The running dream

Review by Booklist Review

Sixteen-year-old Jessica is the track team's star sprinter until tragedy strikes: the team van is struck, killing one runner and demolishing Jessica's right leg. The book begins with Jessica refusing to acknowledge the result: a stump. But she is slowly reintroduced to life, which involves being fitted for a prosthesis, returning to school, and dealing with the usual tough teachers, mean girls, and one really hot, sensitive, supportive boy. It's a classic problem novel in a lot of ways; accordingly, Van Draanen inserts setbacks with narrative precision, the most affecting of which (surprisingly) is the insurance battle that Jessica's parents face. Overall, though, this is a tremendously upbeat book, with Jessica's family, friends, and community coming together (the track team raises funds to buy Jessica a $20,000 running leg). Even a subplot involving Jessica's friendship with the cerebral palsy-afflicted Rosa is not as treacly as it could have been. Van Draanen's extensive research into both running and amputees pays dividends readers will truly feel what it's like to walk (or run) a mile (or 10) in Jessica's shoes.--Kraus, Daniel Copyright 2010 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 7 Up-Jessica has run her personal best at a track meet-then there's a tragic bus accident and the high school junior loses her leg as well as her future dreams. From waking up in the hospital and coping with the trauma, to her return home, then school, she tries to grab her life back. On one level the story offers inspiration to those dealing with physical changes in their own lives and the stages of recovery, fight, survival, and victory as Jessica reaches deep to push past her wall of self-pity and loathing, and moves beyond the "finish line." On a deeper level, there is her blind discrimination toward a fellow classmate who has cerebral palsy. Rosa is hard to understand and easy to ignore. She is anchored to a wheelchair. Jessica, encumbered by her crutches and her tender "stump," is seated in the back of the class, out of the way, next to Rosa. She learns that the girl is smart, wise, and friendly. They pass notes and share lunch. Rosa writes, "I wish people would see me and not my condition." When Jessica is running again-on a specially engineered prosthesis-she challenges herself to help her friend be seen. How Jessica orchestrates putting Rosa in the forefront of a community race and pushing her wheelchair across a finish line is a study in faith and determination. Readers will cheer for Jessica's recovery and be reminded to recognize people for their strengths and not overlook them because of their disabilities.-Alison Follos, North Country School, Lake Placid, NY (c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Horn Book Review

Van Draanen, author of the popular Sammy Keyes and Shredderman series, here writes a thoroughly researched realistic novel about a teen athlete who suddenly finds her life irrevocably changed by an accident. Readers meet Jessica in the hospital, beginning the agonizing recovery from a bus crash in which she lost her leg. Doctors keep telling Jessica how lucky she is to have lost her leg below the knee, but of course she does not feel lucky at all. Very short chapters narrated in the first person show Jessica's gradual adjustment and healing day by day, the structure underlining one of the book's central themes -- that everything difficult in life is accomplished one moment at a time. Since it is clear from the beginning that Jessica is a resilient young woman with a lot of support, the story doesn't have much dramatic tension, but Van Draanen delivers an abundance of interesting medical detail and emotional authenticity in this accessible and inspirational novel. susan dove lempke (c) Copyright 2011. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

