There’s more clapping as my stomach knots and I realise the new building is something I won’t ever see. I’ll be long gone by then. How weird.
Just as I’m zoning out, unable to listen to Mrs Maloney drone on anymore, I hear my name and I’m shook.
‘Perhaps you could join us on stage, Kayla?’ Mrs Maloney says, pointing towards me.
I shake my head. Oh God. Oh God. I can feel the eyes of every parent and pupil in the hall follow the tip of the principal’s finger to find where I’m sitting.
‘Kay-la. Kay-la. Kay-la,’ chanting begins.
I shake my head again. ‘No, no, no,’ I say, but no one can hear me.
The other students have started stomping their feet, keeping in beat to the syllables of my name as they chant. ‘Kay-la. Kay-la.’
Oh God, this is horrendous. No one warned me about having to get up on stage. My eyes widen. Crap, Mrs Maloney isn’t going to expect me to speak, is she? What would I even say?
‘Come on, Kayla. Don’t be shy,’ Mrs Maloney says into the microphone, so it definitely feels more like she’s talking to everyone in the room and not just to me.
I’m borderline freaking out. Mam glances at me, and I notice the super-worried face on her. I bet she thinks this is a crappy idea, too. I’ve been on stage for awards ceremonies before. But I’m always with my teammates. It’s never just me on my own. This feels so uncomfortable and forced.
Miss Hanlon disappears behind the stage curtain and within seconds she’s standing beside me.
‘Can you stand?’ she asks.
Mam shakes her head. Answering for me. Thank God.
‘There’s no ramp,’ Miss Hanlon says and I’m pretty sure she’s telling Mam and not me.
‘Where are the steps?’ Mam asks.
Miss Hanlon points to the stage door. ‘There are about four steps on the other side. They’re not steep or anything.’
‘Kay-la. Kay-la. Kay-la.’ The chanting grows even louder. It feels as if the roof is vibrating.
I glance at Molly sitting on Dad’s lap. I wonder if she’ll be scared by the loud noise and I almost start laughing when I see her bouncing up and down on Dad’s knees shouting her head off and loving every moment. Dad’s face is hilarious because she’s clearly squashing him.
‘I can carry you,’ Aiden says, leaning in from the seat behind me.
‘Screw this,’ I say, getting a fright because I didn’t know that’s where he disappeared to when Mrs Maloney came on stage.
‘Kayla. Please mind your language,’ Mam says. ‘Sorry, Miss Hanlon.’
‘Sorry, Miss,’ I add. ‘But seriously, no. How morto. Aiden cop on.’
‘Well you can at least lean on me, then,’ Aiden says.
‘Oh, Aiden, I don’t know. Steps are tricky for Kayla right now,’ Mam says.
I look at Doctor Patterson. He’s nodding and smiling. And even though I’m freaking out, I know I can do this. I’ll regret it if I don’t. The school have been so great, organising a sports day in the middle of November just for me, I probably should go up on stage to say thanks at least.
‘Go on,’ Doctor Patterson mouths and I smile back at him.
‘Kayla, it’s up to you,’ Miss Hanlon adds. ‘There’s no pressure. If you’re not comfortable…’
I listen to the noise and excitement in the hall that rings in my ears. ‘No pressure,’ I say, pulling a face.
‘Well…’ Miss Hanlon laughs.
‘Right. C’mon,’ I say, not sure what the hell I’m thinking as I stand up. ‘Let’s do this.’
Mam looks on as Aiden crouches slightly so I can drape my arm over his shoulder and Miss Hanlon supports me on the other side.
‘Take it handy,’ Mam warns. ‘Nice and slowly, okay.’
‘Okay,’ I nod, putting one foot in front of the other, relieved that it doesn’t hurt as much as I was expecting it to.
The steps are much more awkward than I anticipated and by the second step I’m seriously considering taking Aiden up on his offer to carry me. But I keep going – determined, and by the time we reach the stage I feel like a champion. An exhausted champion, to be fair.
‘And here she is now,’ Mrs Maloney says.
There’s a lot of clapping and wolf whistling as Aiden, Miss Hanlon and I make our way into the centre of the stage to stand beside the principal.
Miss Hanlon lets go and grabs a chair from the side of the stage. Aiden helps me to sit down and it feels super weird to be sitting facing a tonne of people as they all sit facing me.
Aiden turns to walk away and I tug the sleeve of his jumper, just in time to catch him.
‘Don’t leave me,’ I whisper.
‘This is your moment,’ he says.
