Twelve Steps to Normal(87)

“Saylor might be right,” Nonnie sighs. “I don’t know if you can teach this old dog new tricks.” She looks at me. “How are you, darlin’? You’re home pretty late.”

“Practice ran long.” I glance around. “Where is everyone?”

“Working or working late.” She strokes Wallis’s fur. “Peach left us a casserole for dinner.”

Wallis flops out his big tongue, his drool dribbling onto the carpet. “Why Wallis?” I hear myself ask. “I mean, out of all the dogs in the shelter, why him? I would want to try and save them all if I could.”

At the mention of his name, Wallis rolls onto his back. Nonnie rubs the coarse fur on his belly. “I know they all need love, but he just seemed like he needed it more. Can’t quite explain it. Those other families gave up on him, you know? I guess I felt like the poor thing needed someone who wouldn’t.”

Wallis thumps his tail on the floor, like he can tell he’s the topic of conversation. I wonder if Nonnie felt that way about her parents before they passed away, like they gave up on her. She mentioned her brother hadn’t, but he’d also passed. I hadn’t thought about it this way until now, but maybe we’re the family she’d been looking for—the one who wouldn’t give up on her even after knowing how much she’d struggled.

I hold out my hand, not even flinching when Wallis gives it a giant lick. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“Nah,” Nonnie says, peering at me from behind her turquoise frames. “He’s lucky to have us.”





THIRTY NINE


MRS. DONALDSON HAS US COMPETING in Radical Races on Tuesday in preparation for our final, which is a nice distraction from Alex. At least it forces me to pay attention. Thanks to Ana, I’m a little more confident each time I’m called up there—even if I only have two Jolly Ranchers on my desk while most of the class has five or six.

I’m staring at the back of Alex’s beautiful curls, trying not to be too wistful as he races against Audrena Jones, when there’s a knock at the door. A moment later, Principal Lawrence sticks her head in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she tells Mrs. Donaldson. Her eyes find mine. “Kira? Can I speak to you for a moment?” She gestures for me to gather my belongings.

I feel the stares of everyone in the class as I grab my things. Every horrible thought crosses through my mind: My dad has relapsed. He’s been taken down to the station again. Cedarville Elementary has fired him for showing up drunk.

Panic rises in my chest. I don’t want to have to call Aunt June about this.

Once we’re out in the hallway, Principal Lawrence shoots me a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry to be the one to bring you this news, but your grandmother is in the hospital.”

I’m hit with a sudden wave of déjà vu. No, that can’t be right. Grams was in the hospital more than two years ago. She must have me confused with another student.

Principal Lawrence must sense my bewilderment. “Your… Nonnie? I assumed it was your grandmother, but—”

My blood freezes. I forget how to breathe.

“What hospital?”

“Merciful Heart,” she says. “We can write you a pass.”

I can’t find the words to form a coherent reply. Instead I turn and head down the hallway, breaking into a run as soon as my feet hit the pavement of the school parking lot.

There’s no way. No way. Nonnie can’t be in the hospital. I mean, I know she’s older—she can’t run around the yard with Wallis like Saylor can—but she’s fine. We talked last night. She was fine.

I miraculously make every green light on the way to the hospital. When I walk through the sliding doors of the emergency room, I’m relieved to see that Peach and Saylor are already here. He looks devastated.

“Your father is on his way,” Peach says, her voice small.

I blink back tears. “What happened?”

“Stroke. One of the volunteers at the shelter called her an ambulance and rode with her here.”

Saylor sits back down. He covers his face with his hands.

I turn back to Peach. Her lips are uncharacteristically nude, removed of her typical magenta lipstick. “What’s going to happen? Is she okay?”

“We’re not sure. She’s… not conscious right now.”

I feel myself nodding. Peach guides me to a chair. She repeats things the doctor has told her. Nonnie experienced an ischemic stroke. One of her blood vessels blocked the flow of blood to her brain. They don’t know the extent of the damage just yet, but her doctor will come by and see us when they have any further updates.

I sit in the chair beside Peach and wait, but it doesn’t feel like I’m here to see Nonnie. I saw her this morning. She was sitting on the kitchen stool while Saylor toasted her Pop-Tart and Peach ranted on about how she couldn’t believe they were eating Pop-Tarts when she brought back fresh bakery items from her shifts.

My dad shows up a half hour later. I wrap my arms around him as Peach tells him everything we know. Then we go back to waiting in silent agony.

An hour goes by. Then two.

When Nonnie’s doctor finds us an hour later, he tells us she’s conscious. My hope deflates as he continues to say that she’s not in the best condition. We can expect to see physical impairments in her face. She’s having trouble speaking and seems to be very confused. He believes seeing familiar faces might help, but he says we shouldn’t overwhelm her. He tells us it’s best to visit two at a time.