Midnight Sun by Trish Cook
1
I have this recurring dream: I’m a little girl, sitting with my mom, and she’s singing to me. We’re at the beach on an old blanket I still have tucked away in my closet. I hear the waves crashing as my mom’s voice rises and falls. I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin and the comfort of her arms around me.
I want to stay in this moment forever.
When I wake up, I miss the dream. I miss the sun. I miss my mom.
I want so badly for this dream to be real, but that would be impossible because my mom died when I was six years old.
And I can’t go out into the sun… like, at all. I have a rare genetic condition called xeroderma pigmentosum, aka XP, which basically means a severe sensitivity to sunlight. If sunlight so much as glances off my skin, I’ll get skin cancer, and my body can’t repair the damage so my brain starts to fail—which could mean hearing loss, difficulty walking and swallowing, movement problems, loss of intellectual function and capacity for speech, seizures, and, oh yeah, death.
Pretty fun, right?
So I spend my days indoors, hanging out with my dad (truly the best dad ever) and Morgan (truly the best friend ever).
Morgan and I used to pretend that I was like Rapunzel from Tangled, hidden away in my darkened tower (bedroom). We watched that movie about a hundred times when it came out. Rapunzel finally went stir-crazy and broke out of there with some dude. Now that I’m older, I completely and totally relate, girl.
I guess if there’s one other thing I have in common with Rapunzel, it’s that I’m going to have to keep the faith and keep on fighting until I get my happily ever after. Mine might not be destined to last as long as other people’s—but that doesn’t mean it will be any less awesome.
2
There I go, rambling again. It’s a habit that gets me in trouble sometimes. You’ll see. For now, let me back up and start from the beginning.
Hi! I’m Katie Price, and I guess from the outside looking in—if you could actually see in my windows, which you can’t, thanks to the solar shades that block every bit of UV light from getting in my house—you might think I’m some pathetic sick girl who’s always staring out the window watching life go by. But I’m actually just like everyone else, with the major exception of the “can’t go out in the sun” thing.
I play guitar and write lyrics and poetry and think I sound awesome when I sing in the shower. I love astronomy and hope to be an astrophysicist someday. I hate brussels sprouts, love Chinese food, think pugs are the most adorable dogs on the planet, and get freaked out by spiders. My best friend—let’s face it, my only IRL friend other than my dad (okay, that right there just made me sound truly sad, right?)—Morgan, kicks butt and would for sure kick your butt if you don’t agree.
And, oh yeah, I just so happen to have an enormous crush on a guy named Charlie Reed. Ever since I got banished to this house during daylight hours by my XP diagnosis in first grade, I’ve watched him pass by my window on his way to school. Over time, watching Charlie go by became a part of my routine. Along with constant doctor appointments, sleeping during the day and staying up all night—which from what I hear is the dream schedule of most kids my age—and playing music. During the week, he’s the last person I see every morning before I go to sleep and the first person I see every afternoon when I wake up. While I’m getting my “night’s” sleep, he goes off to school and swim practice. He’s living his normal, perfect life. He’s basically grown up right in front of my eyes and gotten cuter with every year. He’s a senior now, tall and lanky with gorgeous floppy hair and eyes that could melt an iceberg faster than global warming. The only thing standing in the way of our great love affair is… he has no idea I even exist.
When he dragged our trash can out of the street after a windy night—after literally everyone else just walked by it—he didn’t know I was watching. When he stopped to help Mrs. Graham from across the street with her groceries. I’ve seen the thoughtful little things he does, even when he thinks no one is around to notice.
It’s not like I can just walk out my door one morning and casually bump into him on the street because then I’d fry to death. (Don’t worry—it wouldn’t happen that fast. But, trust me, it wouldn’t be pretty.) I would be lying if I said I didn’t fantasize about one day making a grand gesture, though. Like, I don’t know, bang on the window when I see him. Wave him into the house (when my dad’s not looking, I guess). Invite him upstairs. (Where my dad won’t follow us? Ha! Let me dream.) Run my fingers through that gorgeous hair. Kiss him.
Fine. Not going to happen. I know.
I’ll just watch him like I always have (in a totally noncreepy way!)—at least until that unfortunately placed tree blocks my view—and wish him well on the stars when they come out tonight. Wish that he’s happy to be graduating high school today and that he’s headed for a life full of excitement and adventure. That he gets everything he ever dreamed of. He deserves it. We all do. My biggest wish (to have a normal life—trying not to be bitter here) will never come true, but I sure hope Charlie’s does.
I open my laptop to watch the live stream of what would have been my graduation, too. That is, if I hadn’t been homeschooled since first grade. It’s a little anticlimactic for me, seeing as I’ve already accumulated enough online credits to be a college sophomore at this point. What can I say? I like learning. Plus, I’ve got a lot more time on my hands than most kids.