Isaiah
I hate doctor offices more than anything. The way they look, the way they smell, the way the nurses look at me with pitying glances. They make me want to cry, or scream. Or both.
But Gabe and Jeanie were with me today, so I tried to put on a brave face. I didn’t want them to think I was a baby or a coward. I didn’t want them to know that I felt like I was going to throw up as I sat between them in the vinyl chairs in the waiting room that was mostly full of old people.
Jeanie put her hand on my back and rubbed slow circles, like maybe she knew my insides were all twisted up. She was good like that, knowing hard things without having to explain.
When the nurse finally called my name, Gabe stood first, and lifted me into my arms. I used to hate being carried and being lugged aroun
