shook back her hair. She had a pretty face with clear skin. Her long hair was tucked behind one ear now, and Natalie thought she saw the sparkle of several earrings.
“I’ll tell you what frustrates me,” Gabriella said. “You. All of you. You’re a bunch of freaks, if you ask me! I have no intention of staying here and being part of this . . . group. ”
Her words hurt. Stung, actually. The table went silent again. Even Natalie felt the bite of her insults. She felt sorry for the group—for herself as well, because she was part of the group now, however much she wanted to deny it.
But Natalie would have to admit something else: she understood exactly how Gabriella felt.
MEANINGLESS BUMPS
S low down! You’re going too fast!” Miss Karen warned. “You can’t possibly decipher what you’re feeling!”
Natalie reined in her galloping fingertips and moved them more gently, with exaggerated slowness across the meaningless bumps on paper. But even with intensive, one-on-one attention from Miss Karen, learning Braille seemed hopeless. Why even try? It certainly didn’t help that Natalie was distracted by the recent cell phone call from Meredith: Natty, here’s the plan. We’re all going to the county fair—you, me, Coralee, and Suzanne—Friday night. So call me as soon as you get off the bus on Friday, okay?
Natalie didn’t answer right away because as much as she wanted to be with Meredith and her friends, doing stuff at night was scary now. The glaucoma that had robbed Natalie of her peripheral vision bit by bit over the years had also destroyed the millions of tiny rods in her eyes. With those rods—those tiny photoreceptors—went the ability to see at night. She had confided this in Meredith recently, although she hadn’t exactly told her how frightened she was going out at night. No one knew. But couldn’t Meredith imagine? Didn’t she care?
Natalie: I’m not sure—
Meredith: But you have to! I can’t eat all that funnel cake by myself. And you love the Ferris wheel! Besides, we’re meeting some people there.
Natalie: People? Who?
Meredith (giggling): You’ll see.
Natalie (seriously, and very annoyed because Meredith wasn’t remembering): But I won’t see!
Meredith (sighing): Sorry, Nat. You know I didn’t mean that.
Natalie: Yeah. Then why did you say it?
Pause.
Meredith: Look, I have to go now. . . .
And so Natalie had ruined the phone conversation. She was driving away her own best friend. She slumped and pulled her hands into her lap, so lost in thought she had forgotten she was sitting directly across from her Braille instructor.
Miss Karen sensed Natalie’s frustration and must have figured it was the Braille. “Why don’t we take a short break?”
As though on cue, Herky, Miss Karen’s guide dog, noisily rearranged himself beneath the instructor’s desk and stretched out his long legs. His metal dog tags jangled against the wood floor.
“You’re fighting this, Natalie. Why?” Miss Karen asked.
Natalie felt her teeth clench. How could Miss Karen possibly understand how humiliating it was for Natalie to have to learn Braille? Like the cane, it wasn’t even the difficulty of learning it so much as what it represented.
Miss Karen waited for a reply.
“I guess I don’t understand why blind people have to learn Braille at all,” Natalie said, sidestepping the issue. “I mean, there are books on tape and CDs, scanners that read print, and computer programs that talk. In English, a couple kids use a special laptop.”
Miss Karen smiled. “Yes. Their Braille notebooks,” she said. “Indeed, Natalie, there is so much new technology out there. But not everything is available in an audible version. And say you needed to label something—a box of cereal, for example—because how are you going to tell all those cereal boxes in the cupboard apart? Or the directions for a cake mix? Or a tag in your shirt telling you what color it is, or whether it’s striped or
“I’ll tell you what frustrates me,” Gabriella said. “You. All of you. You’re a bunch of freaks, if you ask me! I have no intention of staying here and being part of this . . . group. ”
Her words hurt. Stung, actually. The table went silent again. Even Natalie felt the bite of her insults. She felt sorry for the group—for herself as well, because she was part of the group now, however much she wanted to deny it.
But Natalie would have to admit something else: she understood exactly how Gabriella felt.
MEANINGLESS BUMPS
S low down! You’re going too fast!” Miss Karen warned. “You can’t possibly decipher what you’re feeling!”
Natalie reined in her galloping fingertips and moved them more gently, with exaggerated slowness across the meaningless bumps on paper. But even with intensive, one-on-one attention from Miss Karen, learning Braille seemed hopeless. Why even try? It certainly didn’t help that Natalie was distracted by the recent cell phone call from Meredith: Natty, here’s the plan. We’re all going to the county fair—you, me, Coralee, and Suzanne—Friday night. So call me as soon as you get off the bus on Friday, okay?
Natalie didn’t answer right away because as much as she wanted to be with Meredith and her friends, doing stuff at night was scary now. The glaucoma that had robbed Natalie of her peripheral vision bit by bit over the years had also destroyed the millions of tiny rods in her eyes. With those rods—those tiny photoreceptors—went the ability to see at night. She had confided this in Meredith recently, although she hadn’t exactly told her how frightened she was going out at night. No one knew. But couldn’t Meredith imagine? Didn’t she care?
Natalie: I’m not sure—
Meredith: But you have to! I can’t eat all that funnel cake by myself. And you love the Ferris wheel! Besides, we’re meeting some people there.
Natalie: People? Who?
Meredith (giggling): You’ll see.
Natalie (seriously, and very annoyed because Meredith wasn’t remembering): But I won’t see!
Meredith (sighing): Sorry, Nat. You know I didn’t mean that.
Natalie: Yeah. Then why did you say it?
Pause.
Meredith: Look, I have to go now. . . .
And so Natalie had ruined the phone conversation. She was driving away her own best friend. She slumped and pulled her hands into her lap, so lost in thought she had forgotten she was sitting directly across from her Braille instructor.
Miss Karen sensed Natalie’s frustration and must have figured it was the Braille. “Why don’t we take a short break?”
As though on cue, Herky, Miss Karen’s guide dog, noisily rearranged himself beneath the instructor’s desk and stretched out his long legs. His metal dog tags jangled against the wood floor.
“You’re fighting this, Natalie. Why?” Miss Karen asked.
Natalie felt her teeth clench. How could Miss Karen possibly understand how humiliating it was for Natalie to have to learn Braille? Like the cane, it wasn’t even the difficulty of learning it so much as what it represented.
Miss Karen waited for a reply.
“I guess I don’t understand why blind people have to learn Braille at all,” Natalie said, sidestepping the issue. “I mean, there are books on tape and CDs, scanners that read print, and computer programs that talk. In English, a couple kids use a special laptop.”
Miss Karen smiled. “Yes. Their Braille notebooks,” she said. “Indeed, Natalie, there is so much new technology out there. But not everything is available in an audible version. And say you needed to label something—a box of cereal, for example—because how are you going to tell all those cereal boxes in the cupboard apart? Or the directions for a cake mix? Or a tag in your shirt telling you what color it is, or whether it’s striped or
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