Life Happens Next Read Online Free PDF Page A

Nothing.
    Mom gets up and says, “I’m gonna go up to my room and work. If you need anything, just holler.”
    Paul says to Mom, “We’ll keep an eye on Shawn.”
    Mom, already walking toward the upstairs staircase, says, “Thanks, kids, that’d be great.”
    Paul asks Ally, “You hungry?”
    Ally answers, “No, I’m fine. I had three tacos for lunch.”
    Paul teases, “Pretty girl, count calories much?”
    Ally answers, “Pretty boy, who is eating two hours after lunch and an hour before dinner?”
    â€œTouché,” Paul says, going to the pantry while Ally takes a seat behind the countertop.
    I’m stuck here listening to this lovey-dovey bull-pucky. It’s like they’re an old married couple already, kidding around, so comfortable with each other. My head shifts and I’m facing Ally’s direction. I can’t will myself to turn my head, but once in a while, it moves where I want it to look and sometimes, like now, it moves where I kind of wish it wouldn’t.
    I see Ally, not all of her, just her head and shoulders over the top of the counter, in profile to me, like a cameo—perfect and lovely. My heart jumps and sinks all at once. Her hair, long and light brown, shines in the sunlight pouring in through the kitchen window. Her skin is so smooth, it looks like alabaster or pearl. Her expression matches the sound of her voice, happy and relaxed.
    Now I see Paul, who walks toward the counter from the fridge, carrying a jar of mayonnaise, a packet of lunch meat and cheese, some mustard, a tiny jar of creamy horseradish sauce, and a loaf of bread. He balances all of it so easily, without any effort, as he unloads each item onto the counter. He’s soooo Mr. Cool, soooo Mr. Perfect.
    If I could speak, what would I say? “Hey, Ally, I know Paul is a great athlete, but I have perfect auditory memory and remember everything I’ve heard, so I’ll bet I’m way smarter than him.” As it happens, though, Paul gets straight As in school. He’s no slouch himself. Plus he’s in advanced college prep classes while I’m in special education where, despite the hardworking educational staff, I haven’t been able to repeat one single word back to them, or learn how to use the toilet or how to tie my shoes. Maybe comparing my intellectual achievements to my brother’s would not be the best way to go. So maybe I’d say, “Hey, Ally, no one could ever love you as much as me, I guarantee it. I mean think about it, if you loved me half as much as I love you, I’d never take it for granted.” But is this the kind of “love” Ally, or any girl, wants? “Love” from a guy in a wheelchair who everybody in the world thinks is a total imbecile, worshiping her but unable to do anything to prove it?
    I watch them both more closely. I hate to admit it, but they’re so perfect for each other. More perfect, even, than Ally and I ever seemed to be in my best dreams about us. She’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. She’s a bit quiet and serious and shy. He’s confident and strong and bold. She can help Paul control his anger and temper. He can help her learn to have fun and take a few risks. I mean they are like every perfect couple you ever see in movies and on TV shows. The way they balance each other out, they’ll be better people for it. Excuse me, can anyone please direct me to the nearest vomitorium?
    As I’m thinking all this negative crap, I overhear Ally say to Paul, “I can’t wait to meet Debi.”
    Paul laughs and says, “Yeah, she’s a trip all right.”
    Now Ally pauses a few seconds before saying, “I think it will be neat for Shawn to have a friend like Debi.”
    Paul says, “You think?”
    Ally sounds so sincere. “Absolutely, having someone who is more like him, a companion who’s more on his level. I’m so