Story Time Project By:Olivia haines

I sit in the hospital waiting room, counting the number of chairs in between me and my best friend, Rowan. She came here to support me, and I know it was a nice thing to do, but all I want right now is to be left alone. I picture my mom coming out, telling me that everything is okay and that Adaline May is fine. I know this is just my perfect world getting in the way of reality, though. I know that my mom will come out and tell me, you can go now, and “It’ll be a little while before she can go home.” As I really start thinking about it, I start feeling tears in my eyes, and eventually running down my face. Rowan comes over to comfort me, and I can’t help but hug her back. This time I actually listen to her words of comforting, friendly sarcasm, “Everything will be okay.” The lady behind the front desk finally realizes that I’m crying and comes over. I push her away and run to the bathroom. I feel humiliated to know that people are seeing me like this. I feel so thankful that it’s a one stall bathroom, and I can lock myself inside.

When I finally decide to come out from my not so secret little hiding place, the nurse is out there waiting for me with my mom behind her. I decide to give her the evil eye. “You can come see her now,” she says right into my eyes as she starts to back away to give me my space. Finally. Someone who understands the “personal bubble” concept. I tell her, “sorry, not right now. I just need to get a hold of what happened.”

I have decided that I have said too much today since I am trying to avoid talking. I will just write Rowan a note so that she gets what I’m saying in a more understanding way than me just telling it to her. I go over to the tree of coloring sheets and flip it over. I grab a pen and start writing.

I think that I have had enough of this whole hospital thing for today. I hope that you understand what I am going through right now and I hope that you respect my choice of leaving right now. I’m gonna text my dad, so if you want a ride, check one of the boxes below

Rowan checked the no box and wrote below, “I understand, don’t worry about it,” so I decide that I’m just going to walk home, in silence, besides all of the cars zooming across the street. My house is just two miles away. Even though it’s in the upper forties, I use that as a strategy to get me to stop thinking about it. Maybe if I freeze myself all I will think about is that.

I walk for about fifteen minutes and decide that the freezing weather isn’t getting my mind off of this, so I decide to call my dad. I pull out my phone and see the screensaver of my name, Regan. I call my dad who was watching my sisters at home. It was probably just an excuse for him coming to the hospital. He would hate seeing Adaline May the way that she is right now. When he asks where I am, I tell him that I’m on the corner of happy and healthy. He laughs at my pathetic joke, so I decide to tell him where I really am. I tell her that I am really on the corner of Angel-street and Johnson avenue.

When he finally gets there, he tells me what a wackadoodle I am for walking. “You know you can call me anytime to pick you up,” Even though I know he isn’t being truthful. We live in a town of four hundred people, so my dad works in the city, an hour and a half away. I’m surprised that we even have a town hospital.

We get home and I go right to my room. My twin sisters, Eve and Alla, came running in the room. We call them “the palindrome sisters,” because Eve was born at 7:09 and Alla was born at 9:07. If you put the two together, they create a palindrome. My parents figured that Palindrome names would be “a good fit,” as they always say. The twins don’t know all of the details to the story of what happened to Adaline May, and nobody wants to tell them. We are afraid that they will get really worried. I wouldn’t blame them, though. They look up to her., so it makes sense.

My dad comes in and tells me it’s time to go to bed. I listen to him the first time tonight since it was a long day and I am actually tired

I wake up a six thirty in the morning to the annoying ring of the phone in the living room. I see the hospital’s caller ID and immediately answer it. “Hello.”

“Hello. Sorry to interrupt you so early in the morning. Who is this?”

“This is Regan. Adaline May’s sister. Can I take a message?”

“Sure. Adaline May is getting out today, and I’m sorry to tell you this but,”

“Why would you be sorry? That’s great news!”

“Adaline May is never going to be able to walk again. She will be in a wheelchair the rest of her life.”

At that moment, I dropped the phone on the ground and ran to my room crying. I never want to go to that hospital place again. If they were any kind of real doctors, they would be able to fix Adaline May so she wouldn’t be miserable the rest of her life.