‘Please,’ I say. ‘I need you.’
‘Okay.’
Aiden stands at one side of me, his face is red like he’s just finished an epic basketball game. I really hope someone takes a picture so I can tease him about this on Snapchat later. Miss Hanlon stands on the other side of me, her hand gently squeezing my shoulder encouragingly every now and then.
‘Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, it is with great pleasure that I announce today’s fundraiser has been an overwhelming successes. Thank you all for your kind support,’ Ms Maloney says.
There’s yet more clapping.
‘Miss Hanlon, if you would be so kind as to pass me the envelope with the tally please?’
Miss Hanlon scurries to the side of the stage, picks up a fancy white envelope and hurries back to give it to Mrs Maloney the way they do at the Oscars. Only I’ve never seen a presenter at the Oscars in a tracksuit or with a whistle dangling around her neck. I try not to laugh thinking about it.
‘Thank you,’ Mrs Maloney says, opening the envelope super, super slowly. ‘And the tally is in, we have raised a whopping two thousand euros today.’
‘Wow,’ I say, genuinely blown away. ‘That’s so cool.’
‘Kayla.’ Ms Maloney turns towards me, and although the microphone still picks up what she’s saying she really is speaking just to me now. ‘We are so incredibly proud of you. Myself, the vice principal, your teachers and all your peers think what you are doing for your mother is just wonderful. And that is why it makes me incredibly happy to say that the entire tally of today’s fundraiser will be donated to the Kayla’s Cakes Help Fund Me page.’
I gasp. I thought the money was for charity. I look at Mam. She’s shaking her head. Oh God. Oh God. This is not how I wanted her to find out. I look at Charlotte. She seems panicked too. Please stop talking, Mrs Maloney. Shh. Shh. Shh.
There’s some whispering on stage behind me and the rattle of trolley wheels. I turn my head over my shoulder to find Roisin Kelly and one of her friends behind me, sniggering. I didn’t notice them come on stage.
‘Thank you, girls,’ Ms Maloney says. ‘You can take your seats again now.’
I look at the trolley the girls have left behind. The school projector is on top. Mrs O’Hagan has moved to the back of the stage to pull down the white screen thingy that they project stuff on. I have no idea what is going on and bubbles of fear pop in my stomach. I look at Aiden, begging him to fill me in but he shrugs and I know he’s totally clueless too.
‘Now, if I just press this button. Um, eh, this one here.’ Mrs Maloney fiddles around with the projector and within a couple of seconds it turns on and shines the school crest onto the screen. ‘Ah ha, there we go,’ she says, excited.
I search the stage for Miss Hanlon and when I find her she’s staring back at me nodding and smiling, as if to say, ‘This is awesome, right?’
This is so not awesome. I need to get off the stage and talk to Mam. I need to explain.
‘Kayla, perhaps you would like to tell us a little bit about your wonderful fund in your own words.’
I shake my head and my eyes glass over as the school crest disappears off the screen and a screenshot of my Help Fund Me page appears in bright in-your-face colour. Magnified until it’s
bloody huge.
My name is Kayla Prendergast Doran.
I am fifteen years old and I have a stage four soft tissue cancer.
The doctors call it Ewing’s sarcoma. I call it shit!
This isn’t a Help Fund Me page asking you for money to help me buy expensive treatment. I’ve passed that point. It’s also not a page asking you to feel sorry for me. I don’t want a trip to Disney World. I don’t want to meet my favourite celebrity – although, Zac Efron, if you see this, feel free to drop by the hospital.
What I want more than anything is to get better, but I know that won’t happen. All I can do is try to make sure my mam is okay – and I need your HELP!!!
When I got sick my mam gave up her job to look after me. She makes money now baking cakes for the hospital canteen. I would really, really love if she could make money baking cakes in her own shop.
Please, please donate anything you can to help my mam set up her own bakery. I just want my mam to be okay when I’m gone.
Thank you so much,
Kayla x
I watch as the eyes of the whole school community read over my words. Charlotte, Aiden and I spent ages trying to get this wording just right. I know we put it on the internet for the whole world to see, but I always imagined the people who read it would be a world away. As if the internet was only viewed by strangers and not neighbours and friends and classmates. And definitely not by my mam. There are gasps and shocked faces as they discover how hard it’s been for Mam and me this past while.
Whispering starts among the parents first and, of course, all the students join in. I even see some of the teachers, lining the walls, chatting among themselves. Jesus. How could Mrs Maloney possibly have thought this was a good idea?
