The firefly hovered over the back of my hand, then landed—slowly, effortlessly. I could hardly feel its delicate touch. Two wire-thin antennae, flickering, protruded from its tiny round head painted with a small red dot. I tried not to tremble. My hands often move on their own, whether I want them to or not, so I focused intensely, willing myself to remain still.
The novel opens with this narrative imagery composed by the protagonist of the story. It is a significant bit of foreshadowing as the firefly imagery will recur several times throughout the story. Indeed, at a certain point, Melody herself will come to earn the nickname “Firefly Girl” courtesy of a certain significant figure in her life whom she initially refers to in her narration as, well, “the firefly boy.”
“Hey, Melody. That’s a really pretty name. I’m Noah.”
Just as Firefly Girl has a name, so does the kid formerly known as the firefly boy. Noah is the firefly boy who coins the nickname Firefly Girl for Melody. Noah will eventually go on to earn quite a big distinction in the life of Firefly Girl: the very first boy she ever dances with. That scene is about as awkward to imagine as possible, but it is that very awkwardness which also makes it so endearing. And endearing is a word often used to describe Melody, whether she is being Firefly Girl or not. One thing to bet the farm on: if Noah hurts her, he will become one of the most despised characters in recent fiction.
I’ve got this really awesome computer-like device that attaches to my wheelchair. It’s called a Medi-Talker, but that sounds way too boring and grown-up, so I named it Elvira. It’s how I talk to the rest of the world. By using my thumbs, when they decide to cooperate—which, luckily, is most of the time—I can tap or type just about anything that pops into my head, then push the speak button, and Elvira will say it for me.
By the way, in case anyone wasn’t aware, the heroine of our story—Melody—is wheelchair-bound because of a disability. Melody’s qualities of being endearing have nothing to do with the nature or consequences of that disability which is simply one part of her life and not the thing which defines her as a person. She is not simply Wheelchair Girl any more than she is simply Firefly Girl. The practicality of technology needed for Melody to perform everyday tasks taken for granted does have it admittedly huge impact on her as a person, but the entire point of the book is to illuminate that she is not worthy of telling her story simply as a result of dealing with disabilities. Her story is worth telling because she’s a very, very cool girl. Who just so happens to speak through a device she calls Elvira attached to her wheelchair and who enjoys the company of lightning bugs.
