“Mom, I can explain what happened,” I mumbled.
“You just focus on getting to the bathroom safely,” she said.
I was relieved when I finally got inside the bathroom and out of Mom’s watchful eye. But when I sat on the toilet, my crutches, which I had propped up against the wall, fell over, and one of them hit me on the head. Now, I have a bruise on my forehead to go with the cast on my foot. Not a great look.
But it wasn’t just the cast and crutches that made the trip home challenging. Sophie literally talked the whole way back about how and when she was going to tell Billy she’s moving back to New York. She made me promise I wouldn’t tell him. “Why would I tell him?” I asked.
“Because you’ve been best friends with him for a long time,” she said.
I wasn’t sure if it was the altitude or the fact that she’d drunk a whole can of apple juice and eaten three bags of mini pretzels, but she wasn’t making a lot of sense. “Why would I want to be the one to tell Billy something he won’t want to hear?”
It was Sophie’s secret to tell. I didn’t mind her talking to me about how she was going to share it. But soon other people would know, and that made it seem that much more real.
As our plane was landing in Mobile, I closed my eyes and thought about the trip. There were some bumps (and not just the ones on the slopes), but all things considered, it was a great trip with my family, and I’m so glad Gaga planned it.
It’s something I’ll never forget.
Skiing in the mountains was probably the complete opposite of snorkeling in the Florida Keys, which was what I did on our family vacation two summers ago, but I loved this just as much. I remember going underwater and thinking that everything was so peaceful and quiet. The mountains were majestic and open, and it made me feel like I was on top of the world. I wouldn’t be able to choose which I liked more.
I think the bottom line is that I like experiencing new things. But as great as it was to go away, I’m glad to be back. I don’t want to sound too much like The Wizard of Oz, but I think Dorothy said it best.
There’s no place like home.
Saturday, March 28, 4:45 p.m.
Talked to Leo
Leo called today to see how I was doing. It was really sweet. “How’s your tibia?” he asked. It made me laugh. No one but him would refer to the actual bone I broke.
“Hard to tell,” I said.
“How’s the rest of you?” He didn’t have to explain what he meant.
When I called from Park City to tell him about my fall on the slopes, I’d also told him that Sophie is moving. “I still can’t believe she’s going,” I said.
“Remember when we talked about patterns?” asked Leo. I couldn’t imagine where he was going with this. “I still don’t see one,” he said. “Gaga’s cancer. Sophie moving. A broken leg. They’re all unrelated incidents.”
“I’m not so sure.” I told him about the fortune I got in the cookie at Happy China and about my horoscope June read in the Atlanta airport on the way to Salt Lake City. “They were both accurate,” I said.
Leo laughed. “I’m a science guy. I definitely don’t believe any of those things happened as a result of a fortune you got or a horoscope you read.”
“Then how do you explain all of those bad things happening at once?” I asked.
“The answer to that is simple,” said Leo. “People get sick. They break bones. Families move. It happens all the time.”
I wasn’t sure it was as simple as Leo thought it was. But I did have another question for him, and I didn’t think he’d have a quick answer for it.
“What explanation do you have that will make me feel better about the fact that I will be turning fifteen in less than a month with a cast on my leg?”
I was sure I had Leo on this one. But in typical fashion, he had a response. “April, I think you’ll look cute in a cast and a birthday hat.”
I love that Leo always knows what to say to make me feel better. Kind of like Gaga.
Thinking about it made me laugh. Who knew the boy I like would turn out to have something in common with my grandmother?
Sunday, March 29, 3:45 p.m.
Trying to read
I was sitting at the kitchen table, quietly reading Us Weekly when Mom sat down with me. “We need to talk about school tomorrow and how you’re going to get around.”
I looked up from my magazine. “That’s the last thing I want to talk about.” Or think about. Going back to school with my leg in a cast sounds awful. “I want to enjoy the last day of spring break thinking about the Kardashians, not about the week ahead,” I told Mom.
Shockingly, she let me do it.
9:02 p.m.
In my room
May and June just came into my room to tell me good-night. “We promise we’ll help you with anything you need while your leg is in a cast,” said May.
“Yeah,” said June. “Your wish will be our command.” She put her hands together, genie-style.
I laughed. “You don’t have to do that,” I said. But I appreciated the offer. And what made me feel even better was that I had a strong feeling it had all been May’s idea. Ever since we got home, she’s made a big effort to be sweet and thoughtful. It’s clear she’s thought about what I said in Park City.
As my sisters hugged me good-night, I thanked them for their offer of help.
