My best friend Emma approaches me on the first day of school. I stop pushing the wheelchair in front of me and face her, resting my arms on the back of the chair.

“Not yet,” I answer. “I want this to be one we’ll really remember, since it’s our 16th. But so far, I haven’t had any great ideas. With Paul, the options are kind of—”

“—limited?” Emma finishes.

“Yeah,” I sigh and pat my brother on the shoulder.

In two weeks, Paul and I will turn 16. I’ll be getting my driver’s license and, with it, a little more freedom. And Paul will be getting . . . another year in his wheelchair.

Party Planning
My brother has cerebral palsy. He’s in a wheelchair because he can’t walk. He can’t talk either. I know that some people think just because he doesn’t speak out loud, he doesn’t think, either. The doctors tell us there’s really no way to know how much Paul can or can’t understand. They say some people with CP actually think normally; it’s the body itself that doesn’t quite work right. But they say there are others who have damage on the inside as well as the outside. There’s just no way to know for sure.

But I know. I can tell when I look into his eyes that he understands. He understands family, and he understands friends. He understands school, and he understands home. He understands that even though he and I are different, we’re still the same.

I love my brother, but growing up with him hasn’t always been easy. When we were younger, the differences between us never seemed to matter much. But the older we get, the harder they are to ignore. There are times when I want to hang out with my friends and to do things that Paul just can’t. I like swimming, ice-skating and just walking in general. Paul can’t do any of that.

Emma clears her throat, bringing me back to reality. “Well, you could have your party at my house. We could use the swimming pool. We might even be able to get Paul into the shallow end with some help.” I look at my brother, and he looks at me. “I don’t know . . . do you think that would be fun, Paul?”

He smiles at me and blinks. I turn back to Emma.

“I guess that would work. Why not?” I smile.

With that settled, I turn to walk to my first class and nearly run into Andrew Samson, our school’s basketball star and most beautiful guy.

“Oh! Uh . . . s-sorry. Umm, An-Andrew, right?” I stutter in what I hope is a convincingly innocent voice.

“That’s OK. And you’re Sara?” he smiles.

“I think so. I mean, yes, it’s . . . that’s right.” I mentally berate myself for not having more composure.

“So, how was your summer, Sara?” Andrew asks.

Sara. Sara. That was my name.

“It was fine. How was yours?” I try to pull myself together.

“Pretty boring.” He looks at Paul, then back at me. “Hey, how’s your brother? I think I saw him at the library a couple of times with your dad.”

Andrew Samson went to the library? I make a mental note to visit the library more.

“Oh—Paul. Yeah, he’s fine. We have a birthday next week.”

“Really? You having a party or anything?”

“Yeah, a pool party at Emma’s house. You can come, if you want.”

“A pool party?” He frowns slightly. “Can Paul swim?”

“Well, not really. But—”

“Do you guys lift him into the water? Or does he just not get in? You know, they have this thing at the YMCA, like a mechanical lift that helps handicapped . . . I mean, um, special . . . kids get in the pool.”

The more Andrew talks, the more uncomfortable I get. It’s bad enough seeing strangers on the street stare at Paul any time we walk—and roll—by. But now, it felt even more personal. This was someone I actually liked, someone I wanted to impress.

“Yeah. No, we don’t have one of those.” I hesitate for a moment, then rush on. “Actually, this party is just for me and my friends. Paul won’t be there.”

I don’t know what made me say it. As soon as the words are out, I wish I could take them back. But it’s too late. I chance a sideways look at Paul. He turns his head away from me and closes his eyes.

“Oh, OK,” Andrew responds.

“So, do you think you’ll come?” I ask nervously.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Andrew winks as he walks away.

A flurry of excitement fills my heart, but it is immediately followed by a sinking feeling. How am I going to explain this to my parents—and to Paul?

Party for One
That evening, I approach my mom and dad about the party.

“So, I had sort of thought that maybe the party at Emma’s could be just for my friends and me.”

Dad looks up from the roast beef he is carving, and Mom drops her dishtowel.

“You what?” Her voice has taken on a chilly tone.

“Well, I just—” I hesitate.

“You don’t want your brother at your birthday party?” Dad asks. “Your twin brother? Your twin brother who has the same birthday as you?”

“Don’t make it sound like that!” I say defensively. “It’s not like I won’t see him. We’ll still have the morning as a family, and then—”

“And then you’ll just abandon him?” Mom’s voice is more than just chilly now; it’s positively icy.

“No, Mom! I’m not abandoning him! I just want—I just need—a break.”

“Then you explain it to your brother,” Mom says, as she leaves the room.

As the date of the party arrives, the tension between my parents and me is still there. I know that to an extent, they can understand my wanting to spend some time alone with my friends, as any girl with a brother does. But Paul’s situation makes everything different. And, as my mother has told me, it is my job to explain that to him.

I sit facing Paul’s wheelchair, unsure of what to say. Most people would have told me that my words won’t matter, because he won’t understand them anyway. But I believe differently. So I try to be honest.

“It’s not that I don’t want you there. It’s just that—you’re always there.”

Paul stares at me, his mouth slightly open and his expression unchanging.

“You know I love you,” I continue. “And I’d never want anyone else for a brother. This party is just something I want to do.” I stand up to give Paul a kiss on the cheek. “It probably won’t even be any fun,” I add, though I’m not sure exactly whom I was trying to reassure.

Best Birthday Present
When I arrive at the party, I’m still feeling guilty. But when I see Andrew Samson walk in, my heart skips a beat, and I forget about everything else.

“Happy birthday, Sara,” he smiles. “Here, I got you a present.”

“Thanks,” I say with surprise as I accept the box from him. I unwrap it and see a jeweled picture frame.

“I hope you can use it,” he says. “Girls like pictures, right?” he smiles.

“Definitely.”

I think about all of the pictures of Paul and me in my room at home. Suddenly I realize what a hypocrite I am. I get furious if anyone so much as implies that my brother is unintelligent, or unaware or unwanted. But what had I said by my actions when I left him out of my birthday party? I had thought that I could justify my behavior by my need to fit in and to feel normal around the guy I liked. But it wasn’t necessary. And even if it had been necessary, it wasn’t worth it.

“Is something wrong?” Andrew asks.

“Actually, yes, it is,” I admit. “I miss my brother. It’s my fault he’s not here.”

“Well, then,” Andrew smiles, “let’s go get him!”

Bringing Paul to the party is the highlight of the day, by far. And it isn’t because I got to ride in a car with Andrew Samson. It is because I have finally and unconditionally accepted my brother for who he is and also accepted that he is a huge part of who I am, too. I think that was probably the best birthday present I could have asked for.