I hadn’t rubbed his back in at least a year.“Sure, mom.”As usual, he was naked in bed, although covered by the sheet and bedspread. I pulled the...covers down to his waist, sat on the edge of the bed as he rolled over onto his tummy, and began to massage his shoulders.His shoulders were still thin, but I felt muscles beginning to grow. His biceps, too. My fingertips grazed his shoulder blades, caressing them, then pressed down on his lower back. I massaged this area for a few minutes, took a deep. He was good at hopping. He’d done that thousands of times. He ended up back in his chair, looking up at her out of that half twisted, half normal face.Her initial horror of the scarecrow looking thing that flapped its arms as it hopped around her was mitigated by the voice of her little brother in that scarecrow image.Then, as he sat again, staring at her, she was struck by the fact that both of his eyes looked the same. The one staring at her from the dead mask on the left of his head was just. More

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