Dana's Valley (12 page)

“It's just sugar, dear.” Grandma smiled at Corey. “It won't hurt him.”

I wanted to argue with her but instead turned back to Dana as she spoke.

“I'll be okay, Daddy. But I'd like to go lie down. If I can just rest for a while, then I think I'll be okay. Maybe I could go to school after lunch.”

That was as much as I could take. I had piano to practice, and I was glad for a chance to get away from the chaos around the table. Corey could eat all the oatmeal and sugar he wanted. I was just glad to wash my hands of it.

I would even have to admit that I banged on the piano slightly harder than was necessary, just so I wouldn't have to hear the jumble of conversation in the kitchen. Before I was quite finished, Mom popped her head into the living room and informed me that Dana wouldn't be going to school. Perhaps if Dana felt better by noon, she could be dropped off for the last part of the school day. Mom also asked that I watch out for Corey and make sure he got to his new classroom. He'd need help finding his way.

Mom had planned to take Corey herself but was now waiting for a call back from Dr. Miller hoping he could see Dana during the morning. I told her I would go with him and then cross the street to my own school. Dana had managed to spoil Corey's first day of first grade, and my own nervousness was now magnified by her absence. I left the piano bench to gather my backpack and trudged upstairs to see that Corey had his school supplies together. Just as we were tying his shoes, Mom appeared at the doorway to his room, camera in hand.

“I want to take a picture of your first day of grade school, honey. And, Erin, I need a picture of your first day of junior high. Junior high! You're growing up so fast I can hardly believe it. Stay just like you are, you two. I'd like a picture of you helping Corey, Erin. Smile.”

I smiled dutifully and followed behind Corey while Mom escorted him to the front door to take the traditional first-day photos. Dad and Brett followed too.

After the camera clicked a few times in various poses with various family members, Mom and Dad each gave Corey a big hug and kiss and sent the three of us kids on our way down the long driveway. I looked back at Mom. She seemed kind of small—deflated. I don't think she'd been looking forward to this day when all of us were in school all day. Corey's kindergarten really didn't count, since he was home by noon. And I could tell that she was beginning to truly worry about Dana.

The bus didn't come up our lane. It was going to be a long way to walk on snowy winter days, but for now it was pretty. I looked up through the morning light that filtered through the leafy canopy above.

“I'm big today,” Corey reminded me. “I'm going to school all day.”

“That's right, squirt,” Brett answered him. “And pretty soon, you'll understand what a mixed blessing that is.” He grinned across at me, and we walked on in silence.

Boarding the school bus was a difficult thing to do. Even at our old school, I never quite got past a little anxiety that there wouldn't be a seat available for Marcy and me to sit together. It never mattered to Marcy, because if there wasn't she'd just ask somebody if they could switch so that we'd have room. I wished with all my heart that Marcy was with me now, especially when I didn't have even Dana with me.

Brett climbed up the steps first and turned, his eyes sizing up the situation on the bus. The smallest kids were seated near the driver and the bigger kids had claimed the back. All eyes were watching to see what we'd do next. Brett worked his way casually down the aisle and chose a seat with the big kids.

As for me, I was much more comfortable sitting forward with Corey, so I pushed him into an empty seat near the front and slid in beside him. No sooner had we taken the seat than the little girl in front of us started a string of questions.

“Who are you guys? Do you live in that new house?”

“Yup,” Corey answered confidently. “We were building it this summer, and now we're all moved in.”

“What's your name?” the girl prodded.

“I'm Corey. This is Erin. And my brother back there is Brett. See?” Corey pointed back to Brett's seat with a wide wave. “That's him. That's my brother.”

Brett pretended not to notice, looking busy adjusting a strap on his backpack.

“What grade are you in?”

“I'm in first grade because this is my first day of school. But it's not really my first day of school because last year I went to kindergarten. It's my first day of all-day school, though.”

“I'm in first grade too.” The little interviewer in the seat ahead announced the fact as if the two now shared a special position in society. I was beginning to like her. She had a funny, matter-of-fact way of speaking. And I was glad she was conversing with Corey. I had been a little afraid he wouldn't find the new school very friendly, though I couldn't imagine him not being able to chatter away with someone.

I smiled at the girl. She had an upturned nose and a cute little curly ponytail with a red bow. “What's your name?”

“I'm Rayna. We live in the house next to yours. We built our house too. But Daddy says we paid too much for it. I like it though. I think it's nice.”

Corey puffed out his chest and commented, “It costs a bunch to build a house, my daddy says.”

These two seemed perfectly suited to each other. I watched out the window and tried not to think about the long day that stretched out in front of me. I wondered what Marcy was doing right now, and whom she'd be sitting with this year on the school bus. I supposed it would be Carli. Then I thought of Dana. I missed her. I hoped with all my heart she would be better soon—maybe by tomorrow.

By Wednesday night it was all I could do to keep myself from rushing into our church in search of Marcy. I forced myself to walk at a dignified pace. Dana followed along behind, apparently much more patient about sharing stories of the new school than I was. Thankfully she had felt well enough to come on Tuesday. I described to Marcy the teachers and the building. I told her about the kids I'd already met and the odd ones I had observed.

Marcy was dramatically empathetic. Then she, in turn, groaned about the classes she'd begun and enthused about seeing some of the familiar faces again. It made me homesick to listen, but I drank it all in anyway.

Dana and Carli were standing near us, speaking in quieter tones. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I noticed Carli rush toward the rest room and Dana leaning back against the wall holding her nose. I could only stare. There was blood dribbling down Dana's hand and splashing onto her shirt. I hurried over just as Carli ran back with tissues.

