Free Blindsided by Priscilla Cummings Page B

her eye a new drain. “They need to relieve the pressure, see, so they’re going to make a little slot in my eye—”
    “They’re going to cut your eye?” Meredith’s own eyes grew large. “With a knife ?”
    “Well, yeah, they have to. But it’s not the kind of knife—”
    “Eeeewwwwww!” Meredith put her hands over her face.
    And Natalie took off running. Meredith chased her and, when she finally caught up, grabbed the sleeve of Natalie’s sweater. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. But they never talked about Natalie’s surgeries again. Just as well, Natalie figured, because it was pretty complicated. Back then, Natalie realized, it was a lot easier not knowing everything.

    Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
    “I’ll get it, Mom!” Natalie called out. She’d been cleaning out her purse on the dining-room table, using her lighted magnifier to read and separate receipts. Scooping up the pile of trash, she chucked it into a wastebasket and whisked through the living room to answer the door.
    She was surprised—and happy—to find Meredith standing on the front step in shorts and a tank top, her blond hair twisted up on her head.
    “Hey!” Natalie greeted her.
    Meredith held a tin and, perched on the tin, a brown teddy bear wearing a white turtleneck sweater embroidered with the words
    (Natalie had to hold it close to see): HUGS FOR FREE. “For you, Nat,” she said.
    “Wow,” Natalie said. She gave the bear a welcome squeeze. “He’s so soft!” Then she noticed something red tied to Meredith’s wrist and followed it upward to a heart-shaped balloon that floated over her friend’s head.
    “I didn’t really get a chance to say good-bye last week,” Meredith said. “Remember? We were at that soccer scrimmage? And hey! We really missed you last night. I tried to get you, Nat, but no answer.”
    Natalie hoped that was true. “Yeah,” she said. “The bus broke down.”
    “Yikes. . . . Well, anyway, look, Coralee and Suzanne were going to come, too, but they forgot they had their first driver’s ed class.”
    The news caught Natalie off guard. “Driver’s ed?”
    “Yeah, I don’t know what the big rush is, but they are dying to drive.”
    They had never mentioned it, Natalie thought. Were they being sensitive because they knew Natalie would never get a license? Or was she out of the loop already?
    A slight pause. “Do you want to come in?” Natalie asked.
    “Only for a minute,” Meredith said. She let Natalie close the door, then scrunched up her nose and indicated with her thumb how her dad was waiting outside in the car. “We have to go to my grandmother’s for dinner.”
    The two girls walked into the living room and Meredith touched Natalie’s arm. “So, guess who was asking about you this week?”
    “ Me ? Someone was asking about me ?”
    “Yeah, you ! Jake Handelman! He asked if I’d heard from you.”
    “He’s such a nice boy, isn’t he?” Natalie replied.
    “ Really nice—and cute, too. If only he’d lose about fifty pounds!”
    Natalie grinned.
    The two girls sat side by side on the sofa. Natalie took the bear and held it in her lap. The helium-filled balloon was still tied to Meredith’s wrist and undulated in the air, moving with her hand as she leaned forward to put the tin on the coffee table.
    “You’re really sweet, Meres,” Natalie said. “But it’s not like I’m going away forever.” It was really bothering her, the good-bye stuff, the separation from her friends. She didn’t want to think of it as permanent. “I’ll be back every weekend.”
    “I know,” Meredith said. “But it’s still not the same . . . ’cause you’re not in school with us.”
    Natalie nodded. She couldn’t deny it was the beginning of a major change for both of them. They had been best friends for a long time, ever since second grade when Meredith moved to Hawley from West Virginia. Meredith had crooked teeth then, and on her first day of school, some boys blew spitballs