I’ve been on a high since meeting Jodi. I enjoyed swimming at school yesterday, especially because the water was warmer than last week. Then in the changing rooms I overheard my teacher asking Sheralyn if there was any news about my aide, and I felt pangs of guilt. How can I even be happy for a second when Sarah is still missing? Last night I heard Dad tell Mom that Richard has been released, and I’m relieved about that, though Kate still thinks he did it. She thinks they just didn’t have enough evidence to charge him. Everyone’s so focused on Richard that they’re missing the truth. They’re not thinking about Dan.
Today, Sheralyn’s gone to school. I’m ready for school, but my bus hasn’t shown up. Mom phones and discovers it has broken down.
Finn’s ride came, and luckily Dad was still here so he’s taken Olivia. Mom says she’ll take me to school herself.
She is pushing me out the front door when the phone rings inside. She sighs, pulling me back a little and then pushing me forward. I can’t see her face, of course, but I can tell she’s not sure whether to take the call or not.
She pulls me jerkily back inside, and I hear her footsteps down the hall—running to pick up the phone. “Oh!” Mom sounds like she’s walking toward the front door. There is real surprise in her voice, so much so that I actually wonder for an instant if it is Sarah herself calling.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. We got your letter, of course, but July… It’s so far away…”
Professor Spalding! Why is he phoning?
“Really?” I hear Mom say. “Is he? When would that be?” There’s a long pause. It seems to go on forever. Then finally she says, “Yes, I’m sure that would be fine.” And there’s silence again, but I can hear that she’s taking notes.
A few minutes later, Mom is back, pushing me out the door again.
“Well, it’s good I took that call, Jemma,” she says. “The researcher from Israel who has created the sniffing technology decided at short notice to come to a conference here this week, and Professor Spalding says he wants to meet you.”
What? I can’t believe this. He’s actually here?
“Mr. Katz would like to try his sniffing equipment with you. He wants us to meet him tomorrow!”
* * *
The waiting room at the University Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery is big and busy. Hospitals to me always mean long waits. Mom gets a coffee from the machine, so she is clearly thinking the same.
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high, Jemma,” Mom says quietly. “If this doesn’t work, don’t worry. We’ll keep trying until we find a way. Technology is developing and changing so fast.”
From a look at her face, I can see the hope in her eyes. I heard the high-pitched excitement in her voice after she hung up the phone yesterday. She does believe it; I’m sure she does. But do I? What if I can’t do it, or I can’t master it quickly enough and they decide it won’t work? Will they give me a chance to practice?
Nurses with lists have been calling people, but then I see a man in a suit with dark hair, tanned skin, and a beard come into the waiting room and look around.
He spots me. I see his eyes stop and his bushy eyebrows go up. He walks confidently toward us.
“Jemma Shaw?” he asks, looking at me and then Mom. He has a strong accent and a serious expression. I wish he’d smile. Maybe he doesn’t think this will work either.
Mom stands up quickly and introduces us.
“Alon Katz,” the man says, nodding at each of us and then holding his hand out to Mom. “Please follow me,” he tells us.
He heads off through the double doors and along a corridor, into a small room.
“I am sorry it is a little tight for space in here,” he says as Mom awkwardly parks me between a chair and a desk.
She sits down on the chair beside me and squeezes my hand as Mr. Katz picks up glasses from the desk and puts them on. In front of him is what looks like a thin plastic tube with some pieces sticking out of it.
“This is it,” he tells us. “This is the sniff controller. It is still in the research phase, you understand. We have had success using this equipment with patients suffering paralysis following accidents, even with some who were thought to be in a vegetative state. We have not tried it on someone with cerebral palsy, and my colleague Professor Spalding thought you would be an interesting case for me.”
I can’t see Mom’s face, but I wonder if she is as surprised as I am. I expected some complicated machine or something—not just a plastic tube.
“We attach this with these sensors just inside the nostril,” he explains. “The other end can be attached to whatever a person is trying to control—a computer, a communication device, even the movement of a wheelchair.”
“Really?” says Mom. “It looks so…simple.”
I see what I am sure is a slight smile behind the beard of Mr. Katz.
“First, I will check your ability to control your sniffs,” he says, approaching me. He has the tube in his hand. “This won’t hurt,” he tells me, “but it may feel a little odd at first, having something in your nose. The sensor is tiny, though.”
He leans very close into my face. I can feel his breath, hot against my cheeks. One hand is on my chin, holding my head steady. I wish my head would stop pulling away from him. He might think I’m objecting, but it’s just my body not behaving. I want to try this. I really do.
He stands back. My nose does feel strange—a little tickly. I hope I don’t sneeze the thing out.
“We will attach it to this computer,” says Mr. Katz, fiddling with the other end of the tube. “Now, you see this on the screen? This line here will move when you sniff. Try a small sniff, Jemma—in through your nose.”
Oh, marvelous. I feel so nervous I think I’ve forgotten how to sniff!
“In through your nose,” he repeats gently.
I must. I can do it. He must see I can do it. I sniff. The green line bounces on the screen. I did it! I made that happen. I do it again, even though he hasn’t told me to. I want to see the line move.
“Good…good,” he says slowly. “Now try a bigger sniff.”
I do it—and right away the line soars up the screen.
“There.” He grins, and I think this is the moment he is sure. The little sniffs might have been accidental, but this time he knows it is for real.
“Another big one, please,” he asks. The line soars again.
“Now a small one.”
This is easy. I can do this—I really can. I can make things happen!
I practice this a little more, and then Mr. Katz presses a few keys on the keyboard. The screen with the line disappears. I feel disappointed. I could have kept doing that all day. I was making the line move. I was doing it myself. I don’t want to stop now.
There is something else on the screen.
“On this screen you will see two words,” he tells me. “YES on one side on the green background and NO on the other side on the red.”
He points to the words. I want to say, “I can read. I don’t need you to point,” but I try to stay calm.
“You will see the cursor here is constantly moving from one word to the other, every few seconds? I will ask you a question. You will sniff when the cursor is on the answer you wish to give. Okay? Big sniff when the cursor is where you want it.”
This is my chance to communicate. This is it! What is he going to ask me?
“Do I have a beard?”
What?
It takes me a moment to take his question in. He is very still. So is Mom. I can hear them both breathing. I must stay calm. I can do this. I already know I can.
I wait for the cursor to move. I do a big sniff.
“YES,” says a loud woman’s voice.
I lurch inside. I didn’t expect the computer to actually speak the word. The YES on the green side of screen is flashing too. But it is the voice that I can’t get over.
“Good. Let’s try another one. Is the wall in this room red?”
The cursor is on NO. I am worried it will move to YES before I manage to sniff. I sniff quickly.
“NO,” says the voice.
I am ready for it this time, but I am still enthralled to hear it.
I have a voice.