Free Counting Thyme by Melanie Conklin

couldn’t believe what I was seeing. They had completely lost their minds.
    Then they clasped their hands and bowed, and we clapped, although plenty of other kids laughed, especially the boys. I looked over at Jake’s table. He raised his eyebrows, like he was surprised to see me at Emily’s table, and I nearly died ofembarrassment. I’d only bargained for a lunch, but I’d ended up smack in the middle of a talent show.

    When I got home, Val was in Mom and Dad’s room again. I hoped he was doing better, and that the second day of treatment had been easier than the first.
    â€œHe’s resting,” Mom warned when I turned down the hall.
    â€œCan I just peek at him?”
    She rubbed her temples in small circles. “If you’re very quiet, Thyme.”
    I crept up to my parents’ bedroom door and listened. There was a faint sniffling sound from the other side, so I turned the knob at the speed of a snail until the door swung open. Val was on the bed. But he wasn’t resting. He was crying.
    â€œOh, Val.” I hurried to the bed, but he turned away from me. I understood. I’d be mad, too, if I spent all day being tortured by people who were supposed to be helping me.
    I tried to touch his back, but he wiggled away from me.
    â€œVal.”
    No response. Maybe he had his hearing aids turned down. Or else he was just ignoring me.
    I scooted closer, but he sat up and scurried to the end of the bed, where he had a pile of stuffed animals and model subway cars. The toys were all in a jumble. He grabbed one of the subway cars and rammed it into the side of his favorite stuffed triceratops.
    â€œWhat’s going on over here?” I asked loudly, hoping he’d talk to me.
    â€œThey had an accident,” he said.
    A prickle ran over my scalp. I touched Mom’s chenille blanket, which was draped over two of Val’s stuffed animals. “What happened to these guys?”
    â€œThey died,” he said. Then he crashed the subway car into his dinosaur again.
    I didn’t know what to say, so for a minute, I didn’t say anything at all. Then I realized that Val had stopped playing. He was just staring at the sad pile of lovies, waiting on me.
    â€œI’m sorry, V. I wish this wasn’t happening to you.”
    He finally made eye contact with me. “The medicine hurts. I don’t like it.”
    â€œI thought you said it wasn’t that bad?”
    His eyes watered up. “I lied.” He leaned into me, and I wrapped my arms around him. His back felt bony under my hands, his skin hot from the rash. It had been so long since he’d looked and felt like the Val I knew. It wasn’t fair. He should’ve been running around like every other five-year-old, riding bikes and getting skinned knees.
    I picked up his stuffed triceratops. “How about we fix him up?”
    Val sniffled and wiped at his eyes. Then he nodded.
    Across the room, the door opened. It was Mom. “Thyme?”
    â€œDo we have some gauze?” I asked.
    She rushed to the bedside. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” She cupped Val’s face in her hands, felt his forehead and looked in his eyes.
    â€œWe’re fine,” I said. “We just have a lovie emergency, that’s all.”
    Mom hugged Val. “Don’t do that to me, Thyme. You scared me to death.”
    â€œSorry.” I hated it when she acted like I was making things harder, when I was just trying to help.
    She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “What do you need this gauze for?”
    â€œWe’re fixing Telly!” Val said, pulling the stuffed triceratops out of my arms.
    â€œOkay, but then you have to rest,” Mom said. “I’ll go get the gauze.”
    She left, and Val looked up at me, his blue eyes a little brighter than before.
    I thought about all of those paper slips in the Thyme Jar, and how I was planning to leave him. That