فصل 33

CHAPTER 33

Possibilities

Working with Mr. Daniels gets easier because I am happy. But the work is really hard for me.

He has written cat on the board and we talk about the sounds. I can only hear one sound—cat—but he says that the word cat has three separate sounds. It feels like he’s telling me the sky is yellow. As I say each of the sounds, he has me tap them out on my fingers. It does seem to help. It forces me to make them separately even though they are all one word. But it’s a tiny word, and I worry what I’ll do about whole books. Will I ever be able to do this?

When we are all done for the day, he leans back in his chair like Travis would. So, you are doing great, Ally. You really are. How are you feeling about all of this?

I’m actually happy to do this extra work, and I never thought I’d ever say something like that.

He smiles. Good. I’m glad.

But . . .

Yeah?

I guess I still wonder if I’ll ever feel . . . if I’ll ever be able to read the same as other kids and be . . . normal . . . and not to have to have all this extra help. It seems impossible.

He becomes serious. Then he takes out a piece of plain paper and pulls the cap off of a marker with his teeth. He begins to write.

I M P O S S I B L E

Do you know what that says? Remember to break it into chunks. This is a long one, though, isn’t it?

I nod, trying to sound it out. Important?

No, but that’s a good try. It says impossible. Like you just said. You told me you think it seems impossible to read as well as everyone else.

Yeah, I say, wondering why he had to write it down for me. It’s not like I need a reminder.

Then he draws a red line between the M and the P and hands it to me.

I M / P O S S I B L E

I want you to rip the paper in two pieces. Right where that line is.

I do.

So, now, Ally . . . that big piece of paper in your hand says possible. There is no impossible anymore, okay?

I swallow and look down at it and I feel a little dizzy. The way he says it makes me feel like it could actually be true.

Now, throw that little piece with the ‘I-M’ on it in the trash. It’s gone forever.

I walk over to the garbage and drop it in. Watch it twist and spin as it falls. I look up and lock eyes with him and wish I had the words to tell him how grateful I am for his helping me. In this world of words, sometimes they just can’t say everything.

All right, then. He nods. You head home. I have some homework to do or I’ll lose my recess.

Okay. I laugh, but I’m still thinking of the word on the paper. Thanks, I say, looking down at it.

My pleasure, he replies, and takes a folder out of his briefcase.

I stare at that word, P-O-S-S-I-B-L-E, all the way down the hallway. I study the red color. I draw my fingers over the letters. I even smell the paper so I can take it in somehow.

I really want to believe.