Roll With It by Jamie Sumner

Author:Jamie Sumner [Sumner, Jamie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Social Themes, Special Needs, family, Multigenerational, Cooking & Food
ISBN: 9781534442559
Google: pRSKDwAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 43730381
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2019-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

Coralee is in A group, so she has a different homeroom. I end up having to say good-bye to her halfway down the hall. She blows me a kiss and straightens my backpack like Mom did.

“Be good, honey-baby-child,” she sings, and walks away backward, right as Rachel puts a hand on my wheel. Her face is powdered so white she looks like a ghost, except for the peach lipstick, which is also on her teeth. I remember Evelyn at church. It must be genetic.

“Ready for your big first day?” She is not a big person and she’s not standing too close or anything, but something about her makes me want to shrink down in my chair like a turtle. She smells like that really strong perfume at the department store—the one they’re always spraying in the air and trying to give away in free samples.

“Thanks. I got it from here.”

“Okay, Lily. Now, if you need me, I’ll be in the front office. And if you need to use the bathroom,” she whispers, “just get a pass from your teacher and come find me.”

Never, never, never, I think as I roll into homeroom.

Homeroom with Mrs. Tilly is crowded. I mentally graph the room and immediately see that the desks are too close together for me to fit through. They are in four rows of five, and bookshelves fill up every single wall.

I start to breathe a little fast and clamp my mouth shut so nobody can tell.

Mrs. Tilly isn’t here yet, but almost every student is. And everyone freezes. I’m wearing jeans and a green sweater, the most basic thing I could find, but suddenly I feel naked.

I don’t know what to do. Normally, I use my wheelchair with my tray on it as my desk, and the teachers leave a blank spot open for me in with all the other desks.

I wheel forward toward the front, near the teacher’s desk, and try to scoot along the far wall. There are backpacks in the way. Everybody pretends not to notice and nobody moves them. So I try to roll back around by the door, but one wheel gets caught on the edge of a rug in the area with a sign that says READING NOOK.

I want to cry.

I will not cry.

Now I’m sweating. Where is the teacher?

People start moving again, getting out books, sending last texts (probably about me), but nobody helps.

I’m reversing out the door when I hear it.

“Ellie! Back here.” Bert is waving from the last row. And then he’s standing and kicking backpacks out of the way like soccer balls, while three girls in front of him shout, “Don’t touch my stuff!”

Once the path is clear, I follow him back with my head down. The bell rings, and Mrs. Tilly walks in ten seconds late in a wave of flowy skirts and scarves. She is, unsurprisingly, also my English teacher.

“Sorry! Sorry! Late, late, late. New Year’s resolution already broken. Well, there’s always next year. Ha, ha!” She pauses, take a big swig of coffee, and then holds her hands out.

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