Changing Fate (9 page)

By Monday morning, I’m still low on energy. The cough has subsided for the most part and the scratchy ache in my throat has gone away. I stay in bed and wait for Mom to come home for my next treatment. She set up the TV in my room and gave me a stack of documentaries on French architecture and classical artwork.

Someone knocks on my door. Not Mom. “Hello?”

“Kate. It’s me, Giana. Can I come in?”

Giana? I pull up the blankets and fall into my pillow. “Sure.”

The door inches open and she steps in. “Your mom called and said she wasn’t going to make it home. She asked me to come by and check on you.”

Really? Mom knows I can do my own IVs if I have to. Maybe she didn’t want my friends to forget about me. I glance at the clock and see that it’s lunchtime. “You really don’t have to help.” 

“Your mom said you’d say that too.” Giana folds her hands in front of her. “Actually, I asked how you were doing and she said I could stop by and see for myself.”

I hold out my left arm and point to the PICC line needle imbedded in my skin. “As long as I keep up with my meds every six hours and do the added therapy, I’m fine. A little tired, but that’s normal.”

Giana nods. “Your mom said you needed a lot of rest.”

“Yeah. It’s definitely easier to heal when I’m not running around going on dates…” I lift my brow and press my lips together.

Giana throws her hands up. “Okay, okay. So I knew about the date.” She pauses and crosses the room to sit on my chair. “Sorry it didn’t end well. I didn’t realize you were so sick.”

I shrug and my mind flits back to the art gallery, to Kyler’s intense gaze, to the way he reached so easily for my hand. I curl my fingers into a fist and squeeze the memory from my
head. “I should’ve known better.”

Giana twirls a strand of hair around her finger and offers a one sided, cheesy grin. “Did you have a good time with Kyler?”

Her smile spreads to the other side and I can’t hold mine back any longer. “Stop that,” I say, trying to suppress more giddiness from escaping. I laugh then cough. “Nothing happened.”

I can call holding hands nothing, right? I mean, it
was
nothing. It’s not like we kissed or anything. A sudden pounding takes over my chest and reminds me that it was anything
but
nothing. Heat crawls across my face and my breaths become shallow.

Giana’s eyes are wide. “Nothing? That’s not what it sounds like to me.”

The thumping in my chest beats a constant rhythm on the growing knot in my stomach. What did she hear?

“Kyler keeps asking if I know how you’re doing,” she says. “He’s really worried about you. And he wouldn’t be that worried over nothing.”

I exhale the air trapped in my lungs. Okay. So it wasn’t like she heard anything specific. She’s just making assumptions.

“Did anything happen?” Giana asks.

She didn’t define “anything” so I shake my head. “By the way, thanks for telling him about my love for French architecture. How did you know?”

Giana points to the posters on my wall: Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the Sainte Chapelle. “Just took a guess. And you’re welcome.”

A timer rings on my phone. I turn off the alarm and sit up. “Would you mind bringing me my meds?”

“Where are they?”

“Under the target in a container.”

Giana gets out a bag of meds and brings it over. I hook it up and
shiver as the cool liquid enters my body, slowly seeping through my veins. This is what I get to do all day, every day until this sickness goes away. Whether I’m at school or at home, this needle in my arm is a part of my life for now.

After a while, Giana leaves, to get to her next class. But tomorrow I’ll be joining the throng of students. Mom says I’ve improved enough to return to school as long as I don’t do anything crazy.

I fill my day with resting, reading, watching documentaries, doing extra therapy, and taking my meds. Hopefully there won’t be any new kids at school tomorrow. I kind of think bully-fighting against Vivian would fall under crazy and there’s only so much I’m willing to risk my life for.

* * *

Mom takes me to school the next morning and hands my meds to Nurse Molly. It’s nice to know there’s a place closed off from the rest of the school where I can be me. Nurse Molly knows all about my disease and also knows that I want to keep it as private as possible.

Mom brings her up to speed with my infection and then we all part ways. Mom goes to work but I’ll be back with Nurse Molly after lunch. At home my drip line takes two hours, but I turn it on f
aster at school so I can finish in thirty minutes.

I turn down the hall toward my locker and find Kyler leaning against it. The smile on his lips makes my whole body feel light, alive.

“Giana told me you’d be here today.” He reaches out and tugs lightly on the hem of my long-sleeved shirt.

Long sleeves to cover the
PICC line opening for my IV meds—it’s all carefully planned. I clear my throat and breathe in. “I’m here.”

He steps closer and his finger trails down the side of my hand. I want to lean into him, but I just stand still. Kyler tilts his head down and his gaze pierces me, searching for something. I feel open and vulnerable, like he can see every secret I have. The one about my disease, the one about the needle in my arm, and the one that isn’t much of a secret anymore—the way I feel about him. I’m sure that one’s written on every part of my face. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

His words steal my thoughts. I swallow hard and stare at his lips. They’re parted, showing the tip of his tongue. I focus on his single freckle and my body sways forward. His lips close and I wonder if he wants to kiss me.

Wait. I’m in the
school hallway.
What am I thinking? This is the worst place to have a first kiss with someone. No doubt other kids have done it, but not me. I lean back and rack my brain to remember his question. I blink and find my answer. “I think so.”

“Oh good.” Kyler steps back and
rubs his forehead. Is he sweating? Did he want that kiss as much as I did?

“Hey, Kate,” someone says from behind me.

I close my eyes and picture my fist landing in
someone’s
blue hair. What does Vivian want? My eyes open just in time to see her step into my line of vision and basically kill my conversation with Kyler.

“Heard you had a cold.”

