Chương 8
Noah said, “Sometimes professionally.”
Marcus stood and walked toward the window.
Lily looked at Evelyn.
“What happens if I say yes?”
“No.”
Marcus turned.
Lily snapped, “I asked her.”
He stopped.
Evelyn folded her hands.
“If you say yes, I still won’t agree unless the terms change.”
“What terms?”
“No guarantee of standing. No description of you as cured. No use of your medical information. You decide what you say, if anything. You can leave at any point. No live broadcast.”
Marcus said, “She is not doing it.”
Lily felt heat rise into her face.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because somebody has to.”
“No. Somebody wants to.”
“I am your father.”
“I know.”
“I am responsible for protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From this.”
He gestured at the papers.
“The videos. The comments. People turning your body into a fundraising device.”
“You can’t protect me by doing the same thing.”
Marcus froze.
Lily heard the cruelty only after the sentence left her.
His face emptied.
Noah shifted near the bookshelf.
Evelyn looked down.
Lily wanted to take the words back.
She did not.
Because part of them was true.
Marcus sat slowly.
“What does that mean?”
Lily’s eyes burned.
“It means everybody asks what my legs can do and then looks at you for the answer.”
“That is because doctors need—”
“Not doctors. Everyone.”
He said nothing.
“At restaurants they ask you if I can take the stairs.”
“I answer because—”
“At school you emailed my teachers before I knew what you wrote.”
“I was arranging accommodations.”
“You told them not to let me attend the spring trip.”
“It was three days in Washington with an unreliable bus lift.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
“Because I knew what would happen.”
“No, you knew what you were afraid would happen.”
Marcus looked as if she had slapped him.
Lily’s breathing became uneven.
She hated crying in front of people.
Hated the way tears made adults soften their voices and stop listening to the words.
She blinked hard.
“I know you’re trying to keep me safe.”
Marcus stared at his hands.
Lily continued.
“But sometimes safe feels exactly like gone.”
The room stayed quiet.
Noah looked toward the window.
Evelyn’s eyes closed briefly.
Marcus rubbed his thumb across his palm.
When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its authority.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
Lily’s anger weakened.
That was the first frightening thing her father had said all week.
Not I know what’s best.
Not trust me.
I don’t know.
She looked at him.
“Neither do I.”
For once, neither tried to repair the sentence.
Evelyn gathered the papers.
“I’m refusing the condition tonight.”
Lily looked at her.
“Wait.”
Marcus stiffened.
Lily did not look at him.
“Ask them to change it.”
Evelyn paused.
“To what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Marcus began, “Lily—”
She raised one hand.
He stopped.
That was new.
Lily looked at Noah.
“What would your grandmother say?”
Noah thought.
“She’d ask whether there was free food.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“She was complicated.”
“Good.”
He leaned against the bookshelf.
“Then she’d probably ask who gets to leave if things go badly.”
Lily frowned.
Noah shrugged.
“She hated anything where the powerful people could exit and everybody else had to live with the consequences.”
Evelyn looked at her son.
“You remember that?”
“She said it every Thanksgiving.”
“She was talking about Uncle Peter.”
“Still applies.”
Lily looked down at the donor proposal.
Who gets to leave?
The donor could leave.
The foundation could lose money but survive.
The audience could go home.
The internet could scroll on.
Lily would still wake up in the same body the next morning.
She understood what she wanted then.
Not completely.
Enough to begin.
“I’ll appear,” she said.
Marcus closed his eyes.
“But I won’t stand for them.”
Evelyn waited.
“I’ll talk about the video. I’ll talk about the wheelchair. I’ll talk about what happened to Mateo. I’ll talk about the comments.”
Noah’s expression changed.
Interest.
Maybe pride, but he was smart enough not to show too much.
Lily continued.
“And if the donors only give money if I perform, then everybody gets to know that.”
Evelyn said, “They may walk.”
“Then they walk.”
The word hung in the room.
Lily almost wished she had chosen another.
Then she decided not to.
Marcus looked at her.
“You understand that could become another story about you.”
“Yes.”
“You may get attacked again.”
“Yes.”
“You may regret it.”
“Yes.”
He stared.
She added, “I might regret not doing it too.”
Marcus leaned back and looked exhausted.
“That is an extremely annoying argument.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t praise.”
“I’m taking it as praise.”
Noah smiled.
Evelyn closed the folder.
“I will take new terms to them.”
Marcus said, “I want a lawyer to review everything.”
Lily opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
“That’s fair.”
Marcus looked surprised.
She shrugged.
“I’m fourteen, not stupid.”
“I have never said you were stupid.”
“You did make me use a childproof cup in the hospital when I was thirteen.”
“You dropped three glasses.”
“My hands were weak.”
“Exactly.”
“That is evidence for my side.”
For the first time in days, the four of them laughed at the same thing.
The donor group accepted most of Lily’s conditions.
They refused one.
They wanted the event livestreamed.
Lily refused to attend.
They came back forty-eight hours later and dropped the livestream.
Marcus called it leverage.
Lily called it people discovering ethics after a calculator became involved.
Noah said both could be true.
In the weeks before the event, Lily returned to therapy.
Not because the donors asked.
That distinction became important enough that she wrote it on a sticky note and put it inside her phone case.
MINE.
On the first day, Dr. Shah positioned a physical therapist beside the parallel bars.
Lily sat in her wheelchair.
The brake clicked.
She placed both hands on the bars.
Her legs trembled before she moved.
“Ready?” the therapist asked.
“No.”
May you like
The therapist waited.
Lily looked at her.
