Antsy Floats by Neal Shusterman Page A

partially because of you.”
    â€œWell, I’m partially sorry,” I said like an idiot. “I mean, I’m fully sorry for my portion of it.”
    Lexie took a deep, shuddering breath and another breath that was smoother. “I’m so, so tired of being ‘the blind girl.’”
    â€œHey, technology is advancing and stuff,” I said. “Maybe someday you’ll be able to see.”
    â€œThat’s not what I mean!”
    I didn’t say anything else because if I was going to put any more feet in my mouth, I was gonna have to borrow someone else’s from down the hall.
    â€œBeing blind isn’t the problem,” she said. “It’s being seen as ‘the blind girl.’ When I asked you to take me to the dance, it was because you won’t treat me like a china doll. You won’t be afraid to bump into me or step on my feet.”
    â€œYeah, I’m pretty good at that.”
    â€œWhenever I walk into a room of strangers, I feel all those eyes on me. I can’t see, but I still feel those eyes; isn’t that funny? People see me, and they automatically make assumptions that set me apart from anyone else in the room. I used to like that when I was younger, but now I see it’s an awkward, lonely kind of attention. I want people to see me , not ‘the blind girl.’”
    â€œEven if you weren’t blind, I think you’d stand apart,” I told her. “But that’s a good thing. I mean, blind or not, you’re kind of . . . I don’t know . . . remarkable.”
    â€œRemarkable,” she repeated, but it came out bitter. “Yes, people make remarks about me all the time.”
    â€œThat’s not what I meant.”
    She reached over and put her hand on my knee, squeezing gently. “I know, Antsy.”
    We sat like that for a while listening to the whoosh of the ocean as the ship cut through the water.
    â€œI think I get it,” I said. “But I also get why it happens. It’s like we have to put people into boxes, because our brains aren’t big enough to make every person a person. So we put them all into boxes and then we get to decide whose box we’re going to open. We gotta be careful, though, because if we open everybody’s box, we’ll go crazy. So yeah, you’ll be ‘the blind girl’ and I’ll be ‘the obnoxious Italian guy’ to like ninety-nine percent of the people we meet. But to the one percent that opens our boxes, they get to hit the jackpot. Although they’ll probably return me for store credit.”
    She laughed a little, which was good. It meant there was another emotion there to fight against the tears. It occurred to me that she hadn’t asked me about where I’d been. I could have avoided the subject entirely, but somehow, I felt I owed her an explanation.
    â€œI couldn’t go to the dance because I’ve been hanging out with someone whose been causing me a lot of grief,” I told her. “But the thing is, this person needs my help.”
    She smiled, sought out my hand, and grasped it. “You’re good at that, Antsy. Helping people.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Everybody but myself. Anyway, it’s not what you think.”
    â€œYou don’t have to say any more. It’s none of my business.”
    â€œWell, it kinda is. I mean you’re expecting me to spend time with you on this cruise. Howie is expecting that, too, and I’ve been abandoning you both.” Then I thought of something that was sure to cheer her up. “But hey, when we get to Grand Cayman, you’ll get to hang with your parents, right? I know you’re looking forward to that.”
    She took her hand back from me at the mention of her parents and began to run her fingers along the levers and valves of her flute.
    â€œI was looking forward to it,” Lexie admitted, “but we just got word