Free Bringing the Boy Home by N. A. Nelson Page B

mean— food , water , sky , river —those words I understand you being able to recall,but… roach ?” She stands and dusts off her hands. “Wow…”
    â€œYeah, I’m surprised too,” I say, ducking my chin to avoid blinding her with my light. How did that just happen? Are things truly coming back to me like I’d hoped, or is someone else helping me? And if so…who?
    Disappearing into the darkness of the bathroom to put away my toothbrush, I see something skitter across the floorboards and shine my headlamp toward it. A thin gray tail disappears into a hole behind the toilet—a sumiha— the name of a mouse rests on my tongue. Unbelievable. I smile in the darkness. Not that knowing the name of a roach or a mouse is going to help me with my soche seche tente, but these sudden shots of memory give me the confidence that anything is possible.
    When I return to the other room, it’s empty and I find Sara outside on the porch.
    â€œThe perfect Amazon evening,” she says, leaning over the railing.
    The banging of pots from the camp kitchen harmonizes with the chirping of the crickets as we settle into the bamboo chairs on the porch. Like a show-stealing tenor, a howler monkey interrupts by huffing out a territorial warning.
    â€œJust as Juan Diego promised,” I say.
    We sit a little longer in silence until finally Sara starts talking. “There’s something I need to discuss with you, Tirio.”
    Her voice sounds serious and my heart speeds up. “Okay.”
    â€œI was in your room yesterday, and I found something that you probably didn’t want me to see.” She turns toward me, and the beam of her headlamp shines directly into my face.
    I look down, not only to shield my eyes but also to hide my shock at what she just said. The letter. Oh my God, she found the letter I’d left in my backpack.
    â€œI’m not even going to pretend to understand why you’d do this,” she continues. “Not only is it stupid, but it’s dangerous and you could really hurt yourself.” She’s still looking in my direction, and with the light beamed on me, I feel like a prisoner being interrogated.
    â€œYou don’t understand, Sara,” I say quietly. “I have to do this.”
    The howler monkey begins again, and it sounds like a jet engine taking off.
    â€œWhy?” She raises her voice, and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s angry or whether it’s to be heard over him. Either way, she sounds mad. “To prove how tough you are? How macho? That’s just stupid, Tirio. I mean,honestly.” She finally looks away, and her beam lights up the makeshift soccer goal in the center yard.
    Stupid? I feel the anger well up inside me. How dare she say that? “You have no idea what it’s like to be me,” I say.
    â€œYou’re right,” she agrees calmly. “I don’t know what it’s like to have a physical handicap. But I’ll tell you one thing—if I did, and I worked as hard as you have to overcome it, I certainly wouldn’t risk reinjuring myself by hiding the only thing that’s keeping me healthy in an old pair of sneakers in my closet.”
    The howler quiets, and I imagine his expression being as shocked as mine.
    â€œWhat?” I ask.
    â€œI found your orthotic in an old pair of cleats, Tirio.” She sighs. “Stuffed under two other boxes in your closet and looking like it hadn’t been worn for quite a while—I’m just going to take a wild guess and say…since you took them off last season.”
    I let out a short laugh and bury my head in my hands in relief. My orthotic. She hadn’t been talking about the letter, she’d been talking about my orthotic. I keep chuckling.
    â€œI’m glad you can find the humor in the situation, Tirio,” Sara says. “Because I don’t.”
    â€œNo, no, you’re