Finding a Voice by Kim Hood Page B

toward me. After two attempts I stood up and managed to get most of a spoonful of mush into his mouth and then gingerly wiped the rest away with the towel, trying to avoid touching the boy’s arm.
    ‘Good. You’ve got the jig of it,’ Florence said. ‘Ok, Chris. Can I trust you with this young girl?’
    I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment – more for Chris than for me. I just wanted the aide to leave. I felt I wouldn’t be so self-conscious in feeding Chris. And I wouldn’t have to talk in this sickly sweet way that felt so … wrong.
    When the aide left, the boy looked at me with that big smile I had seen in all the photos.
    ‘I don’t know that I’m so good at this,’ I said, half to myself.
    I thought of the alternative – hiding from Sarah and Lisa,feeling sick and mortified.
    ‘I’ll try though.’
    I was silent as I somehow got most of the food into Chris over the next twenty minutes. In that quietness the boy’s limbs gradually slowed down. I gave him the last spoonful and sat down, looking at my watch. Still ten minutes until the end of lunch and there was no sign of anyone coming back.
    ‘So,’ I said. ‘Did Mr Jenkins tell you my name was Jo?’
    I remembered that he had. Another stupid thing to say – if he even knew what I was saying.
    I looked at the boy. He didn’t smile again, but his eyes were meeting mine.
    I realised that this was the first time I had properly looked at him. I’d spent the whole time concentrating on the job of getting food into him, and somehow not seeing him. Mr Jenkins really had to think harder about the photos he used in his pamphlets, because instead of the geeky hair and clothes I’d expected, Chris’s jeans and trainers were both brands everyone wore and his hair was pretty normal too.
    He looked at me again expectantly.
    ‘I’m hiding out here you know.’ It just slipped out. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I mean, you might be expecting someone fun and normal. But I’m a bit of a screw up.’
    I sat for another minute, not sure what I should say in the silence.
    ‘I don’t have any friends. I don’t even know how to have friends. My mom isn’t exactly a role model in normalness. And the worst part is, everyone knows it. She doesn’t care if she’s weird. And I don’t really either, most of the time. But everyone else does, and they’re afraid I’m as weird as her. I thought it would be different this year. I got all the right clothes. I take the bus to school, so nobody needs to know about my mom. But it doesn’t matter.’ For some reason it seemed easy to just keep talking.
    ‘But you know, I guess that’s for the best. I kind of have enough to do at home. See, my mom isn’t just weird. She’s on medications and stuff.’
    I looked over again. The boy was completely quiet – no movement. And his eyes were firmly on mine. Was he listening? I felt like I was truly seeing him now, not just his wheelchair. He had these incredibly deep brown eyes and his stare was intense, like he was listening like nobody had ever listened to me before. It wasn’t exactly like the wheelchair and his body all at weird angles disappeared; I was still pretty uncomfortable with him. But his eyes kind of opened a window to who he was under all of that. Chris, this was Chris.

CHAPTER NINE
    I walked into the hospital lounge with twice the confidence I had the last time. It felt like it was a month since I had been here instead of only a week ago. I wasn’t afraid of this hospital wing anymore. I’d seen stranger over the last week in the special education wing and I was starting to feel comfortable with it.
    It was going to be good to see Mom. I needed to get away from Grandma. In the last week and a half I had been given almost no choice in any aspect of my life. It didn’t feel like a break from the responsibility of watching out for Mom anymore. It was more like being treated like I wasn’t capable of even watching out for myself.
    Instead of feeling like