Page 10

I’m usually extra sleepy after an infusion, and I guess I didn’t sleep enough of it off last night. It feels as if I’ve been launched into an alternate universe as I blink away the confusion.

“I’m awake,” I squeak out. There’s a beautiful sprawling house in front of me. It has a terracotta roof, a red front door, and a million windows. I usually feel like a vampire since light tends to hurt my head, but I can appreciate the beauty of it.

This place looks as if it’s part of old Spanish architecture, yet I can see the modern aspects to it. The house is painted in a yellow-beige, but the doors all have pops of color. It’s fun.

“I can see that,” Jared says teasingly. “The driveway goes around to the back. It’s a shorter walk inside that way. We wanted to wake you up before I drove around.”

“Okay,” I say, watching as he pushes the car into drive and smoothly pulls around the house. There are vines that crawl up the sides of the house with pretty flowers and several rose trellises that look like they could be climbed.

My lips twitch at the thought. If I was healthier, it would be fun to do normal teen things like climb out a window. I’d definitely fall. I’ll probably be more well behaved than a normal high schooler.

I just want to survive to graduate if it’s at all possible. I had one last therapy appointment last night. Dr. Tracy and I discussed how I felt about pivoting. I told her the only reason I was excited about getting my GED is because it meant that I would no longer have to deal with the bullshit of school.

I don’t mind the work, it’s the attitude of my teachers that I hate. I think the physical education teacher at my old school really gets his rocks off by making his students miserable.

Speaking of…

“Do I have to do PE at this school?” I ask suddenly.

“No,” Jared says before Rachelle can say anything. “We have a pool and I read last night that low impact exercise is better for you.”

“You’ve been researching more?” I ask, chewing on my inner lip. They’re both so sweet. People don’t usually care enough to understand me.

“We all have,” Rachelle admits. There are large open gates that we drive through into the wide driveway that leads into the backyard. “The school will want proof you’re exercising outside of what they provide. For example, those in sports, dance, or gymnastics don’t have gym class on their schedule.”

“Nice,” I admit. “I’m not a very strong swimmer but I can hold onto the edge and kick?”

I phrase that as a question because I’m not sure if it’ll fit what’s needed to exempt myself from gym class.

“That’ll work,” Jared says. “I would prefer you learn to swim since we have a pool. We can get a teacher out here or I can teach you. Rachelle almost drowned once. It’s made us all hyper aware of how important it is to learn.”

Rachelle rolls her eyes at him and I wonder what the story is there.

“Jared is a very good teacher, but he’s right. Learning how to swim is important. We can start with swimming by the sun deck, with the agreement you’ll choose a swim teacher,” she says. “This way, we can get you out of whatever gym class they have for seniors.”

“Deal,” I say immediately. My parents worked so much when I was little, I never learned how to do the “normal” things most parents teach their kids.

Swimming, learning how to ride a bike, cooking, etc. My parents never taught me any of this. I only learned basic cooking skills because the group home taught me how to not burn down their kitchen. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even have those skills.

I love to learn new things, which is why it’s a joke when my teachers call me lazy.

“Alright, let’s go inside then,” Rachelle says, opening the car door.

Following suit, my eyes widen as I catch a glimpse of the pool and the edge of the cliff. There’s a wall around the cliff and a pool guard to protect the tiny people who live here.

“Wow,” I mumble as I stare out at the backyard.

“I’ll grab the bags, Rachelle. I think Noor might want to see the backyard.” Jared chuckles.

I wince because while Miss Martin was able to salvage a duffle bag and I have my school backpack, I have little else in the way of belongings.

“I love this house,” she confesses, tangling her fingers in mine as she tugs me behind her.

No one ever touches me. Squeezing her fingers as I struggle to process how that makes me feel, I distract myself by gazing down at the pretty brick driveway that gives way to pavers. There is a lot of shade from trees, chairs with a covered pavilion, and the backyard is so much bigger than I originally thought.

The pool is huge, and there’s also a play area for the kids further down the yard.

“Wow,” I whisper, wondering if I’d be able to do my schoolwork out here.