Page 6 of Golden

I flash her my best ‘get away with murder’ smile and hoist the bag over my shoulder. “They do, but there’s like twenty of us trying to use them at the same time. Plus, it gives me an excuse to come visit.”

As I reach the top of the steps, I stoop and kiss Mom on the cheek, and she sighs. “You know you don’t need an excuse.”

“I know.”

It’s one of the reasons I chose Franklin West. I’m Portland born and raised and staying close to home was a priority.

“I was just making lunch,” Mom says as I head toward the laundry room. “Throw your stuff in the machine and then wash up.”

Every year, I try to make it home as many weekends as I can before lacrosse season starts. It’s not only because I love my family, it’s also because I have no idea where my career might take me after graduation. My degree in sports science is the first step toward becoming a physical therapist for disabled athletes, and the companies I’ve reached out to for experience next year are scattered across the country. There are no available openings in Portland. I tried.

“Sol! Hurry up!”

Jacey’s voice carries through the house, and I make quick work of emptying my laundry into the machine, wrinkling my nose at the stench of dried sweat. Heading back out into the corridor, the smell of grilled cheese and tomato soup leads me to the kitchen, my stomach rumbling loudly in anticipation.

“Your favorite,” I note, raising my eyebrows in my sister’s direction. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Mom answers.

I frown in her direction. “I was sort of joking before, but now I think something did happen.”

Jacey groans and leans over her bowl of soup, her dark blonde hair forming a curtain around her face.

“Jace?” I press. “Tell me, or I’ll tickle it out of you.”

She stays, head down, for a second and I look at Mom, but she’s watching her daughter with a pinched expression that makes my heart twist. Jacey has cerebral palsy. My dad is a physician, so they caught the signs early, although they initially thought it was worse than it is. Mom gave up work when she was one, but Jacey surprised everyone and has managed to live a perfectly ordinary life, with it only affecting her left leg, instead of all four limbs as they’d first thought.

My little sister is a ray of sunshine. She charms everyone she meets and deals with curious stares and blunt questions with a poise and confidence most adults could only dream of. I’m damn proud of her. Which is why my stomach is twisting watching her now. I’ve never seen her this dejected and I want nothing more than to make it go away.

“Jacey?” I try again.

“Ugh,” she groans. “Fine. I asked Mom if I could join this group I found online. It’s for teens with CP.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. That’s . . . good?”

Jacey looks up at me, her big blue eyes gleaming with sadness. “Do you know how lucky I am?”

I glance at Mom, who looks like she’s had this conversation a dozen times already, before turning back to my sister. “Um, yeah. That shouldn’t be a shock to you. We’re a wealthy, white family with a ton of privilege. You know that.”

She rolls her eyes in the way that only teenage girls can, managing to make me feel stupid and out of touch at the same time. “Not because of that. Because of my CP. Do you know how much worse it could have been?”

I frown. “Yeah. I do.”

Not only have I researched cerebral palsy to the point of expertise since middle school, I also had a couple of weeks’ work experience last spring break helping out with Team USA for the Paralympics. Not only did it solidify the fact that it’s the career path I want, I got to work with some really inspirational athletes.

If Jacey ever wanted to compete, she’d be classed as CP8, which is the mildest bracket, with CP1 meaning the use of an electric wheelchair and being quadriplegic.

“Are you saying you feel guilty because you can lead a pretty normal life?”

She scowls at me, but it’s not intimidating, it’s freaking adorable. “I want to do something.”

“I’m going to need more,” I say, dunking a triangle of toasted cheese in my soup.

Jacey sits back and tucks her hair behind her ears. “A few new kids joined school this year. They’re okay, but even after I explained cerebral palsy to them, they were still really confused. It’s why I wanted to join the group—to find out more for myself.”

With my mouth full, I gesture for her to continue.

“The group meets at a center in the city, but it doesn’t get a lot of funding. I suggested trips we could go on, but some of the kids that go need special transportation because of wheelchairs, and the center doesn’t have the money. I want to change that.”

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