Painless by S. A. Harazin

inappropriate. I didn’t mean anything by it. I only liked the feel of a lamb against my skin. School was awful after that. The kids—and my friends—somehow found out what happened and called me “freak” and “pervert.” I got into a lot of fights. I bled a lot.
    Nana and Grandpa fought for me. They tried to explain why touch was so important for me. But the thing is, what’s best for me didn’t fit the school policies. The school wanted me in special ed. Grandpa decided to hire tutors. He said it was cheaper paying for the best teachers than risking my future.
    At the DMV, I flunk my road exam. I bet I’m the only person in the world who failed the test. I was nervous. I only shake my head when I walk out of the DMV.
    “Sorry,” Spencer says.
    I smile at him, and he places his arm across my shoulder. I don’t look his way again as we head slowly to the car with Nana pushing her walker next to me. What if I fail at everything else on my bucket list? Walking between the two of them, I’m feeling like I’m smothering in a box and can’t get out. I shove Spencer’s arm off my shoulders and walk ahead of them.
    “It’s not the end of the world,” Spencer calls to me.
    He’s right. I’ll be seeing the world from the balcony at Twin Falls.
    On the way to the cemetery, I’m thinking nothing can turn me into a normal person: not a license or a car, or even a mom or a dad or a girlfriend or a million dollars.
    Spencer turns into the gravel parking lot between the two-hundred-year-old church—no longer used except for a few community events—and the small cemetery, the final resting place for Grandpa’s family, which includes a few soldiers, farmers, a teacher, a doctor, and four children. Before Grandpa died, we’d come here for picnics.
    Oak trees shade the cemetery. There aren’t any other cars or people around. It’s so quiet I can hear the grass growing.
    Spencer stays in the car texting Cass. They text each other all the time. I don’t know how Spencer gets anything done.
    “Need help?” I ask Nana as she gets out of the car. She shakes her head and says she doesn’t need help to go to the bathroom. I watch her as she pushes her walker to the church door.
    “I’ll keep an eye on her,” Spencer says.
    I walk over to Grandpa’s grave and say hello to him. His headstone reads Return to sender . That was his idea.
    “What’s new? How are things on the farm?” I ask.
    I give him time to send me some sort of sign. I don’t see anything different except a squirrel in the oak tree.
    “I flunked my driving test today,” I say. “I couldn’t parallel park. I kept backing over the orange cone, and the examiner laughed at me. If you get bored, feel free to haunt him. Nana is okay, and she’s planning to head to the farm soon. I’m going to be fine.” I see her coming my way. Spencer’s helping her walk with the walker.
    Next I walk over to Noel Peeples’ grave. She never has flowers or visitors.
    Then I go see Seth and say hello. Somebody’s left him a teddy bear.
    Leaning against a tree trunk, I watch Nana bend over Grandpa’s grave, her long, white hair falling in front of her face. She talks for longer than usual. I watch a squirrel watching me. I’m glad it isn’t a zombie. You can imagine anything in a cemetery, especially when you want to forget failing.
    Nana’s grave site is next to Grandpa’s. My grave site is next to hers. I don’t like to look at mine.
    Grandpa had a heart problem, and whenever he had chest pain, he’d take a nitroglycerin pill under his tongue. Afterward he’d get a headache from the medicine. I was amazed that one tiny white pill could cause so much pain.
    One afternoon I was sitting on his bed. I tried one of the pills to make myself get a headache. It didn’t work, so I tried another one. It didn’t do anything.
    I stood to put the pills away, and that’s all I remember. The next thing I knew, paramedics were putting me onto a stretcher and