I shrug. Why would she care anyway?

“Maybe you learned your lesson.”

Kyler leans back and stifles a laugh. I glare at him and fold my arms together. Yes, it’s the only thing that keeps me from getting crazy. “What are you talking about, Vivian?”

She steps close and bends forward to get right in my face, popping any kind of personal bubble I might
’ve had. “I don’t want to see your lips on my man ever again.”

I roll my eyes. “I thought we went over this.”

“I’m just making sure we’re clear in case you get any ideas.”

I nod. Right. Clear. “Well, since we’re pointing out the obvious, I’ll show you how much I don’t want your man.” I lift my fist between us and Vivian’s eyes bulge. She jumps back as I stretch my fingers out. Her eyebrow shoots up and she cocks her head to the side. I
grin, reach my hand toward Kyler’s and grab hold of his fingers.

“Come on,” I tell him. “Let’s get to class.”

Vivian’s jaw drops and Kyler’s laugh leads us down the hall.

“Why didn’t you stand up for me?” I ask
him, faking a frown and swinging our hands. “I thought she was going to bite off my face.”

Kyler
nudges my side. “I would’ve stopped her, but I know you’d win that fight any day.”

That fight. The only one in my life I might be able to win. Too bad the other constant battle is one I can never
overcome. The thought weighs on me and dampens the happiness from going public with Kyler—as public as walking halfway down the hall can be. Once we get to psychology, he breaks away and goes to his seat.

* * *

Somehow I missed Max in statistics. Even after Kyler ditched me for a choir performance at an old folk’s center. But the second I step foot into the lunchroom, Max is there. In my face. With a flower? I stop and stare at him.

“Kate. I heard you were sick. And then I heard you were getting better. And then I saw you back in school and I wanted to get you something.”

He hands over the limp flower and I wonder where he got it from. Outside? Are there even flowers blooming? Maybe there’s an arrangement in the office that’s suddenly sparse. “Uh…thanks, Max.” Now,
please-leave-me-alone-please-leave-me-alone
.

“Guess I better go get my lunch.”

I step away and the flower folds over. “Yeah, me too. See ya.”

I don’t even make it to the lunch line before Charlie stops me. He hasn’t talked to me since I told him to leave me alone. Apparently that threat has worn off.

He runs a hand through his hair and cracks his knuckles. “Hey, Kate.”

My stomach growls. “What is it, Charlie?”

“Listen. Vivian isn’t as bad as you think she is.”

Okay? Not what I expected to hear. I’m about to argue the point but I think it would make his speech longer. “Yeah…so?”

“I just wanted to let you know what she really says about you behind your back.”

I glance across the room and find Vivian working her flirt charm on Jack. “Look, I really don’t care.”

“You should.” Charlie’s boyish eyes soften his outburst. “It will help you see why I hang out with her.”

I blink a few times. “You still hang out with her?”

“She’s not always bad.”

“And being bad is sometimes okay?” I ask.

Charlie shifts his feet. “I overheard her telling someone that you really didn’t make out with Jack—”

“Which is true. How does that make her good?”

He waves his hands. “I’m getting there.
Sheesh
. She said she was glad that you told her. I don’t think she hates you, Kate. I think she just doesn’t know how to make friends.”

I try to follow his logic. “You’re saying she wants to be my friend?”

Charlie breathes out a puff of air. “I’m saying that she has a bunch of boys as friends because we’re the only ones that will give her the time of day.”

Apparently she doesn’t get along with her twin sister enough to count her as a friend. I cough into my arm and scramble for a good response. “And teasing new kids is going to make them want to be friends with her?”

“Don’t you see?” He throws his hands up and I shut my mouth so I can try to
see
something. He’s delaying my lunch and I have to do my meds soon. “She doesn’t know how to make friends and doesn’t know how to get a boyfriend. She likes Jack a lot.” Charlie bites his lip and draws his eyebrows together. “It’s like this: her whole life she’s been fighting for friends with her twin sister. That’s the only way she knows how to get attention. To fight for it.”

He’s finally said something that makes sense. But why I’m having this heart to heart with a boy I’ve only talked to a couple times is beyond me. “Charlie, why are you telling me this? Do you want me to become friends with her?”

His arms fall. “You don’t have to. But don’t get mad at me if I am.”

I cough again. It’s normal. Not like this conversation. “I don’t care if you are, but maybe you could help her with the attitude? Deal?”

He looks right at me. “And what about your attitude?”

I flinch. Is that what he’s really getting at? Trying to get to the bottom of my personal problems? Another cough cuts off my reply and I wait for it to subside. “You may have Vivian all figured out, but you don’t know much about me. Sorry, Charlie.” 

I turn around and walk away. As much as I want to forget his words, they’re like a broken record.
Your attitude. Your attitude. Your attitude
.

Seriously! I can’t make it stop. Charlie thinks I’m like Vivian. Sure we both push people away, but I’m not mean about it. Am I? I’ve been getting better. I’m friends with Giana. And kind of dating Kyler. And what about Mo? Okay, maybe he’s only a friend by default since Giana fell for him.

I grab my lunch and head toward the nurse’s office. It’s not until I’m hooked up to my meds and scarfing down my food in record time that I realize what Charlie’s talking about.

I’m trying to let people in.

And Vivian’s trying to let people in.

But neither of us really know how.

But how can I? Especially after this most recent infection? As much as I’m prepared for death, I’m more scared now than ever before. And I think it’s because I
have
let people in. Giana is a great friend and Kyler…well, he’s something else. Something I don’t want to think about or it will tear me apart from the inside out—starting with my heart.