I go back out to the kitchen and pick up the phone. I hang it up and put it back where it should be. I decide that I’m not going to tell my parents. I will feel guilty for not telling them, but not as guilty as the doctors should feel for ruining me and my family’s life forever. Plus, if they really wanted anyone other than me to know about this, they would call back and personally tell my parents. Why would they trust an eleven-year-old to tell such important information to anyone anyways?

I go back in my room just to find Alla sitting up on my bed waiting for me. “Where were you?” she asks. “And where’s Addy for real?”

“I was in the kitchen getting a glass of water,” I say feeling sorry that I just lied to my four-year-old sister that wants nothing more to know what I was just doing. “I can’t tell you were Adaline May is,” but right after I say that, I have the urge to tell her everything that happened. So I do.

“You know that time when mommy took Addy out?”

“Yah,” said Alla with a worried look on her face.

“Well, Addy and mommy got into trouble on the road. Addy had to go to the hospital.”

“Will she be okay?” Alla asked with tears in her eyes

“Addy is going to be in a wheelchair the rest of her life,” I say with regret in my voice.

At that moment, Alla started crying. I tried to calm her but she wouldn’t stop. No matter what I did, Alla just kept bawling. I didn’t know what to do, so I decided to get her tucked in my bed. Maybe if I got her all tired she would forget about it. I don’t know why I just told her that. If I didn’t want to tell my parents the serious news, then why would I tell a four-year-old that I don’t know that I can trust in a situation like this?

I woke up early this morning, even after my six o’clock surprise. I try to find something to calm me down, but I heard footsteps outside my door and immediately know who is coming to talk to me. “Is there anything you want to tell us?” Said my mom. My face goes blank and my hands go numb. How did she find out?

“Actually, I do have some news for you. It’s about Adaline May.”

“I do know that,” she says with a fresh layer of disappointment covering her face. “Why didn’t you tell your dad and I right away,” she asks. I can tell she has tears in her eyes. It’s like water that is being held back ready to create a river.

“I just couldn’t,” was all I could get out before mom and I started crying.

“What aren’t you guys telling me and Alla? It is our birthday after all,” Eve said with a mad tone of her voice.

“Adaline May is going to be in a wheelchair the rest of her life. She got into a car accident that caused severe damage,” said my mom, struggling to get the words out.

“Oh no no no no no no no!” said Alla. And for the second time today, the tears run down not only Alla’s face but also Eve’s.

We sat there in silence except for tears for about an hour. Suddenly, there was a knock on my bedroom door. “Come in,” said mom.

“Yo.” The only person that actually uses the word yo, is Adaline May.

“Addy,” the twins yell in synchronization. “We’re so glad you’re home”

“Me too,” said Adaline May. It’s the first time I have heard her voice in two days now.

Finally, we were sitting at the dinner table all together eating cake and ice cream for the twins’ birthday. We were one big happy family and that’s all that mattered. We went over to the living room so Alla and Eve could open up their birthday presents.

“Sorry guys. I didn’t have time to get you anything, so I just grabbed some money for you to spend on whatever you want,” Adaline May said when Alla and Eve opened their cards. Then Alla surprised me

“That’s okay. We’re all together now and that’s all that matters.” I think that that statement will forever be ringing inside my head.

It’s been about a month since the accident happened. When I go over to Adaline May’s room to ask her a question about my homework, I see her writing in her diary.

“Addy never writes in her diary unless something serious is going on,” I whisper to myself in a questioning way. I have a sudden urge to read whatever she is writing. Her rule is nobody looks in her diary. I know this and I usually respect the fact that her diary is her’s and I have no right to look in it, but this time it just feels right. My brain knows that I’ll get in severe trouble, but I know I have to. Whatever she is writing I know that just maybe, I can help her fix.

At seven o’clock I crept into her room while Adaline May was out on the couch watching tv. I grabbed her journal from under her bed and start reading.

October 17, 2015

Ever since I got stuck in this wheelchair, I can do anything that I would normally want to do. It’s like the Earth is still spinning and I’m just stuck in time.

I can’t believe what I just read. It blew my mind away. I go back out in the living room just to find Adaline sitting there spacing out.

My family loves music. I play Ukulele, and the twins attempt to play my mom’s old flute. The only person that doesn’t play anything is Adaline. I suddenly have a crazy idea. I think that if I can get Adaline to get stuck on the piano, I might just be able to get her to realize that even though she isn’t able to do things that she would normally do, she can still try some new things.

