The midterm for AP US History was to be a presentation on the historical importance of one major event that took place during twentieth century America. I wasn’t sure how my half of the presentation was going to go in sign language, since I was definitely not going to use my voice for this. It was nerve-wracking enough giving a presentation if your hearing worked perfectly.

“Sure,” I said to Nina. “We could do that.”

“Great!” Nina said, smiling all big. “Want to . . . my place?”

Going to Nina’s house was the better alternative than her coming over to mine. Most of the unpacking was done, but Connor was still struggling to adjust. Moving to a higher elevation made it harder for him to get enough oxygen, which meant he now had to be on oxygen 24/7, and he did not like that one bit. He was grumpy most of the time now since being put on oxygen, kicking up a minor fuss whenever we had to change his oxygen tanks or get him a new cannula.

When we were at home, he attached himself to my hip and wanted to watch cartoons. This made it a little difficult to get homework or chores done, but I would do anything to make sure Connor got some peaceful rest. If that meant staying up late to finish my homework, I had no problem making more than one pot of coffee in the morning.

Not that I thought any of this would bother Nina, but still, not a great work environment for midterms.

SURE, I signed to Nina.

“I’ll . . . my address,” Nina said, tapping her phone, and I nodded.

Nina and I texted a lot, mostly about homework and class assignments, but we did find enjoyment going off on tangents over how ridiculous our classmates could be or college plans after graduation. She’d been nothing but supportive when I told her I was determined to get into the best respiratory therapy program possible.

It took me far longer than I would’ve liked to write my letter of intent to include in my application to Cartwright, but Mrs. Stephens was pleased with the result. We’d submitted the finished application this past week, and I was thinking I wouldn’t get a good night’s rest until I received a response from the admissions office. It was probably a good thing I had midterms to obsess over.

My gaze fell on Beau as I picked at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I brought from home. Jackson was sitting next to Beau like always, chatting about whatever it was the school’s baseball star and his friend did, but Beau didn’t seem to be paying attention to him at all. He was fiddling with his sandwich wrapper, and by the way his lips were only moving once in a while, he was giving Jackson one-word responses.