A car accident when I was little robbed my left leg of sensation, leaving me reliant on a pair of crutches. Back then, Mom and Dad comforted me beside my hospital bed as I wept until my eyes were swollen. They told me it wouldn't matter even if I lost a leg. As long as I behaved, they would treat my sister and me equally and fairly. I believed them, clinging tightly to Mom as tears slid down my cheeks. In sixth grade, my parents signed my sister and me up for a track meet at the same time. My sister came in third, while I fell hard on the track and couldn't even finish the race. Everyone there laughed at me, the cripple who had dared to think she could compete. That evening, my sister wore the clothes my parents
