I Want to Show You More (9780802193742) by Quatro Jamie

Author:Quatro, Jamie [Quatro, Jamie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Perseus Book Group
Published: 2013-02-26T22:00:00+00:00

BETTER TO LOSE AN EYE

The envelope Lindsey pulled from the mailbox was an oversized yellow square. It was addressed, in handwritten calligraphy: Lindsey Montgomery (and Parents). Standing in the driveway, the hot gravel biting her bare feet, Lindsey tore it open. The card inside was a giant sun with words printed over its smiling mouth. Lindsey hopped from foot to foot while she read.

Back-to-School Party!

Saturday, August 12, 5–8 P.M.

Madeline Seyler’s house (call for directions)

Wear your swimsuit and bring a towel

RSVP 602-239-7646

Parents welcome to attend!

Lindsey tore the invitation and envelope into tiny squares, then buried the pieces beneath an egg carton in the outside trash can. She went inside and, using the polite language Nona taught her, left a message on the Seylers’ voice mail. Thank you for the kind invitation. We will be unable to attend.

The next day Mrs. Seyler called. When Lindsey answered, she asked to speak to Lindsey’s grandmother. Lindsey brought the phone to Nona.

Nona listened. She said, “No, I hadn’t heard.” She said, “Thank you, we will,” and put the phone down.

She looked at Lindsey. “Why didn’t you tell me about the pool party?”

“I told Mama,” Lindsey lied, looking at her mother, who was asleep in her wheelchair in front of the TV. She was wearing an orange skullcap pulled low over her ears. Lindsey could hear the heavy, low rasp of her breathing.

“Well, we’re going,” Nona said. “All three of us.”

They drove to the party in the new van. Nona liked driving it. She said the van was a smooth ride and it was a blessing never to have to worry about parking. Next to Nona, Lindsey’s mother sat in her wheelchair, which locked into place with clamps built into the van’s floor. She was wearing her red cowboy hat.

In the backseat, Lindsey sat with legs crossed underneath her terry-cloth cover-up. Her stomach felt like it might take off. None of the other kids had seen Mama the way she was now: the swath of scar and hollow dent at the base of her neck, the round bag of urine, the inward sag of her feet in their hot-pink Converse high-tops. Lindsey knew that before the party was over she’d have to say the words tracheotomy and quadriplegic. She’d have to say things like “Nona dresses her,” “It goes into her bladder bag,” “shot in the throat.” And she’d have to say the thing she hated more than anything else to say: “She’ll always be that way.”

Madeline’s house was white stucco with orange tiles on the roof and giant palm trees in pots on either side of the front door. Nona parked the van in the driveway and Lindsey stepped out onto the asphalt.

“Go on in and find Mrs. Seyler,” Nona said, handing her a tray with carrot and celery sticks arranged in a circle. “Make sure she knows we brought this.” Good—now she wouldn’t have to walk into the backyard alongside Mama. Lindsey turned toward the side gate, onto which someone had taped a sign:

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