*Richelle POV*
I sat in the hospital room, banging my foot against the bed thingie in the doctor's offices that really just feels more like a table.
"Richelle," Mom put her hand on my good knee. "Stop."
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine. Whatever."
"Lose the attitude," Mom said. "Are you ready to see your leg out of the cast?"
I looked at my lap. The truth? I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to accept the fact that I didn't have a leg anymore.
Dr. Woods walked in, smiling. "Hey, Richelle. How are you?"
I shrugged. "Okay, I guess." It's not usually the answer you give people, but what are you supposed to say after you lose a limb?
Dr. Woods nodded. "Understandable. Any pain?"
I lifted a shoulder. "A little, yeah."
"Not bad?" Dr. Woods asked.
I shake my head. "No, nothing unbearable. It gets worse when I get up and walk around."
Dr. Woods nodded. "Alright then. That's expected. Are you ready to get that heavy cast off?"
I nodded.
He pulled out a saw-like thing from a cabinet and cut my cast off, then sawed through the bandages beneath.
And there it was. My leg.
It was a little red at the end and swollen all over. And there was a line of fat, black stitches that run around the bottom of my leg. And it's my leg. I wanted to scream. This all felt like a bad dream. Except it wasn't. Life without a leg was my reality now.
"How much can you bend your leg?" Dr. Woods asked.
I lifted my leg, trying not to look at the big black stitches, and bent my leg as much as possible. It hit maybe a forty-five-degree angle before I stopped of exertion.
"We'll work on that," Dr. Woods said. "She's been doing physical and occupational therapy?"
I nodded.
Dr. Woods nodded. "Good. That'll help. I'll talk to your physical therapist and see if you're ready to try for a prosthetic. You'll probably need to wait a few more weeks though."
Of course. I have to work just to stand on two feet again. And one of them won't even be real.
"And this," Dr. Woods pulled out some sort of contraption from the lower cabinet. He unstrapped all of the straps and smiled at me. "Lift your leg," he told me.
I did as he said and he slid the contraption under my leg.
"Oof," I grunted as I felt the fabric touch my skin. Pain ran up my leg and into my lower back, making my muscles tense and my face scrunched up in pain.
Dr. Woods smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I should've given you a warning." Then he began to strap it around my leg.
I winced as he closed the contraption around my leg, "This will keep your leg protected," Dr. Woods explained. "It's padded, and hard at the end, so if you fall, you won't damage your stump. It's going to keep your leg straight as well to make sure that you don't damage any muscles either. I'd advise you to touch your leg as much as possible when it's out of the brace. It's going to be sensitive to touch, but it needs to be okay to touch before we start shooting for a prosthetic."
I nodded. "Okay, got it."
Dr. Woods smiled at me. "Alrighty then. I think you're good to go."
Mom passed me my crutches, and I scooted to the edge of the table, one crutch under each arm. It had been a full two weeks since my amputation. At least I could get up and walk around.
"We need to find you something to do over the summer," Mom said. "An activity, or something. We need to get you more active now that you're out of the cast."
I sighed. "No. I don't wanna."
"That wasn't a debate, Richelle," Mom said pointedly.
"Might I advise you not to argue with mothers," Dr. Woods whispered in my ear. "Never ended well for me." He raised his volume and addressed my mother. "The hospital has a wonderful volunteer program for teens to help out."
"Oh really?" Mom looked genuinely intrigued.
Oh great.
"Yes," Dr. Woods smiled. He avoided my eyes as he spoke. "They have a wonderful program for teens. She could help out before or after physical therapy, and just head over afterward."
"That sounds amazing," Mom said. "I'll have to look into that."
I resisted the urge to growl. I wanted to sit around all summer. My leg hurt, I started to get tired after about an hour or so of activity, and Mom wanted me to do something during summer?
Mom held the front door of the house open for me as I crutched inside. Using crutches had gotten pretty easy since I'd been on them for months. I was on crutches after the break, and I'd be on crutches for months after amputation. Mom had gotten me forearm crutches, because of how much regular crutches dig into your arms, and if I'm going to be on crutches for more than six months, I want them to be good crutches.
