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Sarah hated it when she had to help her brother! Oh, it wasn't that she really hated, hated it, but it was annoying to have to constantly stop whatever she was doing to run to his aid. Troy was ‘different’. He was born different, he was different when he was a toddler, and he was still different, now that he was 9. She sometimes wished that he was the oldest, and that she was different. It would be nice to have everyone worried about her, for a change. It was always, ‘Sarah, help Troy with his shoes’, or ‘Sarah, take Troy outside and ride him around the yard’, or ‘Sarah, would you please help me bathe Troy’. Just once, she'd like to hear them tell Troy to do something for her. Even if they did, all he'd do is sit there and look up at them with that idiotic grin and continue to rock back and forth, which he did for about 18 hours a day or so. Troy couldn't help it, but it wasn't her fault!
Dear Diary was full of entries addressing the subject, and she would just die if anyone ever read them, but her father had told her to always tell the truth. So why did it make her uneasy when she re-read some of the things she had written? Suddenly, she realized she was starting to resent her brother, even though he couldn't help being the way he was, any more than she could help being herself.
Sitting on her bed, it was easy to feel sorry for herself. Her bedroom walls were a record of her life. There were the pictures of the trip to Disneyworld, the big Limpbiskit poster Jennie had given her for Christmas, her baby booties that Gram had saved, and, of course, the snapshot of Sean in his wrestling sweats. Sarah was almost fourteen now, practically grown. Soon, high school would beckon her, then college, then medical school (she was going to be a doctor, you know), then whatever came after medical school. Of course, she'd definitely marry Sean (who was also a doctor), they'd have 2 perfect kids (neither of whom would be like Troy), buy a four-bedroom house in the suburbs and live happily ever after. Game, set, and match… it was practically a done deal.
Now, all she had to do was find a way to get her parents to let her go out on a date. They had the ‘No Dating Until You're 16!’ rule. Wasn't it obvious that she and Sean were madly in love? Why couldn't they see it in his eyes the way she did? Sometimes she wondered how Mother and Dad had ever gotten together, given their outlook on dating. Gram and Gramps hadn't been as strict as they are, certainly. Gram always told stories about how Mother had gone here or gone there with him or with him, and she was sure that she never even had curfews, or if she did, they weren't any earlier than 2 a.m. If only they understood how hard it is to be a kid these days... Well, it was certain that she couldn't solve it tonight, so Sarah calmly walked over towards the door, hollered good night to the rest of the house, turned off the light and crawled under the covers. Sarah didn't pray much anymore, but tonight she crossed herself silently, the way she'd been taught, and asked God to help her.
***
Breakfast was pretty much the same thing each morning, the assortment of cereal boxes sitting in the middle of the table, a plate of toast (preferably not too brown), a carton of milk, and Troy. For some reason, it was too easy for him to just sit in a chair like everyone else, he had to crawl up on the surface of the table and sit there and rock while someone tried to hit his mouth with a spoon of whatever happened to be available. Usually it was Mother who was piloting the spoon-plane, but Sarah had gotten to do the honors on many occasions, too. Today was one of those occasions. "Here, Troy, please...Troy, honey, pay attention... stop mov-... EEEEE !!!
Without pomp or ceremony, the bowl and its contents became an integral part of Sarah's blouse. Troy, who was totally oblivious to the events, continued his performance, never missing a beat. Sarah took a deep breath, shook her hands to remove a little of the excess milk, exhaled, and ran for a towel. As she started cleaning up the mess, she noticed a very strange thing. Troy was crawling down from the table, and looking up at her. She had never seen him make eye contact with her for more than an instant! But now, he was looking up at her, and he wasn't grinning! He even cocked his head a little, as if he were trying to understand what he was seeing. "Mother, come in here, quick!" It scared Sarah a little, to see her brother seemingly acting in a manner foreign to his normal routine. As her mother came running into the kitchen, she said, "Sarah, what's wrong?"
"It's Troy, he's not rocking!" she announced, her finger pointed at her brother. Instantly, their mother kneeled beside Troy, his brown eyes ablaze with wonder. "Troy, honey, can you say something?"
Troy said nothing, and within a few minutes, started his rocking again, apparently content with everything he surveyed, but both Sarah and her mother knew that something remarkable had happened. Mother cautioned her about what she’d seen, asking her not to get too excited about what might happen in the future. As they drove up to the school, Sarah kissed Troy on the cheek, and stood on the curb and watched her mother pull away. It had been a long time since she had seen her mother as excited as she was this morning. Sarah smiled at the thought. This was a good thing.
Chapter 2
Lord, how she hated world history! Who cared why King Henry the Eighth did what he did? She wasn't French, she didn't know anyone who WAS French, and even if she did, they probably wouldn't care either, so what's the point? Plus, Sean wasn't in this class, so it was boring for other reasons, too. Thoughts of Troy kept coming back into her mind, and it bothered her a little.
It was almost like a dream as she envisioned him reading a book or doing a puzzle, and she knew this just wasn't possible for him. He was autistic, and even the doctors didn't really know why he was like he was. The only thing they really knew is that it wasn't very likely that he would ever change. She knew some of the other kids were making fun of him behind her back, but experience told her that it did no good to make an issue of it. There would always be a certain percentage of people who were just plain mean, and there was very little she could do about it, so why worry, right? If they couldn't accept her for the person she was, then she really didn't want anything to do with them anyway.
