“Ally . . . ,” Adam said in a warning tone.
“Zipping my lip,” Alexis said, making a sliding motion across her mouth.
Kelly’s perfume lingered in the room like a ghost standing between them.
The new drugs made Adam deathly ill. He was to take the special drug cocktail by IV every day for eight days, then wait two weeks before resuming the medication. The clinical trial was to last eight weeks, and he would be closely monitored throughout. “He’ll be in the hospital until January,” Eleanor explained to Alexis. “He can’t even come home for Christmas.”
“Then we’ll bring Christmas to him,” Alexis said. “And Thanksgiving too.”
The week before Thanksgiving, Alexis organized a pilgrim party, and with the help of her friends, cut out construction-paper turkeys, pumpkins and pilgrim hats, made paper chains in fall colors and built a large replica of the Mayflower from cardboard. After receiving permission from the hospital staff, they decorated the walls of the pediatric floor with the colorful shapes. On Thanksgiving day, Alexis and her friends arrived early and set up tables in the pediatric playroom for the families of kids too sick to leave the hospital. They spread paper leaves over the butcher-paper-covered tabletops and set out wicker baskets filled with trinkets and party favors as centerpieces. They filled balloons with helium, tied long ribbons to them and let them float to the ceiling. The hospital cafeteria would serve turkey with all the trimmings to the group.
“Looks great,” a nurse told Alexis just before the kids and their parents arrived from their rooms for the meal. “We try to do this for the kids ourselves every year, but it’s hard when we’ve got our own families to think about. These kids deserve something special. Thanks for taking over and doing such a nice job.”
“It was fun,” Alexis said. She was glad others could benefit from the effort, but it was Adam she had been thinking about. She never wanted him to spend another Thanksgiving in the hospital.
Unfortunately, because of his new treatments, Adam was too sick to eat, so he remained in his room and slept, but everyone else showed up and appeared to have a good time, including her parents. Just before the meal ended, Eleanor said, “Be right back.” She soon returned carrying a large cake shaped like a fat turkey wearing a pilgrim hat. Its tail feathers were spread like a fan and colored in bright shades of frosting. The body of the turkey was dome shaped, not flat like most cakes. Individual icing feathers had been meticulously sculpted in neat rows. “Wow,” one of the fathers said. “Where did you buy that?”
“I made it,” she said shyly. “It’s a white cake with chocolate icing and buttercream filling, my son’s favorite.”
All the children clustered around the cake, begging for a slice.
Alexis said, “Way to go, Mom.”
Eleanor actually blushed. “I remembered how much he liked this kind of cake, so I dug through my old recipe box until I found the recipe. I took a confectionary how-to course many years ago, so I own all the decorator frosting tips and paraphernalia. And I was surprised at how quickly things came back to me once I started.”
A memory stirred inside Alexis of a birthday party when she and Adam had been six. Their mother had made them twin superhero cakes— Superman for Adam, Wonder Woman for Alexis. The cakes were shaped like the characters, and their costumes were correct to the smallest detail. Alexis had loved that party, and at the time, thought that their mom could do anything.
Eleanor cut the cake, and Blake began passing it around. “Nice work,” he said with an expression on his face that Alexis hadn’t seen there in ages.
Alexis took two pieces. “I’ll save one for Adam. Who knows? Maybe he’ll feel like eating it later.”
Adam did feel better later, and he did eat the cake. “This is really good,” he kept telling his mother with every bite. “I mean really good.”
Eleanor couldn’t stop smiling.
When Alexis arrived home that evening, Sawyer was parked in her driveway. “Hey,” he said. “How did the big feast go?”
“Great.” She walked over to his car and leaned into the driver’s side window. “Everyone said they had fun. Mom baked a cake and brought it as a surprise. And boy, was I surprised! You here for a reason? All those football games can’t be over already.”
“They’re still playing, but I thought I’d come over and make a pass at you.”
“Funny,” she said.
“Hop in. We’ll go to a movie.”
