickly. “Because you are unique and wonderful and lots more interesting than ordinary fifth graders, I guess,” she says. “The whole article seems to be focused on you.”

“Team kids won’t like that,”
I type.

“I’m sure they’ll be happy for you, sweetheart.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Here, listen to this.”

She reads me the article: “‘Spaulding Street Elementary’s talented academic team of fifth and sixth graders won the local Whiz Kids quiz competition last night by a score of eighty-six to eighty-five. With stunning skill and knowledge, they answered questions far above their grade level to defeat seven other teams.’”

“Makes us sound smart,”
I tap.

“And so you are,” Mom replies.

“Math questions made me sweat.”
I get clammy under the arms just thinking about them.

Mom continues. “Ooh, here’s the part about you.
Listen to this! ‘One outstanding member of the Spaulding team is Melody Brooks, an eleven-year-old who has been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. In spite of her physical challenges, Melody’s quick and capable mental abilities were able to shine as she led her team to victory.’”

“They will hate me,”
I type glumly. Butterscotch, who still sleeps in my room, nuzzles my hand. She always seems to know how I feel, but it doesn’t help this time.

“Oh, don’t exaggerate. I think it’s a lovely article, and your friends should be proud.”

“You don’t get it.”

Mom ignores me and proceeds to get me ready for school. Two blue T-shirts—one to wear and one to pack, just in case. Two pairs of pants. She never picks out jeans. I decide not to argue. I have a feeling it is not going to be a good day.

“What a great photo of you! I’m going to make sure I get extra copies of the paper,” she chatters cheerfully as she tugs on my socks before putting on my sneakers. “I’ve got to make sure everybody at work sees this.”

Dad has finished dressing Penny, so he brings her into my room. When Penny notices my picture in the paper, she drops Doodle and shouts, “Dee-Dee!” She picks up the paper and kisses it.

I bet I won’t get many reactions like that at school today.

Dad leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so proud, I could pop,” he says softly. “I love you, Melody.”

That makes me get all teary. Just once I wish I could hug my little sister or tell my dad I love him too. In real words, not through a machine.

The reaction at school today is just what I expected. Words float out of lips that say nice things to me, but eyes tell the truth. The eyes are cold, as if I had beat the reporter over the head and forced her to print that picture of me.

Even Rose acts distant. “Nice picture of you in the paper, Melody,” she says.

“Thanks. Should have been all of us.”

“I think so too,” Rose replies.

I just sigh.
I can’t do anything right. I don’t want to be all that—I just want to be like everybody else.

When we get to Mr. Dimming’s class, he strides in wearing
another
brand-new suit—there must have been a two-for-one sale—and a brand-new smile. He looks like he might explode with happiness. He carries a stack of the morning newspaper with him.