It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,11

a gift, but it doesn’t. It’s not about the books. It’s not about the teachers. It’s about me being separated from Ben and everyone else. Almost myself. So close, but not quite there.

In bed, under the covers, my Netflix account loaded, I think about that appointment that’s looming where we’ll go over the results of the tests we just ran. And who knows what kind of plan they will come up with. It’s always the theys that come up with the plans. Mom. Dad. The doctors. Not me. And that’s got to change. I pull up my email. Uncle Steve was there at the beginning. He needs to be here now. For me this time.

I hit the compose button and type:

Uncle Steve,

We need to talk.

Jenna

I hit send, my fingers hesitating only for a second. He knew this was coming. I’d told him during Rosh Hashanah, when we were alone in the living room and Rena was fighting with Mom and Dad about not wanting to miss another day of school, that I wanted his help with a little lawyering. That’s exactly what I called it.

“Whatcha need, niece-y?” he had asked.

“I’ve been doing some research.”

He’d taken a bite of Mom’s famous chocolate torte. “And?”

“Two words: medical emancipation.”

He choked a little on his torte, which would have been comical if all wasn’t so critical. He stared at the door. When we couldn’t hear anyone talking anymore, he said, “That’s a really big step. Are you sure?”

“Maybe,” I’d said.

“Well, tell me when you’re sure and we’ll talk.”

Just then Dad popped in the room. “Talk about what?”

Uncle Steve made some sort of cover story. I was too busy staring straight ahead and not wanting to be seen.

Now, I chew on my knuckle, a habit I know I’ve got to stop, but I worry about what Uncle Steve will say. Am I more nervous that he’ll say yes or he’ll say no?

Uncle Steve texts me back right away.

I’m always here for my favorite niece-y!

Should I tell Rena you said that?

No!

Seriously. I’m ready to talk about the…you know…

If you can’t say it…

I can say it. Medical emancipation. It’s time. You owe me.

I will help you talk with your parents. I am not promising anything else.

You have to use your lawyer voice.

Your dad is not intimidated by that.

See that he is. I’m serious about this.

The law is on your side, Jenna. And so am I. But you should listen to what your parents and the doctors say.

That sounds like an equivocation.

I am at your service. Unless your mom offers me chocolate torte.

I’ll see that she only serves honey cake.

Where’s the gag emoji? Now you’ve made me cry.

I smile and text back.

I’m counting on you.

This is going to be a fun family weekend. Just so it blows over by Hanukkah.

I wanna MaccaBEE in charge of my life!

I am not going to Latke you push me around.

groan

Let’s not make light of what you’re doing.

I’m feeling gelt-y over all of this.

Jew-wish there was another way…but there isn’t.

And that’s how we end the email thread about the most serious campaign I’ve ever waged against my parents.

Five

An unseasonably warm Sunday lands Ben and me on the porch swing, his foot controlling how slow we rock. I’ve got two big pillows propped under me, holding me up. My hand winds around the chain and my legs are in Ben’s lap.

He’s naming the guys he thinks are cute enough for me to date.

“Todd Stein.”

“Not bad. A little SGA for my tastes.”

“I don’t mind the student government part,” Ben says as he stops the swing and dramatically pauses. “Those shorts, though.”

I smack my thigh. “I know. Every time the thermometer goes north of sixty degrees, he’s gotta show his knees off.”

Ben nods. “That boy’s in love with his knees.”

“I don’t have to see it all.” My hands do a flourish. “Leave a little to the imagination!”

He puts his hands up like he’s testifying. “Preach it.”

This is what we do. What we’ve always done. We pick a subject and evaluate it. Like the night we first met at one of the youth group’s sleep-ins. Boys and girls were supposed to be separate, but we hit it off immediately. We bonded over candy choice during the movie, M&M’s, original only. And our opinion of Avatar: The Last Airbender (best animated TV show ever), how disappointing M. Night Shyamalan’s version of it was, and how much we wished we could have a flying bison like Appa.

The wind picks up and I shiver. Ben reaches behind me for the