Finding Hope

2013 Best Illustration Winner! (See library copy!)

Finding Hope

By Zola von Krusenstiern

I dedicate this book my family, who helped me put this book together, and all the other young writers, who will make the world brighter.

Maple Leaf Book Writing Project

Brattleboro, Vermont

Copyright 2013

The wind in my hair. The sun’s heat beating down. The freedom I have. These are the reasons I love riding.

1.

I lie in bed thinking how much I hate nights. Night is when I have to calm down, when I have to leave Hope, when I can’t do what I want to do. I hate nights!

I get up and tiptoe over to my window. Where is she?

“Hope,” I whisper, looking into the cold night. “Hope.” I guess Dad put her in the barn. Going back to bed I turn on my light and take a random book off the shelf. Ferdinand, why does Julianna have to share my bookshelf?! I throw Ferdinand on the ground. Reading, not helping.

I try counting back from one hundred. Dad always says he does it when he can’t sleep. 100, 99, 98, 97, 96… I count all the way down to zero. Counting, not helping. 11 o’clock. Why can’t it just be morning!

I get out of bed again grabbing my sweatshirt, and creep out of my room. Dad is snoring. I slip on my sneakers and go downstairs out into the cool of autumn in Vermont. Leaves crunch under my feet as I walk to our big barn.

“Hope.” I open the door and hug her warm neck. “Hey girl,”

She nozzles my hand.

Outside I jump on Hope’s back, clutch her black mane and lightly kick her. She starts slowly walking around our pen. Maybe I shouldn’t be out here, maybe it’s not safe. I shake away my doubts pulling closer to Hope.

The sky is, it’s almost pitch black. The only light is the glow from the moon and her star children.

I get sleepy from Hope’s rocking body and the peace of the night. Lying on my stomach I close my eyes. Hope’s mane slips from my fingers. Then everything goes black.

“Shiloh?” It’s Dad.

“I don’t think she’s awake.” Mom’s cold hand strokes my forehead. I slowly open my eyes.

“Mom? Dad?” Everything looks fuzzy. “Where are you?” I try to stand. “Owww!!” I scream and collapse as darkness takes over.

I wake in a tiny white room. Where? I hear voices.

“Your daughter damaged nerves in her back and is paralyzed. She may have to use a wheelchair for the rest of her life. But we can try therapy and hope.”

Someone is crying. Mom.

Then a door closes and footsteps come to my bed. I pretend I’m sleeping.

“It’s going to be okay,” Mom whispers then leaves. When I can’t hear her footsteps anymore I try to move my foot. I can’t.

Closing my eyes again I try to sleep. It’s only when the taste of salt reaches my mouth that I notice I’m crying.

2.

Everything is so hard! I can’t even go to the bathroom alone, never mind take a shower. I probably haven’t bathed for at least a week! Since I’m in bed most of the time I don’t really know how many days have passed. I don’t see a lot of people except my family and, once in a while, my best friend Lila.

We are in the same grade, ninth, so she brings me homework. I haven’t done much. I’m not that great at it. Never really was. Mom says I should do it because I need to stay caught up and it would give me something to do since I’m stuck in this bed.

I look at what Mom brought from home, stuff she thought I’d like to have. Picking up my favorite Karen Hesse book I open to the bookmark and start reading words I have probably read a million times, I don’t realize time passing and suddenly I’m at the end of the book. Putting it down I try to think of something else to do. I wish my PT session were now.

“Knock, knock!” Mom peeks her head in.

Lila bursts into the room.

“Hey! How you doing?” I ask turning off the TV.

“Great. You?” She sits.

“Good, I guess.”

“Here,” she hands me a box. “Dark.” I hug her.

“Thank you so much! How did you know I’ve been having chocolate cravings?” Biting into a piece, I try to savor every bit but like always I devour it. I eat three pieces then push it away. “Take this or I’m going to eat it all right now and not have any left!” Lila puts it on the bedside table.

“Thanks.”

“No need for thanks. You know I’ll always be there for you.” She sits down. “Oh, guess what?! The drama club’s play just ended so I’m going to have more free time and can come see you everyday! But I’m meeting with the drama club for an end of play thing soon, so I have to leave early,” she says.

“Lila! It’s 5:30,” Mom calls from the hallway.

“Thanks! See you Shiloh. Text you later.”

“Bye!” I pick up the TV remote.

“Don’t you turn that TV on!” Mom comes into the room. “You’ve barely done any homework!” I put down the remote and pick up my bag from the side of my bed.

“Shiloh?” Mom sits.

“Yeah?” Mom suddenly seems serious.

“You know when your cousin hurt his leg about two years ago?”

I nod.

“And remember how he went to physical therapy everyday?”

I nod again

“Tomorrow,” she pauses and starts over. “Your doctor said it’s time to come home and try doing a brand new kind of therapy. He told me about a man who was paralyzed from the neck down. He did this new PT and now walks without using anything,” Mom smiles.

