Free Whatever by Ann Walsh

video clip on one of the medical sites. I saw someone jerking all over and drooling when they were having a seizure—is that what I do?”
    I swallowed hard. “Sort of. But it’s not gross.”
    He looked hard at me. “Honestly?”
    â€œUh . . . you thrash around a bit.”
    â€œI always fall down,” he said. “This time I hurt my arm as well as my head, but I didn’t tell anyone about the arm. They were all worried about my bleeding head.” He touched it gently. “Four stitches!”
    â€œWay to go, I guess. Let’s see your arm.”
    â€œWhat’s to see except a bruise? You’re not a doctor, you’re trying to change the subject. Tell me the truth. What do I look like? Do I do funny things with my eyes?”
    â€œSometimes,” I admitted. “But sometimes you just close them.”
    â€œDo I look stupid?”
    â€œNo. Honestly, Andy, it’s more frightening than gross. We all feel helpless; there’s not a lot we can do except wait. The doctors told us to stay calm. Actually, mostly we try to keep Mom calm. You know how she is.”
    Andrew smiled.
    â€œAnd we make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”
    He looked puzzled. “How?”
    â€œWe put something soft under your head and move furniture so you don’t thrash into it. Then you go limp and fall asleep. Sometimes you sleep for a long time. Mom cries and keeps saying—”
    â€œâ€˜Oh, Andrew, oh, Andrew, oh, Andrew?’”
    My turn to grin. “How did you ever guess?”
    He hugged the pillow against him. “I’m not allowed to do anything anymore. I miss soccer.”
    â€œThat’s just until they find the right medication. Then you can do everything you used to.”
    â€œThat’s what the doctor says. But I have to try out a new drug for weeks and then have more tests to see if it’s working. Soccer will be over before I can play. I’m going to miss everything!”
    â€œIt will work out, give it time.”
    â€œI don’t want to give any more time to this stupid disease! It’s not fair. The first medicine the doctor put me on made me so tired I fell asleep at school.”
    â€œI remember that. You fell asleep at the dinner table too, right into your mac and cheese.”
    â€œThis new drug, I feel like I’m shivering inside all the time. My hands shake. I hit the wrong keys on the keyboard, lost half an assignment last week because I hit delete and didn’t realize it.”
    â€œEveryone does that.”
    â€œNot all the time.”
    Mom poked her head into the room. “How’s it going?” she asked cheerfully.
    â€œYou didn’t knock!” I said. “Were you listening?”
    â€œOh, of course not, I would never—”
    Andrew glared at her. “You’re supposed to knock. That’s a family rule.”
    â€œSorry. I wondered if . . .” She stopped, looked from one of us to the other. “If . . .” She stopped again.
    We waited. “If what?” I finally asked.
    â€œIf you’re ready to, uh, eat dinner?”
    â€œWe’ll be down in a minute.”
    She backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
    I pulled the pillow away from Andrew; reluctantly he let go.
    â€œCome on.”
    â€œI don’t want pizza again! We had it twice last week. I’m not hungry.”
    â€œYou know she’ll keep at you until you eat something.”
    â€œDon’t want to.”
    â€œWant to try a cheese biscuit with butter and jam?”
    â€œCheese biscuit?”
    â€œWash your face and come downstairs and I’ll give you one,” I said, hoping fervently that Dad hadn’t eaten all of them. “You’ll like it, I promise.”
    Mom and Dad were waiting for us, the pizza box was on the table, dinner was served. The box looked greasy; I suddenly wasn’t hungry either. Maybe I’d open a can of