“I won’t be able to stay awake.”
“Come on. You can sleep in tomorrow. Unless you’re planning on hitting the stores for Christmas shopping like my mom.”
She hadn’t even thought about Christmas shopping. “Not this year.”
His eyes grew serious. “You need to get your mind off your brother, Ally.”
“Are you reading my mind?”
“No,” he said, running his finger along her jaw. “I’m reading your eyes. Your sad eyes.”
She took a deep breath to steady the emotions that swirled through her. “It isn’t fair, you know. Adam doesn’t deserve this.”
“I know. But he’s got one terrific sister on his team.”
She smiled, feeling his compliment to her bones. “All right, you win. We’ll go to a movie.”
He leaned across the seat and opened the passenger door. Alexis walked around the car and got in, all the while thinking about Adam shut away in a hospital, sick and in pain. No . . . it really wasn’t fair at all.
At school, kids and teachers asked her about Adam, but few went to visit him. Alexis often heard the excuse “It’s just too hard to see him like that.” Excuses annoyed her. People were thinking about themselves, not Adam. He was lonely. He didn’t say as much, but she could tell. Sometimes she’d go into his room and he’d just be sitting and staring out the window.
Of course Tessa visited him, as did Sawyer, but Kelly rarely went, and that bothered Alexis most of all. “She’s supposed to be his girlfriend,” Alexis fumed to Tessa. “What kind of girlfriend doesn’t go to the hospital to see her boyfriend?”
“The wrong girlfriend,” Tessa answered philosophically. “Bet Adam still likes her, doesn’t he?”
“Talks about her all the time. But he’s the one who has to call and e-mail her. She never does it first.”
“I heard she’s been invited to be on the dance team.”
“Maybe she’ll break a leg.”
“Uncharitable,” Tessa said. “That’s not like you.”
Alexis shrugged. “It’s me ever since Adam got sick again. You know, the first time it happened to him, I didn’t know what was going on, and that made me scared. This time I know what’s going on, and it’s making me angry.” She hated both feelings but could do nothing to control either one.
One afternoon, Alexis went to visit Adam, but he wasn’t in his room. She checked the playroom, the library area, the computer terminals, but he wasn’t in any of those places. Just when she was growing alarmed, she turned a corner and almost plowed into him.
“Whoa. Slow down,” he said. He was pushing his IV unit. A portable monitor was strapped to his chest to keep track of his heartbeat.
“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.” His weight loss was more noticeable when he stood up. His clothes hung on him. Alexis made a mental note to talk to their mother about buying him new pants and shirts for Christmas.
“You found me. Too much to see and do around here,” he joked. “And if you must know, I’ve been visiting a friend.”
“You have a friend up here?” This was news to her.
He cocked his head. “Want to meet him?”
She’d half hoped it was a girl, so that he could forget about Kelly. “Sure.” She followed him down a hall where she’d never been before.
“This area’s for the younger kids—five and under,” he said. He stopped at a closed door, opened it a crack and said, “Hey, Rudy. It’s me, Adam. Can I bring my sister in to say hi?”
A child?
??s voice said, “Is she pretty?”
“Very pretty.”
“Okay.”
Adam opened the door, and Alexis peered into the semidark room. There on the bed sat a little boy. Or at least the resemblance of a little boy. For this child was a mass of scar tissue. He had no hand on one arm, a partial hand on the other. “Meet Rudy,” Adam said. “He’s my new buddy.”
THIRTEEN
Alexis fought an automatic revulsion at Rudy’s disfigurement. One side of the boy’s face was horribly scarred; the other side appeared almost normal. Half of his hair was gone, and his neck looked red and raw. He wore pajamas that covered the rest of him, but she could imagine the scar tissue underneath. “Hi,” she said, hoping she sounded cheerful.
“Adam says you’re twins,” Rudy said. His voice sounded raspy. “You don’t look like twins.”
“Sure we do,” Adam said, moving alongside the bed with his IV pole. “Come here, Ally. Let him see the resemblance up close.”
