called making inferences.
On second thought maybe I choose Elsa.
Because of the Beast comment?
Lol. No. I like that she goes off on her own. Lives her best life. You know?
Yeah. But don’t go moving to one of those no wi-fi places.
Where is there no wi-fi?
Green Bank, WV, home to national telescopes.
Interesting.
I’m full of useless info.
Not useless. Cool.
Yeah. Cool. But don’t move. Promise?
Promise.
Ten
I aim to go straight to my room when I get home, but Mom steps in. “What’s the big rush, Jenna?”
“Just want to get a start on my homework.”
“You have a lot?”
“Some.”
“Okay. Since it’s just you and me for dinner, I revoke the ‘no working at the table’ rule.” She plops my computer down in front of me, then moves herself to the recliner nearby, where she’s got a book stashed and a TV tray ready for her soup. Moments like this seem almost perfect to me.
Mom smiles at me like I’m such a good kid, which is funny because really all I’m doing is researching ways to help Julian with The Great Gatsby. So far I’ve pulled up a bunch of summaries online. I’ve bought a few of them, then I’m combining the parts I like. Cut. Paste. Copy. I load them all into a file to send to him tonight. If he texts.
As I’m Googling teaching methods for high school English, I get an email notification from Uncle Steve.
Subject: Baclofen Pump Success Stories.
Subtle, isn’t he?
It won’t hurt to look. So I open the email and read his note.
Just so you’re completely informed.
—Uncle Steve
I open the first one, a video of a girl a little older than I am. College-aged looking. Her story is pretty convincing. She used a wheelchair when she was little. Had some surgeries to stretch tendons. Still had spasms. Tried oral medications. They made her sick. This was her last-ditch effort. Had the pump placed last year and hasn’t looked back. I rub my eyes. Given her experience, I’d have to be nuts not to try this.
So I decide to look for all of the reviews of the procedure. It’s weird—every single thing from books to movies to medications all have good reviews and bad ones, but this pump only has positive reviews. Could that be accurate?
My cell pings, and there’s a new text from Ben.
So? Still floating from your mini flirt fest with Julian today?
I chew on my nail and almost send a question mark, but then I realize he’s talking about when Julian pushed me to our lunch table. To be honest, it’s not like I forgot about that. Or how it felt when he breathed on my neck. Or how casual he was when he leaned against my wheelchair. How he used the we word. I just don’t want to think about how I mucked the whole thing up.
Hello???
That was cute.
Cute???? Sigh. You. Are. Too. Much.
He was just being nice.
So let him be nice some other way.
Bye.
Ok. But I am not done with this.
My cell beeps, but I shift my attention back to another baclofen success story. I’m sure Ben’s final word is super amusing, but I’m drawn in now to YouTube and Brittany, who looks straight at the camera. She discusses how she had to use a wheelchair all through high school, which is way worse than my current situation. Now she’s boasting she’s chair-free and only uses a cane or a walker when she’s tired. I detect a tiny muscle weakness on her right side, mainly around her mouth. Probably no one else picks up on it, but I do, because I’ve been there. I wish I could speak to this Brittany person. Could I? I scroll through the links at the end of the video. There’s her picture with an email address to ask questions. Her email. Should I reach out? Ask to speak with her? If she’s a real person and not just a paid actor…would she want to speak with me?
A feeling of extreme exhaustion sets in, like how your bones ache when it’s too cold. This means my body’s worn out for the day. I’ve spent too much time upright. Seven o’clock is too early to go to bed, but that’s my body. It demands. I listen.
I am a mess of knots and spasms all of a sudden, primarily in my back and legs. The small of my back, as they say, even though I know the actual medical term for it. L3 and L4, which refers to the lumbar region of the back. Disc