A girl learns to run again in this inspirational story of recovery from a terrible accident and from insensitivity. Sixteen-year-old Jessica lives to run. She's a track star, but she loses her leg when an uninsured driver hits her school bus. The tale follows Jessica's initial despair and growing confidence as she struggles to cope with her disability and her father works to pay medical bills. At last the community rallies round her with a fund drive to buy her a prosthetic running leg. Meanwhile, Jessica makes friends with Rosa, a bright girl with cerebral palsy whom she had never noticed before. She decides to help Rosa as her friends have helped her, but Jessica's decision to push the wheelchair-bound girl through a 10-mile race might be too ambitious. Despite the story's focus on Jessica's emotional rollercoaster ride, Pollyanna would feel right at home there. Nevertheless, the pace of Van Draanen's prose matches Jessica's at her swiftest. Readers will zoom through the book just as Jessica blazes around the track. A lively and lovely story.(Fiction. 12 up)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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Chapter 1 My life is over. Behind the morphine dreams is the nightmare of reality. A reality I can't face. I cry myself back to sleep wishing, pleading, praying that I'll wake up from this, but the same nightmare always awaits me. "Shhh," my mother whispers. "It'll be okay." But her eyes are swollen and red, and I know she doesn't believe what she's saying. My father--now that's a different story. He doesn't even try to lie to me. What's the use? He knows what this means. My hopes, my dreams, my life . . . it's over. The only one who seems unfazed is Dr. Wells. "Hello there, Jessica!" he says. I don't know if it's day or night. The second day or the first. "How are you feeling?" I just stare at him. What am I supposed to say, "Fine"? He inspects my chart. "So let's have a look, shall we?" He pulls the covers off my lap, and I find myself face to face with the truth. My right leg has no foot. No ankle. No shin. It's just my thigh, my knee, and a stump wrapped in a mountain of gauze. My eyes flood with tears as Dr. Wells removes the bandages and inspects his handiwork. I turn away, only to see my mother fighting back tears of her own. "It'll be okay," she tells me, holding tight to my hand. "We'll get through this." Dr. Wells is maddeningly cheerful. "This looks excellent, Jessica. Nice vascular flow, good color . . . you're already healing beautifully." I glance at the monstrosity below my knee. It's red and bulging at the end. Fat staples run around my stump like a big ugly zipper, and the skin is stained dirty yellow. "How's the pain?" he asks. "Are you managing okay?" I wipe away my tears and nod, because the pain in my leg is nothing compared to the one in my heart. None of their meds will make that one go away. He goes on, cheerfully. "I'll order a shrinker sock to control the swelling. Your residual limb will be very tender for a while, and applying the shrinker sock may be uncomfortable at first, but it's important to get you into one. Reducing the swelling and shaping your limb is the first step in your rehabilitation." A nurse appears to re-bandage me as he makes notes in my chart and says, "A prosthetist will be in later today to apply it." Tears continue to run down my face. I don't seem to have the strength to hold them back. Dr. Wells softens. "The surgery went beautifully, Jessica." He says this like he's trying to soothe away reality. "And considering everything, you're actually very lucky. You're alive, and you still have your knee, which makes a huge difference in your future mobility. BK amputees have it much easier than AK amputees." "BK? AK?" my mom asks. "I'm sorry," he says, turning to my mother. "Below knee. Above knee. In the world of prosthetic legs it's a critical difference." He prepares to leave. "There will obviously be an adjustment period, but Jessica is young and fit, and I have full confidence that she will return to a completely normal life." My mother nods, but she seems dazed. Like she's wishing my father was there to help her absorb what's being said. Dr. Wells flashes a final smile at me. "Focus on the positive, Jessica. We'll have you up and walking again in short order." This from the man who sawed off my leg. He whooshes from the room leaving a dark, heavy cloud of the unspoken behind. My mother smiles and coos reassuringly, but she knows what I'm thinking. What does it matter? I'll never run again. Chapter 2 I am a runner. That's what I do. That's who I am. Running is all I know, or want, or care about. It was a race around the soccer field in third grade that swept me into a real love of running. Breathing the sweet smell of spring grass. Sailing over dots of blooming clover. Beating all the boys. After that, I couldn't stop. I ran everywhere. Raced everyone. I loved the wind across my cheeks, through my hair. Running aired out my soul. It made me feel alive. And now? I'm stuck in this bed, knowing I'll never run again. Chapter 3 The prosthetist is stocky and bald, and he tells me to call him Hank. He tries to talk to me about a fake leg, but I make him stop. I just can't listen to this. He gets the nurse to put a new bandage on my leg. One that's thinner. With less gauze. I'm cold. The room's cold. Everything feels cold. I want to cover up, but Hank is getting ready to put on the shrinker sock. It's like a long, toeless tube sock. He pulls it through a short length of wide PVC pipe, then folds the top part of the sock back over the pipe. I don't understand what he's going to do with it, and I don't care. Until he slips the pipe over my stump. "Oh!" I gasp as pressure and pain shoot up my leg. "I'm sorry," Hank says, transferring the sock from the pipe onto my leg as he pulls the pipe off. "We're almost done." Half the tube sock is now dangling from my stump. Hank slides a small ring up the dangling end, then stretches out the rest of the sock and doubles it up over the ring and over my stump. There's pressure. Throbbing. But Hank assures me it'll feel better soon. "The area is swollen," he tells me. "Pooling with blood. The shrinker sock will help reduce the swelling and speed your recovery. Once the wound is healed and the volume of your leg is reduced, we can fit you with a preparatory prosthesis." "How long will that take?" my mother asks. Her voice starts out shaky, but she tries to steady it. Hank whips out a soft tape measure and circles the end of my stump. "That's hard to say." Excerpted from The Running Dream by Wendelin Van Draanen All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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