The X-rays showed glowing orbs like my anklebones held ghosts. I was ten, and thought, Maybe I’m haunted. From that day on, in a sense, I was: haunted by hollow plastic twins, translucent white things that stood up, waiting, when I peeled them off to shower. I got leg braces, just in time for middle school. Needing braces was another vague “leg problem” I’d accrued since birth: dislocated hips, fractured growth plates, bone spurs, arthritic…