Come tomorrow, something tells me I’m going to need all the help I can get.
Monday, March 30, 5:54 p.m.
Home from school
Thankfully
There are pros (at least one) and cons (many) to going to high school on crutches.
Pro: You get a lot of attention and offers of help. I couldn’t believe how nice people were at school today. Maybe it’s because I live in Alabama and it’s just southern hospitality at its finest, but so many people at school were so nice. Kids I barely know offered to carry my backpack between classes. At lunch, Harry and Sophie brought me food. Two football players even offered to carry me, and not just my backpack, across campus. Since I’m not a football, I respectfully declined the offer. But I have to admit I considered it. It was hard work getting around Faraway High on crutches.
Now the cons: Sore underarms, an itchy, swollen foot, and the obvious unattractiveness of being in a cast weren’t even close to the biggest downside. The worst part for me about having a broken tibia is that it means I’m out of dance for the rest of the season!
That’s worse than bad, because the remainder of the season is the most important part. We have the district and regional competition coming up, and then the state competition if we make it, which we always do.
Surprisingly, Ms. Baumann was sympathetic when she heard what happened. I thought she was going to give me a lecture about how I should have been more careful. But she didn’t. She just said accidents happen and gave me the rest of the season off from dancing, but she also made me her assistant. That means I’m supposed to help her organize music, schedules, and costumes.
My official duties started today, and since Ms. Baumann is incredibly organized, there was no additional organization for me to do, which means I sat in a chair during practice and did my homework while the rest of the team danced.
At break, the girls on the team all signed my cast and everyone was sympathetic when I told them the doctor in Park City said I’d be in a cast for at least four weeks.
“I can’t believe we’ve lost one of our best dancers right when we need you most!” said Emily. I wasn’t sure it was true, but it was nice to hear it. Everyone was so sweet . . . except for Brynn. I should have expected it. She didn’t sign my cast. She didn’t say anything to me. Not even an, “I’m sorry you fell and broke a bone.”
Honestly, I think that hurt more than the pain in my tibia.
Wednesday, April 1, 7:05 p.m.
The secret is out
I wondered how Billy was going to take it when Sophie told him she’s moving back to New York, but I don’t have to
wonder anymore. Sophie just came over to tell me how it went when she told him this afternoon after school.
In typical, thoughtful Billy fashion, his first concern was for Sophie and how she’s doing. “He was so sweet,” said Sophie. “He kept saying he hopes I get that this is about the fact that both my parents love me and just want what’s best for me.”
“Did he say he was sad?” I asked.
Sophie laughed. “Actually, he said he was happy.”
“Huh?” I hadn’t expected that reaction.
“He said he was glad he figured out why I was in such a funk before the trip because he was starting to feel self-conscious that it was something he’d done.”
I could relate to that. Still, I knew Billy was kidding when he said he was happy. “You have to love Billy’s sarcasm,” I said.
“I do,” said Sophie. “There are lots of things about Billy I love,” she said. She told me she’s really going to miss him when she leaves but that she’s glad she told him she’s moving. “I feel better now that my secret is out,” she said.
I smiled at her. “You know how the saying goes. The truth shall set you free.”
“Yeah,” said Sophie. I know she feels better. But I can’t say that I do. Now that she’s told Billy, I know word will spread fast.
Billy was right. Sophie’s parents only want what’s best for her, and that means living in New York City where they can both be part of her life. That’s definitely what’s best for her.
I just wish it also felt like what’s best for me.
The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid.
—The Wizard of Oz
Sunday, April 5, 7:45 p.m.
In Dad’s office at the diner
There’s something comforting about sitting at Dad’s desk. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve always liked it. Maybe it’s being surrounded by his papers, all the framed photos he has of May, June, and me, or the large bowl of Tootsie Rolls that he keeps on his desk. Right now I think I like it because there’s an extra chair next to his desk that I have my cast propped on. Whatever it is, it feels good to be sitting here writing, even though what I’m writing about is kind of serious.
Reality is setting in. I can feel it.
Tonight, my whole family came to the diner for dinner. Dad made fried chicken and mashed potatoes. It’s the meal Dad always makes when we come home from summer camp, and it’s one of my favorites.
As I sat and ate, I kept wondering how many more dinners we’ll have like this while Sophie is still in Faraway and Gaga is alive.
But I realized it wouldn’t do any good to dwell on it. It’s kind of what Gaga was talking about when she told me what happened to her. Being mad is one thing. Staying stuck in it is another. For now, Sophie and Gaga are both here, and I still have time to enjoy being with them.