I wasn't all the way through the door before Gabby and Sadie were practically on top of Mom and me.
"Mom, can we use your makeup?" Sadie asked. "Please?"
"Pretty please?" Gabby added.
"Can you do it with us, Richelle?" Sadie asked.
Mom looked at me. "You up for that?"
I sucked in a breath. "I don't know. I'm kind of tired."
"Please?" Gabby begged. "You never hang out with us anymore."
"I'm fourteen," I snarled. "You can't expect me to hang around you all the time."
"We expect you to hang around us a little," Sadie muttered.
"And how often do you hang around Gabby?" I asked, an eyebrow raised.
"More often than you do," Sadie said.
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. I'm done with you." And I walked out.
I love my sisters, but they can be so freaking annoying.
Neither Sadie nor Gabby would talk to me for the rest of the day. We'd done this before. Get mad at each other, and walk around the house acting like the other doesn't exist. I've done it to both of them before when they wouldn't leave me alone. Being the oldest sucks. Before, I wasn't the only oldest child. I was living in Eva's shadow, and let me tell you, Eva was the golden girl of the family. Sadie and Gabby loved her. My parents adored her. Everything she did was perfect. And I... wasn't.
My parents always said they didn't have a favorite twin, when Eva and I asked, but I knew they like Eva better. Which also meant I didn't have to worry about being the center of attention. I didn't have to worry about having to spend time with Sadie and Gabby. I could just sit in my room all day, and have no one question it. That was how it went for the first ten years. When Eva got sick, my parents still paid more attention to her, obviously, but I was starting to get more limelight, being the sister who had to watch her twin die.
I hated it. I didn't want attention. I was fine in the background. And now... now I hate it even more. No one will leave me alone, everybody's constantly asking if I'm okay, Gabby and Sadie want to hang out with me all the time and I'm sick of it.
I'm the sister that's supposed to be the golden girl now. Except I'm not perfect and I'm not my twin sister.
Shasta lay on the floor beside my bed as I strapped my brace around my stump and shrinker.
I didn't think that much of it when Shasta wandered out of my bedroom, at least not until Sadie screamed my name. I sighed, slid my arms into my crutches, and found Shasta with her head in Sadie's room.
"Get your dog!" Sadie yelled. "I'm not dressed!"
"Chill," I said, clapping my hands. Shasta turned to attention. "Shasta, come."
She followed me back to my room, then promptly turned and walked out. Whatever.
Then I heard another scream. This one was so loud and high-pitched it had to be Gabby emitting the sound.
I sighed, grabbed my crutches, and found Shasta in Gabby's room on her bed, panting.
I sighed. "What's the problem?"
"Get her off!" Gabby's voice shot up an octave.
"It's not that big a deal," I muttered, walking out.
Gabby screamed for Mom, who told her the same thing. Siblings were annoying.
I sat next to Bella Harrington in Sunday School. I hadn't been to church in months because of all the chemotherapy and amputation. It felt so good to be back.
Mr. Thomasd, the eighth-grade small group leader, came in first, second a dog and a boy. The dog, a beautiful golden retriever with shaggy fur and attentive brown eyes, had a harness on, marking him as a service dog, specifically, a guide dog.
The boy looked fairly normal. Lots of brown hair and a load of freckles. He wasn't necessarily tall or short, he was...well, he was normal. The only thing that set him off was his eyes. They stared off in random directions. Then everything fell into place. The guide dog, the eyes, the boy was blind.
My first thought, if a little selfish, was at least he can't see my leg. For the time being at least.
"Guys," Miss Breanne, our church's youth minister, said. "Open your Bibles to Leviticus while I help our new student."
She led the boy down to the third row, my row, to the empty seat next to me.
She took his hand and put it on the desk. "This can be your seat. The girl beside it is Richelle. I think you two will get along great." Mrs. Jackson winked at me, sending a message asking me to be friendly to the boy. I guess she thought we'd get along since he's blind and I have one leg.