“So you’re saying that tomorrow I’m going home?!”

She smiles again.

I don’t know how to feel. Happy, scared? Closing my eyes I suddenly feel tired.

“You okay?” Mom sounds worried.

Opening them I answer, “Fine,” then close them again. Mom kisses my forehead and leaves.

Questions sweep through my head. Will Hope be blamed for the fall? Is she okay?

Can I do this?

3.

“It’s going to be fine honey, don’t worry.” Mom tries to get me into my brand new wheelchair.

“I’m not worried,” I lie. How am I not supposed to be worried?

Taking a deep breath I remember my fifth grade teacher, Karen. She always told us to breathe. At the time it was a little annoying but right now it’s really helpful.

I let myself be guided into the chair by Mom. Finally, I’m in, breathing hard.

If I’m so tired just getting into a wheelchair how will I ever do the therapy, never mind walk or ride again!? Exhausted I let Mom push me out of the room and out of the building I’ve lived in for what feels like forever but has only been a week.

“Now lets figure out how to get you into the car. Want to sit in the back so you can lie down or up front with me?”

“Back,” I answer.

Lying down I rest, or try to.

Before I know it we’re there.

Being wheeled down the front path my nervousness hits like a door slamming in my face. My eyes glaze over with tears. Mom must have seen me tense up because she stops and rubs my shoulders.

“Its okay,” she whispers. “There’s nothing to worry about. Everyone here is wonderful.”

Wiping my eyes I reach up to hug her neck and kiss her forehead. “What would I do without you? On we roll!” She laughs and wheels me inside.

In the lobby there’s a young man with a shaved head.

“Hello, my name is Ollie. You must be Kim Angier,” he says to Mom, extending his hand.

“Yes.” She shakes it. “And this is Shiloh.”

“Hello Shiloh. I win to be your physical therapist!’’

I try to smile. “Hi,” I muster.

“Follow me.” He leads us down a narrow hallway, then into a white room with a big window.

Fire colored leaves spread across the front lawn outside. Fall is so beautiful and I’ve spent a whole week of it in a miniature hospital room with one window.

“Shiloh?”

“Yes?” I turn.

“Do you know how to use a wheelchair on your own?” Ollie asks.

“Not yet.”

“Lets start there,” he says.

Ollie demonstrates. It’s really hard and my muscles burn afterward but he says it will get easier.

“Okay, see you tomorrow,” he says.

“Already?” I don’t want to leave!

I try to wheel myself but I’m too tired so Mom helps me.

“See you soon!” I say enthusiastically as Mom takes me to the car to bring me home. Bring me home to Hope, to fall and all the other wonderful things in life. Finally!

4.

“You ready to get on the treadmill?” Ollie asks.

“Yes!” We go to the hall and into the ‘gym.’ Mom and Ollie help me get on the treadmill and I hold myself up by using the sidebars. Very challenging!

Ollie starts the treadmill. I try to walk or at least stay up.

The first time I tried, two weeks ago, I passed out almost immediately. Now I can do it for almost fifteen minutes. A picture of Hope in my mind always keeps me going.

After thirteen I need to take a break. “Done,” I pant.

“It’s been two weeks,” Ollie says stopping the treadmill.

“Yep.”

“You’re ready.”

“For what?”

“To go back to school.” A huge smile sprouts on his face.

I’m speechless. Go back? To hallways? Homework? Back to friends?

I want to jump up and hug him. But of course I can’t. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!”

“Hey, just thank yourself and all the people that helped you in the hospital.”

I feel so happy and free, a little scared too but it doesn’t put me down.

“Can I do more treadmill?” I ask feeling pumped.

“Sure!”

I believe I can do anything. Now one minute, five, ten. Before I know it I’ve been on the treadmill for twenty minutes! Will I actually be able to ride Hope again?!

“Yes! I did it!”

Collapsing into my wheelchair I exhale. My new record, I ‘walked’ for twenty minutes! With happiness I cry that I can go back to school and that I made a new record.

Then my happy tears turn into sobs. Why am I happy that I stayed up for twenty minutes when I used to be able to ride Hope for three hours?

I miss Hope so much. I sob for Hope and for me.

Mom wheels me out. I have no strength, no power, just weakness and vulnerability.

At home Mom helps me on the couch, which has been my bed since I have come home, kisses my cheek and leaves. I turn my head and look out the window. Having a clear view of the barn I see Hope, sticking her head out the window.

I hear Dad come home. Low voices. Then his voice raises.

“Are you sure she’s ready?”

“I’m positive, Max. You know, today she stayed for twenty minutes on the treadmill, twenty minutes!”

“Two weeks seems too soon.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll have lots of help.”

Their voices die as they walk upstairs to their bedroom.

