Page 76 of Lucky Laces
“I’m not claiming to be an expert.”He leans back in the chair, propping his feet up on the railing.“But testing and interventions have come a long way since we were kids.”
“I don’t doubt you’re right.But…” I sigh.“The letters don’t are reverse on me like that.”
“They move?”he asks.“Dance their fucking asses across the page?”
My heart thumps hard and I glance over at him and nod.“Yeah.”
“What about their shapes?They get cut off or change, like you never know if it’s a B or a D?”
Every cell in my body freezes.“Yeah,” I rasp.
“Or sometimes everything on the page jumbles?Like the words and symbols have all compressed on top of one another into one giant letter blob?”
My mouth drops open.“How’d you?—?”
He sets his beer on the table, leans toward me, voice quiet for the first time.“I’ve lived it.”
I inhale, hating the hope welling up, but knowing I need to ask.“Are you?—?”
“Cured?”He shakes his head.
The hope inside me implodes.
And fuck, that hurts.
“But,” he says and hope comes back in a nearly as painful rush, “there are all these fonts that help and programs and specialists.There are resources and research out there that we didn’t have as kids.And after working with them, I can do what I never thought I could—I can pick up a book and read something.And I canenjoyit.”
My throat tightens.
Because I can read, of course I can.
But it’s never been enjoyable.
Fucking never.
A struggle, yes.A battle with my own brain just to get some basic comprehension, absolutely.
But to just enjoy it?
That’s never been something I even considered remotely possible.
“Smitty,” I whisper and fuck if my voice isn’t tight, if my eyes don’t sting.
“I know,” he whispers back, and the gleam in his brown eyes tells me he does.“You want that?”
I nod.“Yeah.”
“It’ll take work.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“Yeah, with that one at the helm”—his mouth turns up into a dry smile as he jerks his chin at Dee—“I know you aren’t.”
“She’s not work.”I turn, glare at him.“She’s a fucking gift, and I don’t care what fancy shit you can bring to the table to help me sort out my brain, I will knock your ass out if you talk about her like that again.”
Smitty’s expression is full of thunderclouds.
Then the storm clears and he smiles a big, toothy grin.