As I was thinking about it, Gaga sat down in the chair beside me and gave me a slice of pecan pie Dad had made for dessert. “Everything OK?” she asked.
“Peachy,” I told her.
Gaga laughed. “I didn’t know kids still used that word.”
“Most don’t,” I told Gaga.
“Do I detect a note of sarcasm?” she asked.
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Why would I be sarcastic?”
Gaga took a sip of coffee. “I can think of a couple of reasons.” She pointed her fork at Sophie who was sitting across the table from me. “Your best friend is leaving town, and your favorite grandmother doesn’t have much time on the clock.”
Gaga’s honesty was darkly humorous. “Gaga, you’re my only grandmother,” I reminded her. Then I frowned. “And what you said isn’t funny.”
Gaga got a serious look on her face. “No,” she said. “It’s not funny—it’s life.” She took a bite of pie and then pushed her plate back. “Have you ever heard the expression carpe diem? It’s Latin for ‘seize the day.’”
“Gaga, I’m not in the mood to hear a lecture.”
But Gaga was in the mood to give one. “April, every day is an opportunity,” she said. “If you don’t make the most of each and every one, good things will pass you by. Happiness. Love. Success. There’s always possibility.”
I finished the last bite of pie on my plate and licked my fork clean. “Did you hear that on one of those sappy movies on TV, or did Aunt Lilly say it?”
I hadn’t meant to be funny, but Gaga laughed. “It happens to be true. If you don’t like how I said it, I’d like to hear you do a better job.”
I knew it was a challenge, and I rose to it. Plus, I kind of had something to say on the topic.
“OK,” I said. “How about this?” I cleared my throat like I was an important speaker. “I’m not happy Sophie is leaving Faraway. I’m also not happy that you’re sick. I hate thinking about the fact that the day will come when you won’t be here. But I know it’s important to stay in the moment. Sophie isn’t leaving until the end of the school year, and you’re still . . .”
I paused. I wasn’t sure what word to use.
“Alive?” Gaga said like she was filling in the blank.
“Yeah,” I said. That was the word. It was just hard for me to verbalize it. “What I mean is that I want to enjoy all the time I have left with both of you.” I pointed to my leg. “Cast or no cast, that’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”
When I finished my soliloquy, I felt oddly self-conscious. I shrugged. “I don’t know if I did a good job saying what I meant.”
To my surprise, Sophie clapped and Gaga put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Then she grinned and wrapped an arm around me. “April, have you considered a career as a professional speaker?”
It made me laugh. “Right now, I’m focused on finishing ninth grade.” I winked at her. “I want to make the most of each and every day. Remember?”
Gaga smiled. Then she surprised me.
She reached into her purse and pulled out the ski cap she’d made for herself and put it on my head. “I want you to have this,” she said. “Think of it as an early birthday present.”
Even though I love presents, this one made me emotional. “Gaga, are you giving me the cap because you know you think you don’t need it anymore?”
Gaga laughed. “God, no!” she said. “That’s not it at all. I just don’t like what it does to my hair. I have no idea why you kids wear these things for fun.” She reached over and put the cap on my head.
“That looks good on you,” said Sophie. She reached across the table, rolled up the edge of Gaga’s cap, and then pulled one side down so it rested on an angle.
“There,” she said like she’d arranged it perfectly on my face. “You look very stylish, and it takes the emphasis off your leg.”
Gaga pulled a powder compact out of her purse and opened it so I could see myself in the little mirror. This might sound corny, but as I looked at Gaga’s multicolored ski cap on my head, I couldn’t help but think that it was a hand-knit version of the rainbow I’d been waiting for.
I pulled it down over my ears and laughed—a deep, full laugh, and it was the first time I’d laughed like that in a while. It felt good. I thought about Leo’s comment that I’ll look cute in a cast and a birthday hat. Maybe just for my birthday, I’ll trade in my ski cap for a birthday hat. Maybe I won’t. I’ll see how I feel that day.
But for now, I’m just taking things one day at a time.
About the Author
LAURIE FRIEDMAN grew up in the Deep South, and, like April Sinclair, was awestruck the first time she saw snow-covered mountains. But that’s not the only thing she and April have in common. She too had a hard time learning to ski, and though she finally figured out how to get down the mountain without too many falls, she decided she prefers spending her time in a warmer climate. Ms. Friedman lives with her family in sunny Miami, just minutes away from the beach. She is the author of the Mostly Miserable Life of April Sinclair series as well as the popular Mallory series and many pi
cture books.
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