Limitless: The Second Edition

Oliver

Tonight is going to be a good night. Not because I don't have any homework. Not because Mom made her famous Mac and cheese for dinner. It's amazing because I am going to call Courtney as soon as I get in the door and up to my room. I am going to call her, and she is hopefully going to answer. Then we are going to talk for who knows how long and arrange a time to bring her to Hannah. Hannah is going to be so happy. I can't wait to see her pretty face light up when Courtney walks in the room. And I'll be standing off to the side acting like it's some big miracle. I don't want the glory. I just want to see Hannah smile.

As soon as Mom pulls up to the house, I scramble out of the car as fast as my crutches will carry me. For a second, I even forget that I can't use my right leg and attempt to put weight on it. I almost fall, but manage to catch myself by grabbing the car. I look over to make sure my mom didn't see. Thank goodness she didn't. My mom makes a big deal out of every time I fall. We go through this at least one morning a week, Mom. I fall sometimes because I want so desperately to be normal that I forget I'm crippled. It's not a big deal.

But that doesn't matter now. It's all fine. My misfortunes are not important. What is important is getting ahold of Courtney. I head inside and I am immediately greeted by a hyperactive white puffball.

"Down, Alita," I order her. "If I give you butt scratches, will you be happy?" I bend down and scratch her butt as she prances around excitedly. When I stop and go to leave, she attempts to jump up on me. Clearly my scratches were not satisfactory. "Alita, I have stuff to do," I plead with the dog. "Let me go."

"Alita, come," Mom calls from the kitchen. "Go do what you need to do, Oliver. I'll entertain the dog."

Alita bounds into the kitchen, leaving me to ride my motorized lift chair up to my room. I sit down and hold my crutches in one hand while pressing the button with the other. While I ride up, I hum the Chain Breaker overture. At the top, I begin singing "Greater than Me", which is Anjan's only solo, under my breath as I make my way to my room. Overcome with excitement, I sit down on the edge of my bed, set my crutches up against the side, then flop back dramatically. Hopefully Courtney has checked her email by now.

And now it's time for the moment of truth.

I take a deep breath, then dial.

First a dial tone, then another. Then another

Finally, the fourth tone gets cut off by a crackle on the other end, followed by a woman's voice. "Hello?"

I bite my lip and look around my room, although I'm not sure at what. "Is this Courtney Sheaffer?"

"Is this Oliver Carowski?" she replies sweetly.

"It sure is. How- how are you?"

"I couldn't be better, Oliver." Courtney answers excitedly. "I'm going to see Hannah again. How is she, by the way?"

I think back to Hannah in rehearsal today. The way she kept smiling at me. The way she praised my read through performance up and down. Her light, airy laugh when someone cracked a joke. "She's amazing, Courtney," I tell her after a pause. "She's so smart, beautiful, and kind. She's been in every show since middle school. She's a superstar."

Courtney laughs. "Funny you should call her that. Way back in the day, I used to call her my little superstar. She was so funny and entertaining. I could have spent all day every day with her."

I sigh and stretch out my other arm. "Tell me about her."

"Oh, are you sure you want to hear all my stories? I don't want to bore you."

"I could listen to stories about Hannah all day," I reply.

"Alrighty then. Well, she was about two when she came to the program. And my goodness gracious, she was such a firestorm. She was so sassy. Didn't take nonsense from anyone. You stole her toy, you got a whole lot of sass. It was hilarious."

I can't help but giggle. "She isn't that sassy now."

"How long have you known her?" Courtney asks.

"Um, less than a week."

"Exactly. Just give it time. She'll let it out sooner or later. Anyway, back to the story. She followed me everywhere. The first time she saw me, she began trying to climb onto the stage to get to me. At least five times her first show they had to pull her back from the stage. As soon as we came down to hang out and do crafts with the kids, she ran over and grabbed onto my leg. From that moment on we were inseparable. She wanted to do everything I did. So when we let the kids play with paper when she was three, she made a pilot hat that looked like mine. I went home that night and ordered her an identical one on the internet."

"I wonder if she still has it," I ponder aloud.

"She probably does," Courtney answers. "Let's see, what else did she do? Oh, yes. Sometimes I brought in nail polish for the kids. She always wanted the same color I had. If my nails were purple, she had to have purple nails, too. Same applied to snacks. If I was having raisins, she had to have raisins even though she didn't even like raisins. They eventually used me to teach her to eat her vegetables. They started giving me carrots and celery and sure enough, she wanted it, too."

I can't stop smiling. Picturing little Hannah copying her friend is so sweet and endearing. "What was it like when she left when she was five?"

Courtney sighs heavily. "It was awful. I had to leave as well because I was about to go to college. Someone must have told her that it was the last time she would be coming to the daycare, because she came in that day crying her eyes out. Wouldn't leave my side, even when I went onstage. She had memorized every dance and every song we ever did together, so the teachers decided to let her stay and dance with me. When she walked out the door for the last time that day, she was screaming for me. It was all I could do not to cry with her as she left. The best three years of my life ended the moment that door closed behind her family."

"Well, I can't wait to see you to reunite," I say. "Did you get Ms. Dawson's email?"

Courtney squeals in delight. "Yes, I did! I called her right away. Can you keep a secret?"

"Leave it to me, Courtney. I swear I won't tell anyone." I mean what I'm telling her. I don't break promises.

"Next Thursday, I'll be there in rehearsal. I'll come find you two. And here's the part you really can't tell anyone. Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," I assure her.

"I'm going to stay until the end of the show to help out. If I'm going to come back to Maryland to see my best friend, I'm going to stay for awhile. You have my word. And by the way, I'm sorry for talking your ear off. I'm so excited."

"Oh I don't mind," I reply. "Like I said, I enjoyed it. I just have a weird question for you."

"Ask away, Oliver. Answering a question is the least I can do for you," she says.

"Why do you have a southern accent if you're from Maryland?"

Courtney laughs again. "Glad you asked, Oliver. I was born in the southwest. Moved here when I was two." She hesitates for a moment. "I have to get going, unfortunately. But before I go, I want to thank you. I'm looking forward to meeting you in a week."

The smile on my face just keeps growing. "I'll see you next week, Courtney. And thank you for talking to me."

"No, Oliver. Thank you."