"Hi," I said. "I'm Richelle."
"No one wants anything to do with a blind kid," Miles said pointedly.
"Maybe I do," I said, trying to keep my tone bright. "It's Miles, right?"
"Yes," the boy grunted.
"Nice to meet you, Miles," I said. "Let me know if I can do anything. Show you around or anything."
"I can do it myself," Miles snapped. "I'm not cripple."
I winced at the comment. Well, unlike him, I was crippled. If the boy was going to be difficult, that was fine.
"Sorry for trying to help," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
As we walked out, papers flew out of Miles' backpack. I started to call his name but stopped as he walked off. I glanced at Bella, who shrugged. She bent down and started to pick them up. "These don't have page numbers."
I rolled my eyes. "Just pick them up. I'll get them back to him sometime."
"You really wanna do that?" Bella asked, standing up. "He doesn't seem... pleasant."
"He's not, but it's fine," I shrugged. I walked out and toward the car, Miles' papers under one arm, my backpack with my bible under my other.
Sitting on my bed, the pages Miles had dropped splayed out in front of me on my bed, I examined them.
Sadie sat on the floor, pages spread out before her as well. She'd offered to help me. We'd pretty much gotten over the fight. Shasta lay next to Sadie because there was no other room for her anywhere else.
"No page numbers," I murmured. "That's good thinking, Miles."
"Is this page one?" Sadie asked, holding up a page.
I took it from her and surveyed it. "Yeah, I think so. Thanks, Sades."
"What are you doing, girls?" Mom asked, standing in the doorway.
"Blind kid at church dropped a bunch of papers out of his backpack," I said. "I'm trying to put them together so I can give them back to him."
"Miles Harris?" Mom sat down on the edge of my bed.
"Yeah, I think he said his name was Miles," I said, searching for page four. I stopped and looked up at Mom. "How did you know?"
"You can give them to him tonight when they come over for dinner," Mom said, her lips twitching.
I narrowed my eyes down to little green dashes. "You didn't."
"They're new to the church, Richelle," Mom said. "We need to be welcoming. You know that."
I dropped my gaze to my legs. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."
"Maybe Miles will end up becoming a friend," Mom said. "You never know."
"I really doubt that," I said. "He's pent up with all this anger. I just don't think-"
"He's been through a lot," Mom said, touching my chin, and making me look up at her. "Like you. Don't give up on him."
I fell silent. I wanted to yell. I wanted to scream that it wasn't fair. But you can't expect anything to be fair, can you? Miles was just so angry about everything. But I let out a breath. "Fine."
"Thank you, Richelle," Mom said, getting up.
I let out a sigh of relief as she left. I took a deep breath, flopped against the pillows behind me, and ran my hands through my hair.
"Richelle?"
I looked up. I had forgotten Sadie was still there. I pursed my lips. "Sorry, Sadie."
Her brow furrowed in concern. "Are you okay?"
I tried to smile a little. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."
I could tell Sadie didn't buy it. She eyed me suspiciously. "Richelle..."
I smiled a little wider. "Seriously, Sadie. "I'm fine."
I could tell Sadie didn't believe me, but I hoped she knew enough to know I wanted to be left alone.
"Okay," Sadie's voice trailed off. "You think you got this?" she motioned to all the papers.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," I assured her.
The moment I couldn't hear Sadie's footsteps, I broke down. I don't know what happened, my mind had just crashed. Flashbacks came and memory after memory came flooding in. I swear I don't have PTSD, memories just come running back at random times.
Eva and I lay in the grass in the backyard, staring at puffy clouds. Eva was just starting to get sick. They had just found her cancer on an MRI.
She had looked over at me. "You know what fair is?"
"Everyone getting the same?" I had replied.
Eva had shaken her head. "No. It's everyone getting exactly what they need in order to succeed. And I would do anything to see you succeed."
What I realized at that moment was that she was right. If everyone was getting the same, nothing would ever be fair. Miles was blind. I was an amputee. How was everyone getting the same when some people are completely able-bodied and have perfect families?
