Free Hope Girl by Wendy Dunham Page B

with Dr. Crane tomorrow morning. You’re welcome to come, or you can volunteer as you planned.”
    â€œI’ll volunteer.”
    He gives me a wink.

    When Rosa leaves, everyone goes to bed. Dad’s exhausted from driving all day, so instead of going back to Gram’s house, he’ll sleep on the couch and I’ll sleep in Billy’s room again.
    I sit on Billy’s bed and write in my diary.
    Monday July 11, 1983
    Dear Diary:
    Today started out good (my first day of volunteering) and ended with something not good (my appointment with Dr. Crane).
    At least I found out more about Carlos. And after hearing what he’s been through, my problems don’t seem so big. Rosa said most people have trouble looking beneath his skin … I don’t want to be like them. Today when I saw my X-ray, I saw beneath mine—it wasn’t hard to do.
    Signed,
    River

15

    Secrets
    O n Tuesday morning, Ms. Ruddy’s already bustling around the activity room. “Good morning, River,” she says. “Just as Mondays are bingo days, Tuesdays are paint-by-number days.” She hands me a box of paint-by-number kits to put around the table. Each kit is different. When the residents arrive, they pick the one they like. Gram tries trading for the only unicorn but gets stuck with a polka-dotted mushroom (and she’s not happy about it).
    I walk around the table helping residents open their paints, read the numbers, and clean any spills.
    Next thing I know, Ms. Ruddy pulls me aside. “Maybe you can talk some sense into that Mrs. Nuthatch—she won’t listen to a word I say. She won’t match her paint to the corresponding number, she’s complaining about the polka-dotted mushroom, and now she’s using her paints to give Myrtle a pedicure. I didn’t expect she’d be so difficult (apparently Ms. Ruddy still hasn’t realized that difficult resident, Mrs. Nuthatch, is my grandmother).
    I walk over to Gram. Sure enough, she’s painting Myrtle’s toenails bright yellow number six, the color meant for the mushroom’s polka-dots. “Gram, what are you doing?”
    â€œWhat does it look like, Sugar Pie? I’m giving Myrtle a pedicure. At least it’s therapeutic—a lady needs to feel good about her feet.”
    â€œBut, Gram, that’s not what you’re supposed to be doing.”
    â€œOh, fiddlesticks, Sugar Pie. Painting a polka-dotted mushroom ain’t therapeutic, and I’m not gonna pretend like it is!”
    Just then Dad pokes his head in the room. When Gram sees him she shouts, “Well, if it ain’t Blue Jay.”
    Ms. Ruddy says to Gram, “Is that man a relative?”
    Gram answers, “Why he’s the son I’ve always dreamt of.”
    Then Dad steps in, shakes Ms. Ruddy’s hand, and tells her, “I’m Jay Whippoorwill, River’s father.”
    Well, Ms. Ruddy’s face turns bright red number twelve (and if I’m not mistaken, it looks as if she’d like to crawl under the activities table and hide), but she turns to me and says, “That means… ”
    I finish her sentence, “Mrs. Nuthatch is my grandmother.”
    Ms. Ruddy covers her mouth. “Oh my!”
    Dad says to her, “May I speak with River for a moment?”
    â€œGo right ahead, sir.”
    I step outside the activity room with Dad. “River,” he says, “I just met with Dr. Crane. After weighing the options, I agree with his recommendation.”
    My heart sinks. “But, Dad, look what happened with Gram. Everyone thought she was going to die, but she didn’t. So if we wait to see what happens, I won’t need a brace.”
    Dad takes a deep breath. “I wish it were that simple.” He puts his arm around me. “Dr. Crane arranged a brace fitting for you in fifteen minutes. He’d like you in a brace as soon as possible.”
    I want to scream and yell and punch