Charlotte hates the leg brace. It's big, black, and gleaming, and it feels like a cage for her leg. She knows it makes her walk a little differently, has known ever since Tommy had laughed and called her "Stumpy" when she'd gotten up to give a presentation in math class. Tommy got sent to the principal, but Charlotte never forgot it, and she's sure the other kids haven't either.
"It's really going to help you," her mother says. "Just be patient, dear, I promise we'll make this work." She winks conspiratorially. "We've got science on our side."
Charlotte's not really sure what the older woman means by that, but she doesn't like science that much if it's responsible for her bad leg. Mother tells her she's a gift, a miracle child, but won't answer Charlotte's questions until she's older.
Charlotte thinks lots of things will be better when she's older as she watches the other children play. They've made her play tag with them, sometimes. The brunette looks down in shame as she remembers all the times she'd been the first tagged and tried and tried for what felt like hours to run and tag someone else, only to to fall on the ground and feel tears prick at her eyes.
She will never stop running as soon as she can, Charlotte decides. She imagines that it's almost like flying. And if the little girl is a miracle, surely she can have some angel wings.
…
AN: This work was immensely personal and based largely on my own experience. I did not wear leg braces but was born with a disabling condition that was surgically corrected when I was 8. I hope that, although short, this story is as meaningful for you as it is for me.