It had been almost an hour when Gabby poked her head into my room. My leg was resting on a pillow without the brace, because it just got tiresome.
"Hey Richelle," Gabby said. "Your friend's here."
"He's not my friend," was my reply.
"Fine," Gabby said. "You're 'whatever' is here."
I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Just have him come back here or something. I'm almost done with this."
A minute or two later Miles stumbled into my room, his book crinkling under his feet.
"You should knock next time," I said. "Please." My teeth were grinding together so hard that I was sure Miles could hear them.
"Please tell me you have my book and please tell me I'm not standing on it right now," Miles said. He lost his guide dog, Conrad's harness, and turned himself in a full circle.
"You dropped it in the parking lot and I saved it for you," I growled, pressing his hand to Conrad's harness. "As for standing on it...yeah, you are. I was trying to get the pages in order for you. What kind of book doesn't have pages?"
"What kind of person steals my book?"
"The same person who tried to return it, but the owner was too busy whining to come to get it!" I barked. I bent down and picked up all the pages and shoved them in Miles' unsuspecting arms. "Here. Take your stupid book. I'm so sorry for trying to help you. I don't know what I was thinking. You're a self-absorbed, little-"
"You don't know what I've been through!" Miles snarled.
"I could say the same to you!" I retorted.
"Your life is perfect," Miles retaliated. "What are you talking about?"
"Barely," I snapped. "I only have one leg and I can't even walk on my own. My twin sister is dead and I'm stuck with a wheelchair and crutches. Perfect. You want to know how? Cancer. The same type my sister died from. Yes, my life is amazing, isn't it?"
"Shut up." Miles turned and walked out.
I stared at the pages for a minute, then grabbed my crutches and limped to the living room because I was tired of caring about Miles. I froze as I heard my name.
"I'm so sorry," Mrs. Harris, Miles' mother said. "I had no idea Richelle was an amputee until Miles told me. "
Be quiet, Mrs. Harris.
"Yeah, but she's so friendly you'd never guess it," Miles said. "She makes me barf with her friendliness."
You don't know anything. Shut up, Miles.
"Friendliness?" Sadie snorted. "She walks around the house all day like she owns the place. And us too."
"She does struggle," Mom said.
Please, Mom, change the subject.
I sighed and walked in. Just as I had expected, all conversation halted abruptly. I dished food out onto my plate and we ate in silence for a while.
At least until Miles pushed back his chair with an ungodly SCRAPE. He stood, Conrad's harness gripped in his hand.
"I'm going outside," he declared for all to hear.
"Richelle, could you show him to the backyard?" Mom asked.
I groaned on the inside and smiled on the outside. "Of course." I pushed myself away from the table and hobbled toward the back door, following Miles, who seemed to know his way around pretty well. Mom and Dad must've given him and his family the grand tour.
He found his way to the backyard and the porch and sat down.
"What did you tell your parents about me?" I asked.
"Why does it matter?" Miles pointed out. "It was only a matter of time. It's not exactly inconspicuous. What's with the cripple thing anyway?"
"It's not a cripple thing," I said sharply. I switched my crutch to one side and slipped my hand in the basket on the table, running my hand over the book's leather cover and the name Richelle Jane Cleveland imprinted on it.
"What are you doing?" Miles asked.
"Nothing," I said, a little too quickly. "You can find your way inside?"
Miles nodded and I turned and headed back inside.
As Miles' Subaru pulled out, Dad slipped his hand into mine.
"He needs you, Richelle."
I looked up at Dad, meeting his gray eyes. "No, he doesn't. I don't want him to anyway."
"He needs love, Richelle," Dad said, "You love."
I shook my head. "I don't think I have that much love."
"You do though," Dad insisted. "Gabby sees it, Sadie sees it, Mom and I see it, Eva saw it. Your love is God's love and His love..."
"Endures forever," I finished. '
"Exactly," Dad said. "I believe you can do so much more in his life than you think. And remember, don't ever let him go, Richelle. Don't ever let him go."