I tapped yes.
“Well, once, when I was like six, a tornado ripped the front porch off our house!”
My eyes went wide, asking for more.
“My parents flipped out because they’d left my new walker on the porch, and bye-bye, walker! It got whirled off to OZ!”
“You ever get it back?”
“Nope. I hope it landed on the porch of some kid who could use it.”
We laughed about silly stuff—online games and downloads, the latest apps, even armpits and toenails, and boogers that get stuck in your nose.
Noah got quiet then. “Yeah, that sucks,” he said. “I hate when I’ve got like personal issues and somebody has to help me.”
I typed, “Me too.”
“But hey, I get to board an airplane before anybody else. Gotta take the perks when I can get ’em!”
I nodded in agreement.
“So, what’s your story?” I tapped out. I wasn’t being nosy—just curious. I watched him carefully, ready to type Never mind if he seemed bothered by the question. But instead he leaned forward, ran a hand along his walker.
“They named me Noah because I was born in the middle of a hurricane,” he explained. “My folks lived in Florida at the time. They barely made it to the hospital, so I was born right outside the emergency room doors!”
“Whoa! That’s a trip!”
“I was like seriously impatient to see a storm, I guess, so I popped out early to check it out!”
I gasped.
“My dad delivered me like he was some kind of professional, or so he tells me. By the time the medical folks had rolled out a gurney, I was already here.”
He paused. “But there were complications. The doctors tried to convince my dad it wasn’t his fault, but I know he still kinda blames himself that I wasn’t breathing when I came out.”
I didn’t interrupt, but wow.
Noah continued, “I ended up with what I call a ‘brain fart.’?” He breathed out in a sort of wistful way. “How about you?”
“I’m not sure if I was born too early or too late,” I told him. I’ve never actually discussed the details of my birth with anybody other than my family and Mrs. V, but for some reason, Noah was so easy to talk to.
Noah bit his lip, then blurted out, “Can I ask you something?”
I nodded.
He looked me straight in the eye. “Do you ever feel annoyed being in that chair twenty-four/seven? I don’t mean to be rude or nosy or whatever, just… using my walker isn’t always a walk in the park, you know?” Then he laughed at himself. “Hey, I surprise myself sometimes! That was pretty deep—I gotta post that one day!”
I didn’t even have to think about the answer to his question! I typed, “It sucks scissors sometimes!”
He nodded. “Yeah, I get it, I really do.”
I returned to Elvira, tapping as fast as my body would let me. Still, at least a minute went by. Finally I hit speak. “I’d give anything for people to see me first, not my chair, and to do more stuff on my own, like hanging out with my best friend… if I had one.”
He looked up at the star-speckled sky. Then he said, “Well, you’ve got one now!” And then he reached out and touched my hand. His fingers felt cool, yet my hand went instantly warm. And I was aware of only one thing. No flickering fire. No lightning bugs. No stars above. Just the touch of three of his fingers on the back of my hand.
I didn’t dare look at him. But I couldn’t not look at him. And so I did. And I smiled.
And that’s when Santiago showed up.
I doubt he noticed, but he just about bumped his chair into Noah’s knees. “Are you Falcons going horseback riding tomorrow?” he asked. Evidently he’d set his volume to the highest level. It was like he was shouting. So that’s what I sound like when I’m on loud. No wonder Mom’s always saying, “Volume control, Melody!”
Noah slowly removed his hand.
“I’m pretty sure it’s on the schedule,” I tapped.
“Dude, I’m ready for tomorrow!” Noah said.
“Me too. I love riding!” Santiago replied. “See ya at the stables, Melody.” And he turned to talk to Jocelyn.
“He’s super nice,” I said to Noah.
“Yeah, I would have been mega bummed if he hadn’t come back to camp this year.”
“So you did have a Balloon Ball advantage!” I teased.
“Guilty!” he laughed.
We talked about school (he loved it), rainy days (he hated them), and NFL football. We both liked the Cowboys. Crazy!
The fire blazed like it had every night since I got here, orange and gold, with an occasional pine-cone flare-up. Despite its heat, I felt a little shivery. Of course, some of that shivering might have been because I was sitting there with a boy who maybe, maybe seemed to like me for no other reason than that I was Melody.
The song that played over and over was “Count on Me.” But then, Cassie also played the funky chicken song several times, so I wasn’t taking messages from music tonight! I told Noah what I was thinking and he burst out laughing.
The fire was nearly out. The moon was playing peekaboo with the clouds, with less and less peeking. I hadn’t even noticed how dark it had gotten. Trinity walked over to where we sat. It was time to go.
“Sorry to interrupt, but horseback riding is tomorrow—gonna need a good night’s sleep.”
Like, uh, seriously? I felt a flare of annoyance, but, actually, she was right.
She stepped away to gather up our stuff.
Noah pulled himself up on his walker and playfully poked my shoulder. “See you tomorrow,” he said.
I sure hope so.
CHAPTER 35
So here I was, a girl sitting there in a wheelchair at a stable. And hulking over me was a six-hundred-foot-tall horse. Okay, maybe six feet. But IT WAS A HORSE! I don’t usually think much about being able to walk or run, but at this very moment, I really needed to spurt, sprint, hustle out of there. Immediately. Like, right this minute.