“Hey Addy,” I say, trying to sound as chill as possible.

“What,” Adaline says in a completely normal way.

“Can you play me a really really long song?”

“I have no idea how to. You know I don’t, and I never did. Why?”

Adeline's puzzling face concerns me. Does she know what I’ve done? “Well, I was just bored,” I lie.


Adaline says as she starts playing random things that actually sound pretty good.

“You’re pretty good. Maybe you should take lessons,” I say hoping that she will agree to this one thing.

“I think that I would like that,” Addy said surprisingly. “I’m gonna go ask mom.”

Yes!! She agreed to ask!

“She said sure!” Said Addy. This is the happiest I’ve seen her in a long long time.

It’s been about a month since Adaline May started taking lessons. She is surprisingly good for starting a month ago. A lot of times I find her playing a song and Alla and Eve dancing to it.

Adaline has been writing in her diary more often. I keep really wanting to read whatever she is writing, but I still can’t. She has her rules and I have mine.

I just have to understand that.

“Come on Addy, you have your lesson right now,” Yelled my mom from the door to the garage.

“I’m grabbing my bag. Just wait a second,” Said Adaline May.

When Adaline came home from piano, she said it went awesome and that she has a recital in about a month.

I suddenly have this gigantic urge to go and read Adeline's diary. I try to casually walk into Addy’s room and grab her diary. I run around the corner to my own room and start reading

December 1, 2015

I’m so glad that Regan told me to try playing a song to her. I feel like I’m free when my fingers glide across the piano and effortlessly bounce right back off of the keys like mini trampolines. I don’t know what I would have done if it weren’t for Regan. I would have been lonely and have had nothing to do.

Adeline's thankful that I asked her? This is exactly how I wanted it to be! I can’t believe that I made this happen! I keep reading but then suddenly hear wheels on the carpet.

“What are you doing with my diary,” Asked Adaline.

“I was just, um, checking to make sure the twins didn’t color in it. You know those girls. But it looks like they didn’t so, um, I’ll, um, see you later!”

“You come back here right now,” said Adaline. She was chasing after me. What I didn’t realize was that Adaline didn’t have that mad of a tone in her voice.

She finally catches up to me. Her facial expression isn’t anger or disappointment. It is a questioning facial expressing.

“Why did you do that,” Adaline asked

“You only write in your diary when there is something wrong. I wanted to help you fix it,” I say hoping not to get in trouble. Then she said something that I really didn’t think she would.

“I just wanted to thank you. I was too chicken to do it in person, so I just wrote it,” Said Adaline.

What? Is she telling me to thank you?

“You’re welcome. I guess,” I said

“What do you mean I guess?”

“I just imagined you would be mad at me,” I said. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was actually kind of hoping that you would read it anyways,” Adaline said. “I have a recital next week. Do you want to come?”

“Absolutely. I’m just relieved that you’re not mad!”

While sitting at Adeline's concert, I think to myself that I was the one who got her here in a way. That’s something that amazes me. How often does Adaline usually listen to her younger sister? Sitting there watching Adaline makes me so impressed that she accomplished all this in such a little amount of time. I think that when I read her diary, it truly made a difference in my life. So this time, I decide to really listen to the music Adaline is playing, with her fingers of freedom.

Works Cited

Digital image. Web. 3 Feb. 2017. <>.

Digital image. Web. 3 Feb. 2017. <>.

Girl Eating Cake. Digital image. Web. <>.

Girl on the Phone. Digital image. Web. 7 Feb. 2017. <>.

Girl Playing Piano. Digital image. Web. 3 Feb. 2017. <>.

Girl Playing the Piano. Digital image. Web. 3 Feb. 2017. <>.

Girl Reading a Book. Digital image. Web. 3 Feb. 2017. <>.

Girl Reading a Journal. Digital image. Web. 3 Feb. 2017. <>.

Girl Walking. Digital image. Web. 3 Feb. 2017. <>.

Girl Writing a Note. Digital image. Web. 3 Feb. 2017. <>.

Piano. Digital image. Web. 1 Feb. 2017. <>.

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