B.”
“So how did you hurt your arm?”
“I slipped and fell in some broken glass while cleaning the kitchen. A sharp pain shot from my elbow when my hands hit the floor.”
The truth wrapped in a lie. Everyone buys the lie so they don’t have to face the ugly truth.
“Let’s take a look at the source of your troubles,” he says.
I offer up my arm, wrenching my face in agony and biting my lips together as he tests my range of motion.
“How did you get these cuts?” he asks.
“There was broken glass on the floor.”
“Hm.” He appears to consider the validity of my response as his brow furrows. “I want to get some x-rays.”
He leads me to a big room at the end of the hall. I remain in the doorway as he sets a plastic chair for me next to the long table of the giant x-ray machine.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asks, draping a heavy blue apron over me and one over himself.
I stare at him, dumbfounded.
He laughs, breaking the tension. “I have to ask. It’s a standard question for females. Arm up on the table.” He arranges it the way he wants with the inside of my elbow facing up. “So are you?” He moves the big metal x-ray over the table to my elbow.
“No.”
“That’s what I thought. Don’t move,” he says once the shadow of an X marks my elbow. Mechanical punching, whirring, and clicking fills the room after he steps behind a wall. He returns, putting me through the same process with two more positions.
Dr. B walks me back to the exam room and helps me back up on the table before leaving.
I’m curled up, on the brink of sleep, when the old woman comes in, covering me with a warm blanket. I’m out before she finishes tucking it around me.
“Sara,” a quiet male voice wakes me. “I have your x-rays.”
“Is my mother here yet?” I ask groggy, pushing myself up.
Dr. B frowns. “I’m afraid not.”
She’s too busy for me.
He turns on the light board, sliding the x-rays into it. “It looks like you have a fractured elbow.” He taps his finger on the middle x-ray. “You’ll need to wear a cast for six weeks.
“I need to let your mom know before I put the cast on. Do you know where she is?”
“She dropped me off and went somewhere with my sister. You can try her cell phone or my father. He should be at home.”
He returns after talking to my father and sets my arm in a yellow cast, handing me a prescription when he finishes.
I step outside and position myself on the curb for a long wait.
My parents allow me to spend the night at Arissa’s that night. Arissa, Rose, and Andrew take turns signing my cast. Andrew pops popcorn to snack on while we play card and board games.
My family didn’t offer to sign my cast. Playing cards and board games would never happen in the Parker house. At least, not with me included in them.
“Does it hurt?” Arissa asks once we’ve settled into bed.
“It did before, but the ibuprofen helps.”
“Would you be mad if I said something uncool about your parents?”
No one’s ever said anything bad about my parents to me before, but I can’t imagine disagreeing with anyone’s poor opinion of them. “I don’t think so.”
She rolls to her side, propping her head up on her hand. “I think they’re mean. They make you do everything and Victoria gets spoiled.”
“I think they like her better than me.”
“I like you better than Victoria.”
Tears well up and my throat feels like something is stuck in it. No one’s ever said they like me better than someone else.
I kept to myself because my parents didn’t allow me to make friends. They shut down any attempt to do so, so I stopped trying. I became the quiet one in class. The one no one bothered and the one always picked last for anything.
“Your parents are nice enough when I’m over, but I don’t think they like being nice,” she adds. My parents don’t like people in the house, so she doesn’t come over often. When she does, it’s only long enough to work on homework.
I choke back the tears. “Are there other nice parents like yours?”
“Of course there are.”
“Seriously?” I ask, still believing the Jerichos are an anomaly and all parents are like mine. I want to believe there are more parents like Arissa’s, but it doesn’t seem real. Not when all I’ve known