“He loves me, he loves me not.”

“Imagine living with all the pain Denise must feel. Imagine never fitting in, anywhere. A round peg in a square hole.” Mr. Bob is sputtering. Sue looks defensive, then stern. Carole rubs her hair the way she does when she’s perplexed. Sara keeps on talking.

“Give generously, and we will never have to worry about the birth of another normal child. What a great world that would be!”

Now Mr. Bob, Sue, and Carole stand side by side like a row of bowling pins, powerless to stop what’s rolling toward them. And in a way they are. Stopping the skit would create a scene, and Norms are scared of any scene they don’t fully control. Go ahead! Shut us down! See what happens! But at the same time I begin to hope Sara will end the skit soon. Anxiety is leaking back into my brain.

“Margie, what’s the total?”

“WE REACHED OUR GOAL! ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND!” She raises the thermometer high in the air. Her excitement is absolutely genuine.

“A NEW RECORD!” Sara says. “We’ve reached our goal! In the shortest telethon ever! In closing, remember:

When you walk through a storm,

keep your head up high…”

We sing loud. More quietly, some of the Crips in the audience join in.

“YOU’LL NEVER WALK ALONE!”

In the reverse telethon, what was a metaphor becomes plain, literal truth. “You’ll never walk alone!”

*   *   *

It’s over so fast. We haven’t even taken our bows, and Mr. Bob is standing in front of us. “Let’s clap for all of our performers—all the singers and dancers and actors—all who showed Camp Courage spirit tonight!”

They clap. The Honorable State Senator, the Jaycees, the Jaycee-ettes, the Jaycee children. Enthusiastically, almost gratefully, they do what Mr. Bob tells them to do. Then the Crips start to move, as we always move when the evening program is over. I see the surfer guy shaking the state senator’s hand and hear the senator’s heh-heh over the noise of the crowd. It is as though nothing has happened.

Head ’em up, Move ’em out. As Sue unlocks Sara’s brakes, she bends down so close that I can smell the shampoo in her hair. She speaks only to Sara. “I’m not saying a word tonight. Mr. Bob will talk to you in the morning.”

Sara smiles a satisfied smile. “Fine, fine. I’ll look forward to it.”

They’re trying to rush us out, but it’s impossible to rush this many cripples out of a room that has only one normal door. As we file past, Willie gives me a little poke. “Too cool! Speech therapy! You were just great.”