Madness bubbles up inside. Why doesn’t Dad have faith in me? Why doesn’t he think I can manage school? I try to calm down and see his side.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m not ready. Maybe I WILL be too far behind and not know what to do. Maybe I won’t be able to get around by myself when Lila has a different class than me.

I pull up the blanket and clear my head. It will be all right. I repeat this over and over in my head. It’s my last thought before I fall asleep.

5.

“i’ll b rite ovr :)” Lila texts.

“c u “ I answer putting down my phone. Wheeling into the kitchen I make sure I have everything. Binders, check. Math, Science and Social Studies textbooks, check, check. Where’s my Social Studies?

“Mom, have you seen my Social Studies textbook?” I yell.

“On the table. Maybe it fell.”

“I don’t see it,” I go into the living room. Maybe I brought it in here.

The doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it!” Julianna calls.

She stamps down the stairs and swings open the door.

“Lila!” Julianna tackles Lila in a big bear hug, then accidentally drops the book she’s holding. “Oops,” she says picking it up.

I put out my hand. “What have I said about touching my stuff.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t reach my markers and Mom was busy.” She hands me my textbook then gives Lila another hug.

“You ready?” Lila asks.

“Yeah.” NO! I scream in my head. “Mom! We’re going!”

“Wait!” Mom yells, coming in and kissing my cheek. “You don’t need to be nervous, okay? I packed your lunch so you wouldn’t-”

I cut her off. “Mom! It’s okay, chill. Bye.” I kiss her then wheel out of the house and down the front walk.

School here we come!

Lila pushes me into school. Immediately Angie and Lakota run over.

“Shiloh we missed you so much!” Angie screams hugging me.

Lakota does the same. “I’m really sorry we never visited.”

“It’s ok, I wasn’t really in the mood to see people,” I say hugging them back.

The bell rings. “See you later!” Angie says. She and Lakota laugh as they run to their first class. I tell myself that I’ll be running too, someday.

“Lets go,” Lila pushes me to math.

Taking out the homework I actually did do I feel sorta guilty. I should have done more.

“Welcome back Ms. Angier,” Mr. Scott says in his deep familiar voice.

“Hi,” I say meekly handing him my homework. “Sorry I didn’t get more done. I’ll catch up.”

He nods. “Ms. Danner please take your seat. Shiloh, you can sit at the side table.”

I feel awkward as I wheel myself to the side, sensing everyone’s eyes staring into me. Mr. Scott is not making my first day back to school easier.

During the rest of the morning classes I’m in a daze with teachers welcoming me back and students either staring at me or trying hard not to, making me feel like an alien.

At lunch I meet Lila and Lakota.

“Did you see Angie in Science?” Lakota asks.

“What, I don’t know. Sorry, I’m not paying attention today,” rubbing my head I wish I was in bed. “I’m really tired.”

“Come on Shiloh, lets eat in Study Hall,” Lila smiles.

“Yeah!” Lakota brightens. “Just let me get my lunch.” She dashes off.

I laugh. I'd almost forgot how laughing felt. How it warms your whole body. How it makes you feel like you could fly around the world.

“How was school honey?” Mom asks, when I get home.

“Good,” I respond vaguely, wheeling into the house. In the kitchen I heave my heavy backpack off my lap, lying my head on the table.

I’m overwhelmed.

6.

“Shiloh! You awake?!” Julianna yells in my face.

“Hmmm,” I realize that last night was the first full night I’ve slept in a long time.

“It’s Saturday wake up!”

I pull the blanket back over my head. Just a few more minutes, I’m still so tired.

“Ok fine, but I’m still watching cartoons in here,” Julianna pouts turning on the TV. So annoying!

Then she sneaks under the blanket with me and I fall back asleep.

When I wake Julianna's gone and the house is silent. The afternoon sunbeams shine through the panes. So peaceful. But, I realize I'm starving!

Pulling my wheelchair close to the couch I transfer myself, and wheel into the kitchen. There's a note on the table and food!!

I take a huge bite of the apple then read the note.

Shiloh,

Dad and I will be back shortly.

Love, Mom

Later when Mom gets home I watch her put on her muck boots and overalls, getting ready to clean Hope's stall. She starts heading outside.

That used to be my job. I want it back. I used to be the one to feed her, clean her stall, brush her. Now all that responsibility falls onto my parents already heavy shoulders. What once was a chore is now a craving, something I miss.

I wheel out to Mom and Hope. Watching I imagine myself standing up and helping, something I might never be able to do again. I feel my heart pound and into the pit of my stomach.

"Hey honey! You need something?"

I shake my head in a daze. I need Hope. She slowly walks over from her stall. I reach up and stroke her warm neck. "I missed you too," I whisper.

Then I feel something. A tingle. Just a little one, in my right foot. Tears well up in my eyes. "Mom!" I yell with glee.

"What is it?!" she says.

"My foot!" I bend down and rip of my shoe and sock. It wiggles! "I can move my toe!"