Mrs. Casey was incredibly boring this morning. Sarah daydreamed about what her teacher’s life was like away from school. She was so prim and proper, probably one of those ladies who had about three dozen cats and lived in a studio apartment. She envisioned a spotless household, with a bookcase containing all the works of Chaucer, Steinbeck, Shelley, etc., which Mrs. Casey would, in all likelihood, spend all her evenings reading, curled up in a French Provincial chair with six cats in her lap. She giggled to herself, silently wondering if Mr. Casey spent a lot of time working late at the office. Mentally she chastized herself for being catty, then giggled again at the pun. Suddenly, Mrs. Casey was standing over her desk, demanding to know what was so funny.
"Oh, nothing, Mrs. Casey, I was, uh, just wondering whether Marie Antoinette kept cats..." was all she could produce, on the spur of the moment. Mrs. Casey then started into the obligatory admonition to pay attention or suffer the consequences on the mid-term this Friday. Sarah apologized quietly and this seemed to satisfy her inquisitor, who walked back to the front of the room and returned to her lecture, undaunted by the interruption. Sarah exhaled and said a silent prayer of thanks, as she glanced at the clock. Only five more minutes and she would finally get to see Sean in the lunchroom.
Chapter 3
The commons was appropriately named, in Sarah's estimation. Most of the kids were pretty much commoners. Oh, lots of them felt they were pretty special, but Sarah tended to shy away from the more pretentious of them. It wasn't that she consciously tried to avoid them, but it never seemed to be an issue, because they naturally stayed away from her, too. Sarah was comfortable with herself and her appearance, although, like most of her friends, she constantly bemoaned the fact that she wasn't beautiful. Her life would be one of never-ending bliss if she had the Prom Queen package.
As she waited for Sean to meet her, she put her books down on a table and walked around the corner to a drinking fountain. As she leaned over and pressed the button, she heard laughing and giggling from a group of boys who had gathered. Most of them had their backs turned to her, and one boy was sitting in the middle of the circle, rocking back and forth with his tongue hanging out and his arms gyrating at his sides, as the group chanted, "Go, Troy, go Troy, go Troy!!" Anger overcame Sarah as she pushed her way through to see who could be so cruel, and sitting in the circle was none other than Sean.
She stood, tears welling inside her, but she couldn't speak. The words simply wouldn't come. Sean got to his feet and tried to touch her, but she recoiled from him and ran away as fast as she could, gasping for breath. He chased her, trying to talk to her, attempting to apologize. As he caught up to her, she stopped and spun around to face him.
"Sean McCrory, don't ever speak to me again! Don't ever call, don't ever come over, don't ever even think about saying my name ever again! If you do, so help me, God, I'll make your life a Hell on earth!"
Sean couldn't even look up at her, choosing to stare at the ground.
"Do you understand me?" she repeated.
He nodded his head in affirmation and started to speak, but she had already walked off.
Sarah didn't go back to class that day. She took her books to her locker, spoke to no one and walked out the front doors of Cameron Memorial High School. She could feel the light breeze on her face, and it chilled her a little when it hit the wetness on her cheeks. With a defiant swipe, she wiped away the tears, steeled herself against the chill, and realized that she hadn't even taken the time to put on her jacket. It mattered little, all she wanted to do was get away. Her pace was quick and decisive, and soon Sean and the others were a distant memory.
Chapter 4
City Park was an idyllic setting, the sort of place a person could use for brief periods of refuge from the world. Sarah liked the benches overlooking the bronze statue of Rodin's profound masterpiece, The Thinker. On a warmer day, there would most likely have been lovers sitting here, or maybe one of the bag ladies frequenting the park. Today, she didn't have to share the area with anyone except the myriad pigeons. They cooed and talked to her as they landed just out of her reach, as if saying to her, 'Hey, if you'll feed me, I'll sing and dance for you.'
Today, she wished she were a bird. She'd fly away and find someone to take care of her, someone who wasn't mean and hateful, and she'd spend all her time just soaring through the clouds.
Yea, right… with her luck, she'd probably soar over Sean's house, and he'd shoot her out of the sky. The analogy brought her back to reality, and she suddenly realized that she couldn't change anyone but herself. Self-pity wasn't very fulfilling after the first five minutes or so. An entire afternoon of sitting brought her to the realization that by allowing herself to let others upset her, not only had she just blasted the only boy who'd ever paid any attention to her, but now she'd also probably be suspended for ditching school, have to go to work at the diner, and become a bag lady. She grinned as she wondered if she would be able to steal a good grocery cart, one with four good wheels that rolled without thumping.
Chapter 5
The bay window her father had built allowed a direct view into their den. Sarah walked along the side of the house, and through the bay window she could see her mother playing with Troy. She stopped to watch, and she saw the patience and love Mom had for him. It was as if she didn't even care that he was incapable of returning her affection. It was enough for her that Troy was just there. Although Mother’s back was to Sarah, Sarah could see that she was singing and clapping her hands. Then, she saw Mother do something that astonished her. She took Troy's hands, and clapped them together along with hers, then dropped hers away. Troy kept right on clapping!
As Sarah walked in the back door, she could hear the tape of nursery rhymes set to music playing in the background. Now, she could also hear Mother singing to Troy. She peeked around the corner and heard something else, the sounds of Troy's voice. He was trying to sing. It wasn't much more than a grunt, but it was pure opera. Sarah couldn't remember ever seeing him respond like this before, and she also couldn't recall ever seeing her mother cry. She said nothing as she sat down beside her, picked up the beat, and clapped and sang along with the others. Now, she had a reason for the tears streaking her cheeks.
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