She hesitated for only a second before joining Adam. They put their cheeks together and leaned in toward Rudy. She could smell the ointment that bathed his body, but she didn’t flinch. Rudy examined their faces with his good eye. “She’s got hair and you don’t,” Rudy observed sagely. “But I guess you sort of look like each other.”
Alexis pulled back, not knowing how to begin a conversation with this grossly disfigured child.
Adam came to her rescue. “My sister’s won a lot of trophies.”
“For sports?” Rudy asked.
“No,” Alexis said. “For talking.”
Rudy’s one eyebrow shot up. “They give trophies for talking ?”
His surprise was so genuine that Alexis and Adam both laughed. “It’s a special kind of talking called debating,” Alexis said.
Rudy didn’t look convinced. “I have two trophies,” he said, brightening. “For baseball.”
“Rudy’s quite the slugger,” Adam said. “He played T-ball last year.”
“When I get out of the hospital, I’m going out for Little League,” Rudy said confidently.
The fact that he had only part of one hand didn’t seem to faze him, but it brought an instant lump to Alexis’s throat. “Good for you.”
“I like baseball a lot.”
“What position do you want to play?” she asked.
Rudy glanced up at Adam. “First base, just like Adam. He says I can come watch him play. In the spring, right?”
Adam grinned. “That’s right. Rudy’s going to cheer for me.”
“Where do you live?”
“Homestead.” Rudy had named a city farther south, almost to the Florida Keys.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“A brother. But he’s just a baby. Mom has to stay with Tony ’cause he’s too little to visit me.” A shadow crossed Rudy’s scarred face. “Daddy drives a truck, so I don’t see so much of him either.”
“That’s why we’re friends,” Adam interjected. “I told Rudy that while he’s in the hospital, I’ll be his big brother.”
Alexis waited only a moment before asking, “So can I be your big sister?”
Rudy thought about it, and Adam leaned forward to say, “She’s a pretty good sister, take it from me.”
Rudy nodded. “I guess so.”
Just then, a nurse stepped into the room pushing a wheelchair. “Hey, Rudy. Time for physical therapy.”
He stuck out his lower lip. “I hate physical therapy. It hurts.”
“No pain, no gain,” Adam said. “All ballplayers have to be flexible. So they can reach for fly balls and run bases.”
The nurse gave Adam a friendly wink. “You heard what Adam said. Let’s get moving.”
Grousing, Rudy let her help him out of the bed and into the chair. “Will you come see me later?” he asked Adam.
“Want to eat dinner together?”
Rudy agreed, and the nurse whisked him out the door.
Alexis turned toward her brother. “What happened to him?”
“A house fire. He was trapped in his room and a fireman carried him out. At first, they thought he would die. The smoke damaged his lungs and voice. He was burned badly, and he’s been through a real ordeal, but the doctors pulled him through. He’s been here since July. He’s actually eight years old.”
Alexis shivered. “Poor little boy. Why is he on this floor? I thought this was oncology.”
“There’s nothing but adults up in the burn unit. His doctors thought he needed to be around other kids to help him adjust. They brought him down last week.”
“Will he . . . I mean, his scars . . . will they get better?”
“He’s already had several skin graft operations, but no, he’s always going to be scarred.”
“What about the other kids? What do they say when they see him? It’s quite a shock, you know, when you see him for the first time.”
“He gets plenty of stares, but he’s made a couple of friends down in the playroom. Can you imagine how hard it’ll be for him in the real world? I guess that’s one reason I made friends with him. No one should have to feel like a freak. That . . . and the fact that he’s a really nice little kid.” He grinned at Alexis. “I can’t spend all my time lying around feeling sorry for myself, can I?”
“Never!” she said.
“That’s one thing you realize about this place after you hang around for a while. No matter how bad off you think you are, there’s always someone worse off.” He headed toward the door, pushing the IV pole. “Come on, let’s watch Jeopardy!”
