Dance, Belle, Dance!
My Sister’s Journey With ADHD
by
Beth Huffman
& Annabel
Copyright 2015 Beth Huffman and Annabel,
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by Certa Publishing
Converted by http://www.eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-0-9965-7131-9
Cover Design by Lacey Huffman
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the underdogs in life who struggle to be accepted and understood. It’s also dedicated to their families and their teachers who reach out and say, “We appreciate you.”
Preface
Dance, Belle, Dance! is a fictional story. The names, characters and events are all products of my imagination. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental. It’s also important to state this medical disclaimer. Nothing in this book is intended to take the place of professional advice. If you have concerns, please seek the assistance of a medical professional.
My three previous books are memoirs and I enjoyed writing them immensely. I never considered venturing into fiction, until I met and was inspired by my young friend, Annabel, who was born with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Together, we created Belle’s character that bears no resemblance to Annabel. While there is no correlation between the two, she was instrumental in helping me understand some of the struggles an individual goes through in living with the disorder. Without question, we could not have written this story without the enormous help and encouragement from Annabel’s parents and sister. Many thanks to each of you.
I love the cover of this book that was illustrated by my endearing daughter-in-law, Lacey Huffman. With a blank canvas, a brush and a palette of colors in hand, her artistry soared beyond my visions. She has poignantly captured Belle’s spirit and beauty. Thank you, Lacey. Should there be a sequel to this book, I appreciate knowing that you will be by my side.
I’d also like to thank my kind and patient friend, Elaine Mayberry, who said a year ago, “Sure! I’m in!” when I asked, “Would you consider being my sounding board if I try to write a fictional book and discover I don’t know how? It could involve a lengthy exchange of emails and a number of phone conversations where I whine about being lost.”
I was passionate about teaching middle school and high school language arts in the Cory-Rawson and Columbus Grove school systems. I loved and respected my students. I also respected my colleagues. In creating the elementary and middle school scenarios for this book, I asked myself what excellent teachers would do to help an underdog like Belle. These caring educators came to mind immediately: Jan Reichenbach, Joetta Rader, Joan Bauman, Jerrilyn Hughes, Jeanne Wert, Janet Schubert, Suzy Daley, Lisa Rigg, Deb Howe, Beth Fruchey and Vicki Hermiller.
Finally, I’d like to thank Beth Bishop and Herb Huffman. I met Beth in 1973 when she was teaching English and French at Cory-Rawson High School. Her former students would tell you that she was an inspirational teacher. She was also my inspirational mentor and will always be my dear friend. Then there is Herb Huffman who retired from the Ottawa-Glandorf school system after 35 years of devotion to his students. I’ve been married to this humble man for 42 years and he continues to beat me at Jeopardy every night.
Beth Ann Huffman
June 10, 2015
The Open House
I couldn’t wait to meet my 2nd grade teacher at the open house. Everyone in my family was ready to go except my sister. That was no surprise. We always have to wait on Belle. If that isn’t bad enough, she’s hyper and loud all the time. She has a way of turning things into disasters. I let Mom know that I wasn’t going to be late.
“Let’s go! Dad can bring Belle later.”
“Macey, run upstairs and check on her. She should have her clothes changed by now.”
“It isn’t my job to check on her. She’s been in her room an hour. We both know she isn’t ready. Do you even care if she ruins my night?”
“That’s enough, young lady. You’re not going to speak to me like that.”
I should have apologized but I didn’t. Instead, I ran from the kitchen and raced up the stairs. I didn’t think it was possible to be any madder than I was. Wrong! I blew up when I saw her fidgeting with all her socks that were scattered on the bedroom floor.
I screamed, “Are you kidding me? We need to go and you haven’t even changed your clothes yet! Why are you staring at your stupid socks?”
She wasn’t the least bit fazed. I could tell by the blank expression on her face. She looked up and said, “Macey, should I wear pink socks or blue socks?”
I jerked the pink ones from her hand. “Get on your bed now! I’m dressing you. If you’re going to act like a baby, then I’ll treat you like one.”
“I’m not either a baby. Say you’re sorry.”
“Shut up, Belle! I mean it. Hold still.”
Mom heard all the yelling. I thought sure she’d get mad at us for fighting but she didn’t. She was more upset when she saw the bed. It was covered with piles of clothes that Belle had pulled from her closet. She took a deep breath and said, “Dad’s waiting for us. Let’s go.”
I have to admit that I was squeezing Belle’s hand all the way to the car. That’s probably why she started crying. I didn’t care.
“Mom, Macey hurt my hand real bad. It’s all red. Is she in trouble?”
Dad cut her off. “That’s enough! You’re both going to be in trouble if I hear one more word. Belle, stop crying. You’re meeting your kindergarten teacher tonight. You don’t want Mrs. Heldman to see you in tears, do you?”
I wanted to say, “Nice job, Dad. You just asked Belle for her opinion. Haven’t you figured out by now that whatever she says won’t make sense?”
I knew she’d start whining. She sounded so clueless.
“No, I don’t want Mrs. Heldman to see me crying. I’m going to tell her that Macey hurt my hand on purpose. I think she broke it. She’s always mean to me. She said my socks are stupid. I think I hate her. I think I’m never talking to her again. She’s the worst sister in the world. I wish she’d move away.”
I looked out the window and tried not to laugh. When Mom turned around to make eye contact with her, I knew exactly what was coming. They were the rules that Belle wouldn’t follow.
