When I wake up in the morning, I am instantly aware that I don’t feel feverish. I feel pleasantly cool, and it is such a relief. Dad comes in. I’ve been turned to face the window. He draws the curtains, and I am pleased to see that the color has returned to his face—a nice rosy pinkness.
“Sounds like you had quite a day yesterday,” he says. He eases me into a sitting position with his firm, careful hands and cradles me to keep me upright, his arm around my shoulder, comfortingly.
“Sounds like you did too,” I want to say.
Sarah comes in, and Dad explains that she’ll have two at home today because I’m not well and Olivia is suspended.
“Maybe Olivia could read to Jemma,” he says.
“Do you want to talk about what happened with Dylan?” Sarah asks Olivia as we sit in the living room later. “Your mom says you haven’t told her anything.”
“No, thanks,” says Olivia.
“Why don’t you read to Jemma?” Sarah suggests half-heartedly. She’s been trying, and failing, to keep Olivia occupied all morning.
“No, can I watch something?” says Olivia. “I’m sure Jemma wants to watch something too.”
“Being suspended is meant to be a punishment—not a chance to watch TV all day,” Sarah tells her. “Really, I should have you scrubbing the floors or give you some math homework to do.”
“No, please—not that!” Olivia has a look of horror on her face, and Sarah grins.
So she reads to me. Her school reading book is about a pony with magic powers. She holds it so I can see the words. I can read, but my eyes flicker a lot so it is hard to look at a page of text. My eyes get tired quickly too. Olivia struggles a little with reading, and I doubt she is as good as most nine-year-olds. The book seems babyish for her.
“Terrific, Olivia!” Sarah tells her when she’s finished two tedious chapters. “If you had a magic pony like that, what would you do?”
“I’d ride around the world on him and get him to kick all the bad people with his superhooves—kick them until they’re dead!”
I snort. Sarah’s eyes widen, and I can see she’s trying not to laugh as well. “Oh, Olivia! How would you know who the bad people were?”
“I just would,” Olivia says, closing the book with a snap.
Sarah’s phone beeps.
“Is that Dan?” Olivia asks, boldly trying to see over Sarah’s shoulder as she pulls out the phone.
“Don’t be so nosy!” Sarah gives her a nudge.
“Who is it, then?”
Sarah sighs. “Actually, it’s about a gig I’m going to tomorrow night. Have you heard of Glowlight?”
“You’re going to see a band?” Olivia says. “Cool… Can I come too?”
“No, it’s not for kids,” says Sarah. “I’ll play you some of their songs if you like.”
“Yeah!” Olivia jumps up, tossing the book onto the sofa.
Sarah finds a song, and the intro starts playing out of her phone.
I sing the words to myself inside my head as Sarah and Olivia bop around the living room. I love Glowlight and wish Sarah would play their music more often.
Mom comes in while we’re having lunch. She plops the mail down on the kitchen table and looks briefly through the pile.
“Two for you, Jemma. You’re popular today!”
“Why aren’t there any for me?” Olivia demands. “No one ever writes to me.”
“Most of the mail that comes is very boring, Olivia,” Mom points out. “Jemma’s letters are mainly hospital appointments. This looks like one here.” She tears it open. “Ah, it’s from Professor Spalding.”
I wait impatiently while Mom reads the letter and I try to read her expression.
“Good news and bad news, Jemma,” Mom says. “Mr. Katz, the guy from Israel, would like to meet you when he’s here for a conference—but it’s not until July.”
July is five months away! It feels like forever.
“I’ll read you the other letter later,” she says, tapping it gently.
My head buzzes. That must mean it’s from Jodi, but Mom doesn’t want to read it in front of the others. I can’t wait to hear what Jodi says. But Mom said we should wait to see if I can communicate before we meet. Is she really going to make me wait five months? And then whatever they have planned may not even work anyway…
“So what have you been up to?” Mom asks Olivia as she makes herself a sandwich.
“Sarah turned on her music, and we’ve been dancing for hours,” Olivia tells Mom.
Mom frowns at Sarah and then turns to Olivia. “I’m not sure you should be having so much fun when you’ve been suspended,” she tells her.
“She did read to Jemma,” Sarah says defensively, “and Jemma enjoyed watching her dance.”
Every time I think Sarah and Mom are getting along better, they start snapping at each other again.
“I’ve been to your school this morning,” Mom tells Olivia. “Your teacher has given me some work for you to do, so that should keep you busy this afternoon.”
“Bo-ring!” groans Olivia.
When lunch is over, Mom leaves Sarah to help Olivia with her schoolwork and pushes my wheelchair into the living room. She sits close to me on the sofa and reads me my letter from Jodi.
Jodi sounds so chatty and nice. She tells me how she went out for pizza with her boyfriend and he knocked his drink over and it went all over the pizza so it was a soggy mess! And how her team won their last three field hockey matches and might win the championship. She says Mom sent a photo of me, and she can see our hair is the same color. Again, she is asking to meet me.
“Jemma.” Mom sighs, looking up at me. “I really thought it would be better to wait for you to meet Mr. Katz and try his communication system before you met Jodi. But that means such a long wait for both of you. I’ll talk to your dad, see what he thinks.” My heart is racing. I’m sure Dad will agree. I’m sure both of them know how much this means to me.
All night, I can’t stop thinking about Jodi. Over breakfast I try to figure out if Mom has spoken to Dad yet. And then, when the others have left the room, she finally says, “Jemma, I’ve spoken with Dad, and I’ve had a word with Beth too.”
Beth is my social worker, and she’s always eager to be helpful. I hope she agrees with Mom.
“Beth suggested I talk to Jodi first, so I’ve had a little talk with her on the phone.”
Even though I know it’s ridiculous, I get a twinge of jealousy that Mom got to speak to Jodi first. I wonder what she sounds like.
“I wanted to make sure she understands about you. I don’t want her to put too much pressure on the meeting, for either of you.”
I know that Mom is just being Mom—cautious as usual and wanting to explain everything carefully—but I wish she would hurry up and get to the point! None of this matters to me. Jodi is my sister. I have to meet her… I must.
“But Jodi sounds nice,” says Mom finally. “I think you’ll like her. She insists that she does understand. We’ve arranged for you to meet next weekend—on Sunday.”