The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

We didn’t go to church. We ended up on the floor in front of the fire, wrapped
in blankets Jamie dragged down the stairs. All of us. I don’t know how long I
screamed and flailed. I don’t know how long Susan restrained me. I kicked
her and scratched her and probably would have bitten her, but she held on. I
don’t know what Jamie did, other than bring down the blankets. Susan
wrapped me in one, rolled me up tight, and the panic started to ease. “That’s
it,” Susan croaked. “Shh. Shh. You’re okay.”
I was not okay. I would never be okay. But I was too exhausted to scream
anymore.
When I woke, the first rays of winter sunlight were coming through the
window onto the little Christmas tree. The coal embers shone dully beneath a
layer of ashes. Jamie slept wrapped in a blanket with Bovril’s face peeping
out beneath his chin. Susan snored gently. One of her arms was flung up,
under her ear; the other still rested across me. Her hair had come out of its
bun and was sticking out in all directions. She had a long red furrow down
one cheek from where I’d scratched her, and her blouse—her best blouse—
had a rip at the shoulder and a button hanging by a thread. She looked like
she’d been in a war.
I was so completely wound in a gray blanket that I could only move my
head. I turned it from side to side, looking first at Jamie, then at Susan, then at
the little Christmas tree. Susan would be angry when she woke. She would be
furious, because I’d screamed about the dress, because I hadn’t been grateful,
because I’d messed up her plans. We hadn’t gone to church because of me.
My stomach worked itself into a knot. She would be angry. She would hit
—no. She wouldn’t hit me. She hadn’t, at least not so far. She hadn’t hit me
once the night before, not even when I’d hurt her. She’d wrapped me up and
held me tight.
I didn’t know what to do. Susan was temporary. My foot was permanent. I
lay in the weak sunshine and wanted to weep instead of scream. But I almost
never cried. What was wrong with me now?
Jamie stirred. He opened his eyes and smiled—smiled his beautiful smile.
All of my life I would remember the sweetness of that smile. “Good morning,
Ada,” Jamie said. “Merry Christmas.”