I twist around, turn my face away from the monitor. Sean is playing a video game. Every so often the game emits a series of crashes and beeps, animals wearing space suits zip around in brightly colored costumes and shoot each other and suddenly the screen announces Game Over. I ask Sean what he is playing and he tells me it is called StarFox. Thats cool. Lazily, I slip out of my seat and move toward him and it seems to be in slow motion because my lethargy hinders my movements. At least I haven't tripped over my feet or overturned my chair. I am not graceful even for a girl and I break stuff and it creates a problem once in a while.

Sean challenges me to a game of MarioKart or something. My character is a blonde in a pink dress named Peach. We zip around in little go karts and I deliberately smash into stuff and get blown up and go the wrong way so that he will end up winning. He is happy. I tell him that I suck at this game. He noticed. I feel a slight edge of anger, the sharp silver lining in my cloud of sorrow, and I look at his legs, wizened and shrunk from the operation. Every time he moves he is in constant pain. His toenails are still yellow with remnants of the antibacterial stuff they slathered onto him after he got out of surgery. He's only ten. So I ask him if he wants some breakfast and he says that he wants a choclate chip muffin and I help him into his wheelchair and bring him to the table. My parents say that surgery is the best thing, it's for the best, it will strengthen his legs and improve his chances but I see in their eyes that they don't believe he will ever walk unaided. And why are you crying, I ask myself. Sean is in less pain than the last operation, he hasn't needed the codeine that's in the cupboard over the stove, and I find myself wishing time and time again that we could trade places, that I would gladly take his place in that wheelchair and he could have my legs and run and be normal and have friends. So I get him his muffin and then I have to go outside for a bit. The air is summer-warm, it is still raining but that is okay because it camouflages the unyeilding tears that run in rivulets down my cheeks.