“She’s going to be okay,” she whispers into my hair. But she’s not. Mom knows it. I know it. Aunt June knows it. The doctor seems to know it. And I can tell Win does too. The only one who seems not to know yet is Caleb, who, despite only leaving our house two hours ago, has already sent me a research paper discussing new and improved techniques for treating ALS and has asked his mother to contact a friend of a friend’s husband who works out of some special research clinic in Toronto.