Mrs. Wiley, the debating team coach, called Alexis up after class one afternoon in early December. “How’s your brother, Alexis?”
“He’s hanging in there. The new drugs really make him sick, but his doctors think they’re making a difference.”
“That’s wonderful.” She paused. “You know, we’ve got a big tourney coming up in January, and you’ve missed several practice sessions.”
“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry.”
“I’m not scolding you,” Mrs. Wiley added hastily. “But practice is important. We only have two more tournaments before state.” She shuffled papers on her desk. “As you know, state is everything. It’s why we’ve worked so hard. I think the team I’m taking to Tallahassee is the best I’ve ever coached.” Only teams with the highest points went to state. Theirs had just missed by a few points when Alexis was a junior.
“I’m glad to be a part of it.”
Mrs. Wiley shoved the papers aside and looked Alexis full in the face. “You’re the heart of this team, Alexis. You’re the one the others respect and look up to. And winning will be a gold star on your college application forms.”
“I’m waiting for my SAT scores.”
“You’re a good student, so the SATs shouldn’t hold you back. Are you still hoping to get into Stetson?”
“It’s the only place I want to go,” Alexis confessed, but she also knew that Stetson limited the size of its freshman class. “They get tons of applications, so they can pick and choose who they take.”
“And remember, a college doesn’t just look at test scores. They look at a student’s overall record. They want well-balanced students, ones who can handle all of the college experience, not just classroom work. That’s why I believe extracurricular activity is so important. Your efforts in speech and debate will be a real asset when admissions people look beyond test scores.”
Slowly Alexis was catching on. Mrs. Wiley was asking Alexis to stay loyal to the team. Certainly she felt pulled and stretched in many directions, but she had never even considered quitting. “I’ll be ready for the January debate,” she told her teacher.
Mrs. Wiley looked relieved and offered a quick smile. “I have no doubts about your ability, Alexis, and I hope I didn’t give you the wrong idea. I just know how difficult things are for you now. I want to encourage you to stay the course, so to speak.”
Alexis walked out of the room feeling irritated. Did Mrs.
Wiley think she couldn’t handle her responsibilities just because Adam was in the hospital? If anything, she was more determined than ever to “stay the course” of her high school journey. She was doing it for herself but, in a roundabout way, for Adam too. Her experiences would become his experiences until he returned to classes himself. It was the least she could do for him, trapped in the hospital while she lived a healthy life.
When she told Tessa about the conversation after school in the library, Tessa said, “That’s so unfair! Mrs. Wiley shouldn’t put more pressure on you.”
“I won’t let the team down,” Alexis insisted. “I want to earn points for our school. I want us to be champions.”
“The team understands, Ally. This isn’t a case of loyalty. . . . It’s a matter of priority, and your brother takes priority over any debate tournament.”
Tessa had put into words what was in Alexis’s heart. “Tell that to Mrs. Wiley when I miss practice the next time.”
Tessa grinned. “I think she’s getting hyper because she’s been teaching for so long and this is her own personal best shot at the top honors. She’d take your place if she could.”
“You think?”
“Maybe we can buy her a long black wig and she could lose thirty pounds.”
Alexis got the giggles.
Tessa banged her fist on the table like a judge with a gavel. “Be it resolved—that teachers who coach debate for more than twenty years without winning a state trophy can substitute themselves as sacrificial lambs for the express purpose of achieving academic sainthood.”
“Stop, Tessa, you’re killing me.”
Tessa made a goofy face. The librarian gave them a warning look.
Alexis was still in a good mood that evening as she was stepping out the door to go to the hospital. She opened the door and ran into Sawyer. “Well, hi,” she said brightly. “What’s up?”
“That’s what I came by to ask you.” He didn’t look happy. “Why haven’t you been answering my e-mails or phone calls?”
“I haven’t turned on my computer in days. And you must not have left messages, because I don’t remember any—”
“For crying out loud, Ally, how do I get a date with my own girlfriend?”