Chapter 3

On my third day in the hospital, Dad spread all our bank statements across the bedside table and went through them page by page, pinning each one down with his finger. Checking. Savings. An old CD I didn't even know we had.

He went slowly, like he was counting out half his life.

"Is it enough?" I asked.

"It's enough." His voice was rough as sandpaper.

"Don't lie to me."

He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "Kids shouldn't worry about grown-up problems."

"I'm not a kid anymore," I said. "What about Lena?"

"She doesn't know." Mom came in with a bowl of oatmeal and answered way too fast. "I told her you went to stay at Grandma's place out in the country. Fresh air, a chance to rest up."

"Grandma died three years ago."

They both froze.

"Lena's not that easy to fool." I pushed the bowl away. "She's sharp as a tack."

"We'll fool her for as long as we can." Mom pushed the bowl back. "She has seven months until her exams. Seven months will fly by."

"And me?" I asked. "What happens to me in seven months?"

Nobody answered.

The room was so quiet I could hear the IV drip. The old man in the next bed started coughing again. This time, he hacked up a wad of phlegm, spat it into a tissue, balled it up, and tossed it on the floor.

I looked at that tissue and suddenly felt like there wasn't much difference between us. We were both just waiting to be thrown away.

"I want to see Lena," I said.

"No." This time, Dad didn't budge an inch. "She can't be distracted. Her grades are good enough for Westbridge. You can't ruin that for her."

"Ruin it for her?" I laughed. "When have I ever ruined anything for her?"

"That's not what I meant..."

"Then what did you mean?" My voice rose. "I'm dying, and I can't even see my sister one last time?"

"You're not going to die!" Mom suddenly screamed. "The doctor said it's treatable! A bone marrow transplant! If we find a match, you'll live!"

Her voice exploded through the room. A nurse poked her head in from the hallway, then ducked back out. Dad wrapped his arms around Mom, and she trembled against him like a leaf.

I leaned back against the pillow and stared at the cracks in the ceiling. They twisted and wound like lines on a map, like the chapped cracks on Lena's hands every winter.

"Fine," I said. "I won't see her. But I want to call her."

"No," Dad said.

"Then I'll call her myself. If you won't give me a phone, I'll jump out that window. We're on the fourth floor. It won't kill me, but it'll make plenty of noise. And when Lena shows up at the hospital to see me, don't say I didn't warn you."

It was the first time I'd ever threatened them. It was also the last.

Dad stared at me for a long time. Finally, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over. "Ten minutes. Don't mention you're sick."

I took it and dialed. It rang twice, then connected.

"Lena, it's me."

"Where the hell have you been?" A hair dryer roared on her end. "Mom says you went off to the country. Is that true?"

"It's true. The country's great. There are cows and sheep."

"Yeah, right." She laughed. "You're scared of bugs, and you went to the country?"

"What's there to be scared of? After your exams, I'll bring you out here. The mosquitoes are huge. One bite and you get a welt the size of a golf ball."

She paused, and the hair dryer cut off. "Ethan, why do you sound like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like... you haven't been sleeping."

"Gaming." I coughed. "Pulled an all-nighter."

"Don't give me that." Her voice dropped. "Did you get into another fight?"

"A fight? Please." I laughed. "I'm this tall. Who'd mess with me?"

"So when are you coming home?"

"After your exams."

"That long?"

"Relax," I said. "I'll definitely come back. I'll bring you some farm-fresh eggs. Supposedly they're great brain food."

She was quiet for a few seconds. Then she said, "Ethan, promise me."

"I promise."

"Swear it."

"I swear."

"Okay." She seemed to let out a breath. "Then I'll wait for you. Hurry back. Doing homework by myself is no fun."

The call ended. I held the phone, my palm slick with sweat.

Dad took it back and glanced at the call time: nine minutes and forty-eight seconds. He didn't say anything. He just patted my shoulder, very gently.

Outside, it started to snow. The flakes landed on the glass, melted, and ran down in thin streaks, like tears.