Finding a Voice by Kim Hood

conspiratorially. Sarah opened her mouth and then shut it without a word.
    And I bolted. I just stood up, my lunch bag hit the ground, and I ran.
    It was a long way home. My school was on the edge of the city about ten kilometres from the suburb we lived in. I could have waited for a city bus. There was a stop not too far from the school, but I just wanted to get away from the awfulness of the day as soon as possible. So instead I just kept running and walking until I came to my road and then I turned off down the little path to the river, the path to safety.
    It was never going to change. I was never going to be known as ‘Jo’ without the attachment of ‘with the crazymother’. I expected this from Lisa. But it hurt a whole lot more to see Sarah gossiping about my mom. I’d let myself hope that she was different.
    I should have been going straight home. I couldn’t help but go to the cabin though. As soon as I opened the creaky, old door I felt better. I looked at my watch and it was only just before two. I could even start a small fire in the old fireplace and have an hour or so feeding sticks to the flames. With any luck I’d be able to show up at home on time and hope that the school hadn’t phoned Grandma.
    I put my hand in my pocket, searching for some paper to start the fire with. There was the pamphlet again. I brought it out and looked at it.
Hi, I’m Chris
.
    I thought about the kids I had met the day before, about how they had all greeted me with big smiles. It was easy with them. It was too hard trying to fit in with kids like Lisa and Sarah. They were never going to let me forget that I couldn’t fit in, would never fit in.
    I decided right then that I would go back to Mr Jenkins and tell him I could start with Chris tomorrow. No more lunches in the main school. And – I was going to beg him to help get my timetable changed so that I had art with Chris instead of science in Block H. There had to be a way. I
never
wanted to see Sarah again.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    T he next morning I was back at the secretary’s desk before the first bell. Luckily she connected me to Mr Jenkins before I lost my nerve. I didn’t realise my hand was shaking until she passed me the phone.
    ‘What can I do for you so early in the morning, Jo?’ he asked.
    ‘I was wondering if I could start coming today for lunch, instead of waiting until Monday.’ I held my breath waiting for the answer.
    ‘Don’t see why not. Anything else?’ He’d made it easier for me to ask the next question.
    I let the breath out, remembering the words I had practised.
    ‘Well, I was kind of wondering if there was a way I could get out of my science class so that I could go to Art with Chris.’ I crossed my fingers that he didn’t ask why.
    He didn’t.
    ‘It might be a puzzle, but this early in the term I’m sure I could pull some strings,’ he said. ‘Chris will be delighted.’
    In all of my thinking about never wanting to see Sarahagain, I had kind of forgotten about Chris. Now, back in the Special Education wing I felt nearly as nervous as I had the first day. What would Chris be like? What if he didn’t like me? I’d kind of committed myself to spending a lot of time with him now.
    Mr Jenkins had met me at the door again and as we walked he told me about Chris.
    ‘Chris can’t talk. We’ve tried a few systems to help him communicate, but nothing seems to work. He can’t walk or control many of his movements. He has muscle spasms and occasionally he has epileptic seizures – we’ll get you trained up to recognise these.’ I wondered if there was anything he
could
do. I wasn’t sure I was prepared for this. The kids I had met before seemed – not as complicated.
    ‘We find that when he’s in the lunch room with everyone he has a lot more difficulty eating, so we’ve been trying having him eat in a quiet room. But even on his own it may take him the whole fifty minutes to eat. We’ll show you how to feed him.’ Was this the