Extraordinary by Amanda McGee Read Free Book Online

my heart breaking, knowing that Sadie never would.
    I ignored my distaste for emotional contact and put my arm around her shoulders. Even when she cried she seemed somehow upbeat. Sadie’s presence would change me and, surprisingly, I welcomed it.
    Personally, I do not care to wear my heart on my sleeve. Sadie, on the other hand, wore hers as an entire outfit. Something about that struck me as admirable rather than my typical reaction of pathetic. I didn’t anticipate crying on anyone’s shoulder anytime soon, but a possible attempt at showing a little affection was not out of the question with Sadie by my side.
    “She sounds like a special lady,” she said, wiping her eyes.
    “You remind me of her.”
    Sadie’s face lit up like the morning horizon. Her tears became a joyful grin.
    “Tell me about her,” she said.
    “She was kind. Thoughtful. I never saw her without a smile on her face. Now that I know what she went through, aside from the cancer, which still didn’t fade her happiness, I cannot imagine how she managed it.”
    I shared any story I could think of, from Mom’s elaborate birthday parties where she made us all dress-up in costumes to how she would ride her bicycle more than she drove her car. As I spoke my sentences began to mirror Sadie’s and ran together.
    Sadie particularly enjoyed the story of one balmy summer night when the heat became too much to bear. Mom found an old tarp, squirted dish detergent all over it, and sprayed it with the water hose. The two of us slid and slipped our way up and down that tarp until we were covered in aches and bubbles.
    “That sounds like something we would’ve done at my house.”
    “It’s amazing how even though we were separated our lives played out oddly the same.”
    “Everything happens for a reason, Alex. Now it feels like our lives are upside down but up until a few days ago we believed our lives to be normal.”
    “For the most part.”
    “Out of curiosity, was she sad because...he was gone?” she asked. “Was she sad for any of us?”
    “If she ever cried, I never saw it,” I said. “I knew it had to be painful but she never showed it. It’s easier in hindsight to see things a certain way but at the time I never saw blatant sadness from her.”
    Talking about my mother was easier than predicted. Perhaps my trouble in talking about her stemmed less from grief and more from not having the appropriate audience. With Sadie, the thoughts and memories rolled off my tongue as if I were reading them from a book.
    Ahh, the book.
    We had ignored the magical and potentially dangerous elephant in the room for as long as possible. I held up my index finger, signaling that I would return. My haste to recover the journal and discover Sadie’s reaction involved two very graceless stumbles up the stairs and one slide toward the front door.
    “Open this,” I said, panting harder than I should have been.
    Without hesitation she flipped it open to the first page. I held my breath, nervous for what was to come despite knowing the answer. I was dizzy, craving validation and oxygen. Just like when I opened it, the words revealed themselves page by page.
    “Whoa, what is this?” she asked.
    “Mom wrote in this journal up until the day she died,” I answered. “The words are visible if you or I open it. I tested it with my friend, Kate. She can see the words once they are there but I have to make them appear.”
    “I guess this magic stuff isn’t so farfetched after all,” Sadie said with great conviction. “It’s fascinating, don’t you think? Not only do we have family but we have magic, too.”
    Sadie never suffered a moment of doubt. Her belief in our supernatural tale was instantaneous.
    Her optimism was contagious yet again. Although it was clear that we operated with opposite sides of our brains, her point of view was refreshing. My overdrawn, often cynical viewpoints rarely led to anything helpful or entertaining.
    “I can’t imagine your