“So is Hutch your first name or your last?”

It comes out sounding rude, but I don’t mean it to. It’s a reflex. Teachers bring out the worst in me.

He laughs, though, and rubs the back of his head. It’s shaved in that way guys do when they don’t want people to know they’re losing their hair. “Neither, actually. Hutchinson is my last name. Jim is my first.”

“Well, I go by Ellie.”

“All right, Ellie. Good to know.”

I start to rock back and forth. It’s a thing I do when I’m fidgety. Mom hates it.

“Well, Ellie, I better get back to these mats. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mr. Hutchinson, Hutch, turns with a wave, and I head back toward the office. PE back home meant private sessions with the school’s physical therapist—lots of stretching on yoga balls and torture in the gait trainer. What’s it going to mean here? Hutch seems nice enough and all, but do they actually expect me to change for gym? Am I supposed to play dodgeball?

When I meet Mom outside the office and we go back out into the cold, she’s shaking her head and there are now sticky notes on top of her file in a rainbow of colors.

“They’ve never had to do an individualized plan before for someone with a physical disability. Can you believe that?”

In this school, yes, I can.

“But they’re making one for you. Mrs. Rutherford’s tough, but I think she’ll fight for you.”

We get to the van and there’s a parking ticket on it. Mom looks at it for about three seconds and then she rips it in half.

“Mom, stop! You can’t do that!”

While she’s buckling me in, I add, “And not everything has to be a fight.”

She looks me in the eye. “But I need you safe. I need you healthy, happy, and safe.”

There it is again. Her favorite saying.

“I am healthy and safe.”

“What about happy?”

“TBD.”

She gets in the front seat and studies me in the rearview mirror. She looks so serious I can’t stand it.

“Just kidding, Mom! JK! JK! I’m just messing with you.”

She shakes her head and starts counting things off on her fingers. “All the classes are on the first floor.”

“I know.”

“And you are required to be present for gym class. But we’re still figuring out what that looks like. Mr. Hutchinson will be your gym teacher, and I’ve got a phone call scheduled with him in the morning after I drop you off.”

“What do you mean, when you drop me off?” I thought I was riding the bus.

We’ve left the school behind and Mom is already speeding. Because of all her negotiating, we’re going to be late for Grandpa’s doctor’s appointment.