Throat Read Online Free PDF

glaring at her. “I feel fine. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with my eyes. I mean, it’s not that I’m having trouble seeing. It’s like … I’m seeing too good.”
    “That’s not possible,” the specialist said. I never caught his name. He was an old guy with hair going from gray to white. For some reason his jacket smelled faintly of wet dog when he leaned in close with his little penlight. “Any of the things I mentioned—they would all bring about a decrease in vision. The decrease might be temporary, but—”
    “But she could see,” my mother said. “I turned the lights off and tested her. She could see things across the room that I couldn’t see in my hand. She could tell me details about objects in the pitch dark.”
    “Maybe there was more light than you realized?”
    “Test me, then,” I said.
    He did. The specialist made sure no external light was coming in and held objects before me. I could see them easily. It wasn’t like looking at them in the daylight, no. It wasn’t that they were reflecting light either. It was …
    “They’re giving off their own light,” I said.
    “Emma likes to tease,” Mom said, as if she were talking about somebody Manda’s age.
    “No, I don’t,” I said. I hated people who tease. I liked to tell the blunt truth.
    The specialist’s pen gave off a spectral kind of glow. Everything did.
    “Good guess,” he said, holding the pen up in front of me. He was smirking. In the dark.
    “Okay, want to know what is written on it?” I said. “ ‘Mid-South Medical Supply, Memphis, Tennessee.’ Did you swipe it in Memphis?”
    The specialist frowned. “They give them to us. Sales reps. Wait.” The lights flicked back on, making me wince. “There is no possible way you could be seeing all that in the dark. You must have seen it before. Maybe you don’t remember?”
    I was shading my eyes with my arm, looking down at the floor. “Nope. I didn’t see it before.”
    “Fluorescents hurt too?”
    “Not like sunlight. And only when they first come on.”
    He went to his desk and sat down. “Let’s try this again.” He flicked the lights off, and after a moment I could see him there, frosty hair almost glowing as he slid open the top drawer of the desk and took out a stapler.
    “Now what is—”
    “A stapler,” I said. “Swingline. Beige.” He brought out other things. “A Phillips head screwdriver with a square orange handle. Gray cell phone. A CD, some group called the Carpenters. A book of Liberty Bell stamps.”
    The specialist swore softly. “Excuse me.… It’s just that … Give me a second. Okay, I’m going to turn the lights back on now, Emma. Close your eyes.”
    When my eyes adjusted again, we just sat there looking at each other.
    “And you’re sure it’s not meningitis?” my mother said.
    “Absent any other symptoms, I would say no.” The specialist took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I have never seen anything like this. Never read about it in any of the journals, either. If I even told anyone about this, they wouldn’t believe me.”
    Mom’s voice was shaky. “But what are we supposed to do? We told you about the accident. She’s been this way ever since then.”
    “What is it like?” the specialist said, looking at me. “How bright is it? It must be pretty bright for you to see colors and read things. Colors wash out pretty quickly in dim light.”
    I thought about it. “It’s … hard to describe. When I’ve been in the dark awhile, I almost can’t tell the difference. I forget the lights are off. But when the lights come on, it’s … like a lightning flash in my head until I get used to it. But after I’ve been in the light and go back to the dark, I can tell the difference. It’s dimmer, but … somehow I can still see the details. I told you. It’s like things are giving off their own light.”
    The specialist smiled, but his brow was furrowed at the same time, giving him