I don’t show how I truly feel, though. Even when Logan makes a point of bringing up how much it hurt when I whacked his knees on the ramp that day.

I do not point out that he was the one who got all up in my space in the first place.

I do not knock him down and then leave tire marks up and down his scrawny self.

I am calm. Mature.

When nobody else is looking, Devontae makes a funny face at me behind Logan’s back, and my angry thoughts all sort of melt away. Halfway, at least.

During study hall, Dawn and I go to the office so Ms. Hernandez and Dr. Grayling can fill me in on details about the fundraiser.

“Emelyn!” Dr. Grayling says, waving us into the conference room. “Exciting things in the works, yes?”

Since I don’t exactly know what’s in the works, I look over at Ms. Hernandez for a cue.

“This is very exciting, Emmie,” she says, smiling. “How did I not know you were working on earning yourself a new chair?”

They lay it out for me. The fundraiser will be in two weeks. Basically, the same fall carnival the junior high has every year, with an extra raffle that people can donate things for. All the money from the carnival and raffle will go toward buying my chair. Once I tell them how much I’ve already saved for it, the amount left to raise actually doesn’t feel overwhelming.

It’s all a bit surreal. Like something you talk about, daydream about, but never actually expect to become real. My brain is racing ahead of me, imagining what it will feel like to finally have a high-tech chair built for flying down inclines and hurtling over jumps.

It’s going to feel like freedom, that’s what.

Then Dr. Grayling adds, “And of course, there will be a media push beforehand. To generate public interest and whatnot.”

“Media push?” I repeat. I hope that doesn’t mean what it sounds like.

But it does.

The school has already reached out to the local news stations, I learn. I seriously wish they hadn’t done that without asking me first. Or Dad, at least, and I think he’d have mentioned something like that.

“It’ll be fantastic publicity.” Dr. Grayling leans forward, talking a little faster, excited. “Wonderful optics for the school, a worthy cause. I’d call it a win-win.”

I look at Ms. Hernandez. She’s nodding and smiling like Dr. Grayling just said the weather forecast guarantees a week of perfect beach days. She and my mom may not have always agreed on exactly what was best for me when it came to services at school, but I know she’s always been basically in my corner on most things.

“Okay,” I tell them. “Sounds cool. I’ll fill Dad in.”

“Perfect.” Dr. Grayling beams.

Soon Dawn and I are headed back up the hall to catch the tail end of my study period. “What do you think?” Dawn asks. She’s clearly excited, and I remember she was the one who got all this started in the first place.