“Dana, sit down,” Carli instructed. “Tip your head back and pinch your nose.”

For a fleeting moment I wondered if it was possible that Carli had actually
hit
Dana. But the ridiculous thought was immediately dismissed.

“What happened?” Marcy and I asked the question at the same time.

“I don't know.” Dana's voice was muffled behind the tissue. “Erin, please go get Mom. Please!”

I ran. By the time I reached the preschool room I was breathless and a little panic-stricken. “Mom.” My whisper was breathy and loud. “Dana's nose is bleeding. She wants you.”

Mom hurried out of the room, stopping only to tell the neighboring teacher to please watch her class. Then she headed back toward the stairs where Dana was seated. Already a small crowd of concerned adults had gathered, and Dana was pressing herself against the wall as if she'd like it to swallow her up.

“Honey, what happened? Can you get it to stop? Did you bang it?”

I could see tears forming in Dana's eyes. She looked frightened and embarrassed. “I want to go home. Mom, can somebody take me home?”

“Yes, honey, just as soon as we get the bleeding stopped, we'll take you home.”

I saw the blood on Dana's shirt, and I knew she couldn't go to youth group with Carli now that she had ruined her clothes. But it hardly seemed fair that the rest of us would have to leave too.

“Erin, please go see if you can find Dad.”

I marched up the stairs with Marcy in tow, her questions flying after me. “What happened? Do you know how it started? Did she hit it on something? I've never seen anybody get a nosebleed without hitting it on something.”

I assured Marcy that I had absolutely no idea.

We knocked on the door of the boardroom and timidly peeked inside. Dad was seated on the opposite side of the room. When he saw us, he excused himself and moved quickly to the door.

The news of Dana's nosebleed brought an unprecedented response. He flew down the stairs two at a time and sat down beside Dana who, by then, had stopped bleeding. “Honey, are you okay?”

She answered by leaning her head against him and starting to cry. Carli was hovering close, holding Dana's hand.

But the crisis seemed to be over. I breathed freely again. Dana appeared to be okay. I turned toward Marcy, ready now to go to the youth room. But Mom hurried up with a bundle of coats.

“Here's your coat.” She handed it to me and crouched beside Dana. “We'll get you home, honey.”

People still shuffled about. No one had really left. But Mom was helping Dana into her jacket. We were the ones who'd be leaving.

Dana was the center of attention, and we were all going to pack up and go home without ever going to our activities of the evening. It was unbelievable. There was still so much I hadn't had a chance to tell Marcy.

“Erin, get the boys, please.”

I obeyed. But my heart was far from cooperative. It was so unfair. It wasn't my fault Dana had to go home. Why did we all have to go? But even as I was complaining I knew it was unreasonable to expect my parents to make a special trip back.

It was still early when we arrived home, but I headed up for bed anyway. I had finished my homework as quickly as I could after school in anticipation of my first night in youth group. With this milestone stripped away, there was nothing left to do except to watch TV, and I wasn't in the mood for that. I was much more interested in lying in the dark feeling sorry for myself.

Dana walked in and out of the bedroom two or three times in preparation for bed. I ignored her, feigning sleep. She was the last person I wanted to talk to just then. Finally, I could hear her slide her feet down between her sheets and snuggle into her pillow to get comfortable. There was a long, heavy silence, and I thought she must have been drifting off to sleep. Then she whispered across to me in the stillness.

“Erin, I think I'm going to die.” The words seared themselves into my mind. Surely I hadn't heard correctly.

I flipped over to face her and whispered back anxiously, “What are you talking about?”

I realized then that she had been crying silently. And I felt horrid for having been feeling and acting so selfishly. On impulse, I slipped out of my bed and crossed to sit down beside her. My voice had softened with sympathy. Suddenly I really wanted to understand what was troubling her.

“There's something wrong with me,” Dana said, her voice muffled. “I can feel it. I've been thinking about it for a long time, but now I'm just so scared. I really think I'm going to die.”

“Dana, don't say that. You're not going to die. It was just a nosebleed. Lots of kids get nosebleeds.”

“But I'm so tired, Erin. I've been tired for months and months. And this summer I kept getting sick. Then the aches started. Sometimes during the night I can hardly sleep I ache so much. I don't know what to do. I get so scared.”

“Why didn't you wake someone up? Why didn't you tell Mom and Dad it was that bad? Why didn't you even tell me? I didn't know you were
that
sick.”

“I was hoping I could be wrong. I thought I was just being paranoid. But then, the nosebleed. I can't ignore it anymore. Something is very wrong.” Her voice broke, and I dropped down closer to her.

“It'll be okay. Mom's going to take you to the doctor. They'll find out what's wrong, and they'll fix it.” Tears welled up in my eyes. “You're not going to die, Dana,” I repeated with emphasis. “You're not even old.”

We sniffled together for a while, neither of us talking. The weight of Dana's words was just too great. I couldn't imagine being thirteen and being scared of dying. It was just too incredible to think about.

“I want you to talk to me, Dana,” I whispered hoarsely. “I want you to tell me how you're feeling every day. Even if you don't think you can tell Mom and Dad. I want you to promise that you'll tell me.”

“I promise.” There was a hint of relief in her voice.

It was some time before we fell asleep, and by then I had crawled under the covers on Dana's bed. It seemed safer if we stuck together.

Dr. Miller eventually chose to refer Mom and Dana to another doctor—a woman, who was an OB/GYN. It would be a week until they'd be able to see her, and we were all anxious for the day to arrive. In the meantime, Dana walked mechanically through her first days at our new school, colorless and frail. It made me want to throw my arms around her and protect her.