carefully put me back in my chair and made sure my seat belt was latched correctly. Butterscotch curled up right in front of me, making sure, I guess, that if I slid out again, she’d be there to soften the fall. That dog is amazing.
Mom restarted the video from the beginning, but somehow that yellow brick road had lost some of itsmagic glow. Nobody really gets wishes granted by the Great Oz.
As I watched, I wondered if I were blown to Oz with my dog, what would we ask the wizard for?
Hmmm. Brains? I’ve got plenty.
Courage? Butterscotch is scared of nothing!
A heart? We’ve got lots of heart, me and my pup.
So what would I ask for? I’d like to sing like the Cowardly Lion and dance like the Tin Man. Neither one of them did those things very well, but that would be good enough for me.
CHAPTER 9
When I was eight, things changed.
I think I knew Mom was going to have a baby even before she did. She smelled different, like new soap. Her skin felt softer and warmer.
She picked me up out of bed one morning, then almost let me fall back on the mattress. “Whew!” she said. “You’re getting awfully heavy, Melody. I’m going to have to start lifting weights!” Her forehead had broken out in sweat.
I don’t think I’d gained any weight. It was Mom who was different. She sat down on the chair next to my bedfor a few minutes, then suddenly ran out of the room. I heard her throwing up in the bathroom. She came back a few minutes later, looking pale. Her breath smelled like mouthwash. “I must have eaten something funky,” she mumbled as she got me dressed. But I think she knew even then. I bet she was scared.
When Mom finally figured it out, she sat down with me to break the news. “Melody, I have something wonderful to tell you!”
I did my best to look curious.
“You’re going to have a baby brother or sister real soon.”
I grinned and did my best imitation of surprise and excitement. I reached out and hugged her. Then I patted her stomach and pointed to myself. She knew what I meant.
She looked me right in the eye. “We’re gonna pray that this little one is fat and fine and healthy,” she told me. “You know we love you, Melody—just as you are. But we’re hoping this child doesn’t have to face the challenges that you do.”
Me too.
From then on, she put Dad in charge of lifting me. And although she never talked about it again in front of me, I knew she was worried. She gobbled gigantic green vitamin pills, ate lots of fresh oranges and apples,and she had this habit of touching her bulging belly and mumbling a prayer. I could tell that Dad was scared too, but his worry showed up in funny little ways, like bringing Mom piles of purple irises—her favorite flower—or fixing her gallons of grape Kool-Aid or big plates of grapes. I don’t know what made Mom crave purple stuff.
Instead of watching hours and hours of the Discovery Channel, I found myself in my room staring at an empty TV screen—just thinking in the silence.
I knew that a new baby was really time-consuming. And I also knew I took up a lot of time. How would my parents ever have time for both of us?
Then a really horrible thought popped into my brain. What if they decided to look into Dr. Hugely’s suggestions? I couldn’t make the thought go away.
One Saturday afternoon a few months before the baby was born, I was curled up on our sofa, dozing. Mom had put pillows around me to make sure I didn’t fall off. Butterscotch slept nearby, and Dad’s favorite jazz station played a saxophone snoozer. Mom and Dad sat together on the smaller sofa, talking together quietly. I’m sure they thought I was asleep.
“What if?” Mom said, her voice tight.
“It won’t be. The chances are so small, honey,” Dad replied, but he sounded unsure.
“I couldn’t bear it,” Mom told him.
“You’d find the strength,” he said calmly. “But it’s not going to happen. The odds are—”
“But what if ?” she insisted,
Mom restarted the video from the beginning, but somehow that yellow brick road had lost some of itsmagic glow. Nobody really gets wishes granted by the Great Oz.
As I watched, I wondered if I were blown to Oz with my dog, what would we ask the wizard for?
Hmmm. Brains? I’ve got plenty.
Courage? Butterscotch is scared of nothing!
A heart? We’ve got lots of heart, me and my pup.
So what would I ask for? I’d like to sing like the Cowardly Lion and dance like the Tin Man. Neither one of them did those things very well, but that would be good enough for me.
CHAPTER 9
When I was eight, things changed.
I think I knew Mom was going to have a baby even before she did. She smelled different, like new soap. Her skin felt softer and warmer.
She picked me up out of bed one morning, then almost let me fall back on the mattress. “Whew!” she said. “You’re getting awfully heavy, Melody. I’m going to have to start lifting weights!” Her forehead had broken out in sweat.
I don’t think I’d gained any weight. It was Mom who was different. She sat down on the chair next to my bedfor a few minutes, then suddenly ran out of the room. I heard her throwing up in the bathroom. She came back a few minutes later, looking pale. Her breath smelled like mouthwash. “I must have eaten something funky,” she mumbled as she got me dressed. But I think she knew even then. I bet she was scared.
When Mom finally figured it out, she sat down with me to break the news. “Melody, I have something wonderful to tell you!”
I did my best to look curious.
“You’re going to have a baby brother or sister real soon.”
I grinned and did my best imitation of surprise and excitement. I reached out and hugged her. Then I patted her stomach and pointed to myself. She knew what I meant.
She looked me right in the eye. “We’re gonna pray that this little one is fat and fine and healthy,” she told me. “You know we love you, Melody—just as you are. But we’re hoping this child doesn’t have to face the challenges that you do.”
Me too.
From then on, she put Dad in charge of lifting me. And although she never talked about it again in front of me, I knew she was worried. She gobbled gigantic green vitamin pills, ate lots of fresh oranges and apples,and she had this habit of touching her bulging belly and mumbling a prayer. I could tell that Dad was scared too, but his worry showed up in funny little ways, like bringing Mom piles of purple irises—her favorite flower—or fixing her gallons of grape Kool-Aid or big plates of grapes. I don’t know what made Mom crave purple stuff.
Instead of watching hours and hours of the Discovery Channel, I found myself in my room staring at an empty TV screen—just thinking in the silence.
I knew that a new baby was really time-consuming. And I also knew I took up a lot of time. How would my parents ever have time for both of us?
Then a really horrible thought popped into my brain. What if they decided to look into Dr. Hugely’s suggestions? I couldn’t make the thought go away.
One Saturday afternoon a few months before the baby was born, I was curled up on our sofa, dozing. Mom had put pillows around me to make sure I didn’t fall off. Butterscotch slept nearby, and Dad’s favorite jazz station played a saxophone snoozer. Mom and Dad sat together on the smaller sofa, talking together quietly. I’m sure they thought I was asleep.
“What if?” Mom said, her voice tight.
“It won’t be. The chances are so small, honey,” Dad replied, but he sounded unsure.
“I couldn’t bear it,” Mom told him.
“You’d find the strength,” he said calmly. “But it’s not going to happen. The odds are—”
“But what if ?” she insisted,
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