Lizzie! by Maxine Kumin

unbelievable, and they said I couldn’t have any painkillers until they found out, and I quote, the extent of the damage .”
    â€œGross,” Josh said.
    â€œYep, and the next day was awful. I had to have all these scans where they make you lie flat and they slide you into a machine like a coffin and then you really do think maybe you’ve died until you come out the other end.”
    â€œSo did you, like, fracture your skull?”
    â€œAbsolutely. I came down on the back of my head. And mashed my spinal cord which is why I’m . . . well, you know.” I drummed on the arms of my chair a few times to sort of ease the tension I could feel building up in the room.
    Then Josh did this incredible thing. He reached over and took hold of my hand and squeezed it.
    I squeezed back and then he let go.
    Then I showed Josh my American Heritage Dictionary . You can find anything you want on the web just as fast but I like turning real pages. I flipped to the d ’s and scanned down to diplegia, which is what he has. It comesfrom the Latin plangere , to strike. Just so you’ll know, it means paralysis of matching parts on both sides of the body. The reason he started school late was because he was having surgery for it. He’s had three operations so far.
    Then Josh told me some of the background to his diplegia.
    â€œI was a preemie. A premature baby, nobody knows why. Mom says I only weighed two and a half pounds when I was born. I had some trouble breathing in the beginning but I outgrew that. They say that a lot of the kids with diplegic CP may have some learning problems but my only problem is learning when to shut up in class.”
    We both laughed at that. “And eventually I’m going to be able to walk almost normally, though right now I’m just fighting off some knee and ankle problems.”
    â€œBut See Pee, what’s that?”
    â€œIt stands for cerebral palsy.”
    I felt stupid not to know that, but Josh didn’t seem to notice.
    He told me about his PT sessions every week and that they were painful because his muscles had shortened and it would take a long time to get them to lengthen and get stronger.
    â€œBoy, can I relate to that! My PTs just about killed me with all their pushing and pulling me. But Mom says they saved my leg muscles and that’s why I need to keep doing these crummy exercises every single day. Even though I’m never going to walk, really walk, it’s important to save every little bit of muscle I’ve got. That’s so I can sit up straight and make all these transfers, in and out of cars, out of this chair and into the ocean. You know. I’m supposed to practice getting up with my quad canes every day too, but sometimes I just don’t . . . have time.”
    â€œYou’re supposed to make time,” Josh said sternly.
    â€œYou too, buddy.”
    And we high-fived each other.

 
    Â 
    CHAPTER 9
    I somehow got through the next few days in a fog. My heart was heavy from carrying around my big secret. And then, one night, Mom and I ended up going out to eat with my honorary grandparents.
    Digger said he loved Thai food and there was a little hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant hardly anybody else knew about in Woodvale. Teresa found it the first week they moved in and they’d been going there about once a week ever since. Lucky for me there weren’t any stairs and nobody acted surprised to see somebody in a wheelchair. The Martinezes were patted and exclaimed over in Thai because they went there so often, and we were given a very warm greeting too. They took away one chair and wheeled me into place with a flourish. Everybody else had beer. I guess it’s sort of a tradition to order Thai beer to go with the spicy food. I got a ginger ale. It came with a section of orange on the rim and a red cherry floating on top of the drink, which made it the most unusual ginger ale I ever drank.
    Teresa and my mom