Dwarf: A Memoir by Tiffanie Didonato, Rennie Dyball Page A

with them all. And this was an
     activity I could do with a friend, and a place where I could belong. I was looking
     forward to the memories before I even got started. I couldn’t wait to wear— to
earn
— my team jacket.
    The sports medicine room was small, making it crowded for the half dozen students
     who waited around inside. The coach’s desk sat in the far corner of the room, and
     an ice machine rumbled next to it. Metal racks filled with supplies lined one orange-striped
     wall, while two wobbly padded beds and a small hot tub took up the remainder of the
     space.
    After a considerable wait and excited whispering among my classmates, Ms. Hart stomped
     into the room. She had long, thick legs and wild hair that ran down her back. Hauling
     an armful of files with a stiff, cold expression, she didn’t smile at any of us when
     she entered. But she did appear to size us up before she finally began speaking.
    “First thing all of you need to learn is how to rip tape,” she said through tight
     lips. No “hello,” no “welcome to the club.” Just instructions.
    Everything was strictly business. It never occurred to me to find that odd or take
     it personally. I assumed that was just her way. “When you’re out on the field, you’ll
     need to bandage an athlete quickly, and the faster you can rip tape, the better,”
     she said, picking up rolls of medical tape from the racks. “This is how you do it.”
    With her pointer finger and thumb pressed firmly on the edge of the tape, she tore
     off a piece in one swift movement.
    “Understand?” she asked, fixing her gaze on me. She tore another piece of tape, and
     then slapped it on her thigh. She tore over and over again, shredding through the
     roll with ease.
    “Go practice.”
    Megan and I grabbed some tape and stood by the two beds, where we decided to stick
     the torn pieces. For Megan, it was no problem tearing through the thick white roll.
     For me, it was a little harder. I could grip the roll, but pulling it and tearing
     with enough dexterity to quickly rip the tape was not happening. My little hands didn’t
     have the strength.
    “Come on, Tiff. I’m beating you,” Megan joked, sticking her fifth piece of tape on
     the edge of the bed. She was only kidding, but I envied the ease with which she completed
     the activity. Not to mention the ease of just being her. Megan always wore her blond
     hair in a ponytail, pulled halfway through the elastic. Her bangs were neatly curled
     with a blow-dryer and round brush— the premier style of the mid-’90s. She wore easy-fitting
     clothes, like a T-shirt and jeans, paired with big, silver hoop earrings. Her style
     reflected her personality, and her big, confident smile made her inviting. Megan was
     not a girly girl. She was easygoing, fun, and athletic. I wished I could be more like
     her.
    As I stood there trying to figure a way to catch up, something shiny caught my eye:
     a pair of medical scissors hanging on a little hook behind mountains of gauze.
    “Oh, really?” I shot back to Megan, already confident that I’d found a way to win.
    I grabbed the scissors with a smile and began to cut the tape as quickly as she tore.
     I’d watched nurses do this on many an occasion when I was in the hospital, so I knew
     what I was doing. And I did it well.
    Soon Megan and I were even, and I felt like a pro. Like Ibelonged. Megan and I giggled our way through two rolls of tape, and in the midst
     of our race, I thought I noticed Ms. Hart scowling at me. I pressed on anyway.
    Then we moved on to a new task.
    “Not everything you deal with on the field will be easy,” Ms. Hart said.
    She narrowed her stare in my direction. I pretended not to notice.
    “When there’s an injury, we apply ice. Sometimes the ice feels worse than the injury,
     but our job is to make sure they keep it on their bodies. How can we tell them to
     do this if we don’t know what it feels like? For five minutes you are all going