My Life as a Cartoonist by Janet Tashjian

swerve the wheelchair to the right, up a sidewalk ramp—finally—that leads to the top of my street.
    momentarily
    I race the three blocks to my road, praying my mom’s home. I push the wheelchair up the steep hill of my driveway—good to go down on skateboards, not so good for shoving wheelchairs—and screech to a halt outside the back door. I hurry into the kitchen, leaving Bodi momentarily with Umberto.
    â€œMom!” I yell. “It’s Bodi!”
    My mom grabs her glasses from the counter and hurries outside. She nods to Umberto and gently takes Bodi. As I follow her into her office on the other side of the driveway, I realize Umberto’s still in his chair by the kitchen door.
    I grasp the handles of his wheelchair and lift him backward up the three steps to my mother’s office, praying we got here in time.

Please Be Okay
    examination
    My mother works quietly and efficiently as she checks Bodi. I have a zillion questions but I know enough not to bother her while she’s performing an examination.
    Umberto seems to take the whole thing in, watching my mother as she inspects Bodi’s tongue and eyes.
    â€œLooks like he had a seizure,” she says. “It’s too soon to see if there’ll be permanent damage.”
    She leans in close to Bodi and pets him tenderly. It’s not just because he’s our dog—I’ve seen her do this to all her animal patients.
    â€œIs he going to be okay?” Umberto asks.
    â€œWe’ll need to keep our eye on him,” Mom answers. “But hopefully, yes.”
    gracious
    In all the commotion, I realize I haven’t introduced my mother to Umberto. I can tell from her expression she just figured out Umberto must be the kid who’s been terrorizing me. She’s too gracious to say anything now, but I know she’ll grill me for information the second Umberto leaves.
    â€œSometimes animals go into shock afterward,” my mom says. “It’s a good thing you got him here quickly.”
    I tell my mom the only reason we got here so fast is that Umberto let us use his wheels.
    â€œThere are only a few benefits to being in a wheelchair, and racing at top speed is one of them,” Umberto says with a smile.
    Bodi seems to be okay, resting on the carpet. I wait until my mother leaves the room before I ask Umberto why he helped me.
    obnoxious
    He looks at me as if the answer is obvious. “Like I’m going to sit there and watch a dog die. What kind of obnoxious creep do you think I am?”
    I don’t answer the question. After a few minutes Umberto starts laughing.
    â€œOkay, maybe I have ranked pretty high on the obnoxious scale. But doing nothing while an animal’s in distress? That’s not me.”
    My mother hands us two bottles of water and a container of chocolate-covered almonds from the office kitchen. She also feeds Minnie a dog biscuit on her way back to the house. Minnie has a field day sniffing around the many pet smells in the waiting room. I pet him for a few minutes so he doesn’t feel threatened.
    chaotic
    Underneath the shock and upset of this chaotic day, something nags at me. I take a large gulp of water before asking the question I’ve wondered about for a long time. “Why have you been such a jerk to me?”
    Umberto shrugs, which makes me feel angry all over again, as if this afternoon never happened. “Don’t take it personally,” he finally says.
    â€œIt’s hard not to take it personally when you’ve made a mission out of bullying me.”
    â€œWow. You think I’m a bully? Really?” Umberto actually seems surprised.
    â€œWhat would YOU call it?”
    Umberto’s tone is now apologetic. “I guess I have been. I’m really sorry.”
    I wait for him to say more, and after a few moments, he does. “I got picked on a lot at my last school. I definitely didn’t want to come here and turn into