If there was a taunt in the question she never noticed. “I had bleeding inside my brain wh-when I was born.”
And that seemed to satisfy whoever asked the question.
She and her mother had moved into their half of the duplex when Armpit was still at Camp Green Lake. Her mother was ready to move away when she found out that the boy next door was a violent criminal who would soon be returning home.
She was now glad she hadn’t.
Ginny and Armpit hit it off from the beginning. She didn’t fear him, and he didn’t pity her.
Not long after they started their daily walks, Ginny stopped wearing her leg braces, claiming they pinched her. She had a walker as well, but only used that if she needed to move quickly, like at school when they went outside for recess.
But as much as Armpit helped her, she helped him even more. She gave his life meaning. For the first time in his life, there was someone who looked up to him, who cared about him.
Together they were learning to take small steps.
“She s-sings like I talk,” said Ginny.
“How do you mean?”
“H-hands are sh-sh-shaking!” sang Ginny.
Armpit laughed. “You know that’s just part of the song,” he said.
“Yes. But I l-like it.”
“Me too,” said Armpit. “So if you had the money, would you pay fifty-five dollars for a ticket?”
“Yes.”
“How about seventy-five?”
“Yes.”
“A hundred?”
“No.”
&nb
sp; He laughed. “They paid seven hundred and fifty dollars in Philadelphia.”
“No way!” said Ginny.
“That’s what X-Ray said.”
“You c-can’t believe everything X-Ray s-says.”
She was right about that.
“You sweat a lot.” With just one finger extended, she delicately touched a large circle of sweat under his arm.
“Yeah, well, it’s hot out.”
“I don’t sweat,” said Ginny.
“You will when you get older.”
“And I will w-walk and t-talk better.”