‘Kayla. Kayla.’ Mrs Maloney taps me on the shoulder. She’s so full of excitement. I’ve never seen her like this before. I don’t know how to react. Mrs Maloney’s enthusiasm combined with my shock makes my head spin.
‘I don’t have anything to say,’ I manage to splutter out. The microphone picks up my voice and broadcasts it to the whole hall.
‘Shh. Shh. Shh,’ people encourage each other, as if I’m that guy in the kilt in Braveheart who makes a mad important speech to his army before he leads them into battle. I’m not a leader. I can’t even manage to beat cancer.
I look at Mrs Maloney and I’m shaking.
‘Okay, okay,’ she says, and her excitement seems more under control and she’s more like the principal I’m used to. She turns away from the microphone and bends to whisper in my ear. ‘If you’d rather not speak, Kayla, I completely understand. I can imagine this is all a bit overwhelming. You’re very brave.’
I sigh with relief and look to Aiden and Miss Hanlon for help getting off stage. But Miss Hanlon doesn’t come to my rescue. And Aiden doesn’t even make eye contact as he stands beside me like a beetroot statue. Worst of all, Mrs Maloney doesn’t stop talking. She proceeds to tell the entire community about the hashtag trending on Twitter. About the DJs talking about Mam and me on the radio. About the calls from parents she’s been receiving all morning asking how they can help. She makes Mam and me out to be desperate or something – begging people for money to make ends meet. I know she doesn’t mean to, but I can see pity on everyone’s face as they stare at me. My mind is racing. This is not how today was supposed to go.
Mrs Maloney is saying something now about how proud of me she is. And she’s mentioning Aiden too. But I’m not really listening. My attention is on my mam. I watch as she sinks down in her chair, covering her face with her hands. I think she’s shaking her head but it’s kind of hard to tell from up here. And the she’s talking to Jack. I can see she’s getting angry. Or upset. Dad tries talking to her too. But she’s waving her hands about now. And, Oh my God, she’s standing up.
She stands up and stares at me and the last time I saw this much pain in her eyes was when I told her that I wanted to stop all treatment. Oh God what have I done? This was supposed to be a wonderful surprise. It wasn’t supposed to get announced like this in front of the whole school with everyone staring at us, whispering about us, feeling sorry for us.
I read Mam’s lips. ‘Excuse me. Excuse me,’ she says, turning towards Jack. But everyone is clapping and cheering.
I have to talk to Mam, I think. I have to get off this stage and explain that I wasn’t trying to embarrass her. Or upset her. I have to tell her that I love her.
I stand up. Unaided and taking the entire weight of my own body means that pain shoots through me like thousands of small electric shocks. It hurts so much I can’t see and everything goes black and the noise in the hall turns from cheers and chants to ringing and I know I won’t have time to sit back onto the chair before I pass out.
Fifty-One
Kayla
A million different colours fill my head as memories explode like fireworks in my mind. I remember learning to ride my first bike. It was bright pink with a purple basket in the front for my doll. Dad bought rainbow coloured streamers that we attached to the handle bars. Mam and Dad clapped and cheered when I was finally able to keep my balance by myself.
I remember Dad’s wedding. Dad was so handsome in his suit. And Charlotte had a beautiful white dress with a lace bodice and a long swishing trail. I wanted a dress just like it when I grew up and got married. I remember dancing in Dad’s arms and smiling and laughing and being the happiest girl in the world.
The day Molly was born Mam cried. She said everything would be different now that Dad had another little girl and she was worried. Mam was right, everything was different. It was better. Molly is the best little sister. She is pretty and clever and she gives the biggest squeezy hugs.
I think of Ross and Rachel on a break in Friends. I think of how Joey doesn’t share food. I think of every episode that Mam and I laughed our way through, just the two of us at home eating pizza in our pyjamas. And Mam would sometimes say that she had all her favourite things in one room. Friends, pizza and me.
‘Kayla,’ someone calls and I can feel a hand gently on my forehead. ‘Can you hear me?’
I nod, but nothing happens. I try again. I’m not moving.
‘Is she in pain?’ I recognise Mam’s voice. It’s wobbly and I know she’s crying, but it’s definitely her.
‘No.’
‘I can’t do this,’ Mam says. ‘I can’t watch her go.’
‘Have you spoken to Doctor Patterson today?’ the voice says – it’s one of the nurses, I realise. I’m back in the hospital.
‘Yeah,’ Mam sniffles. ‘This morning. He says Kayla knows what she’s asking.’
‘She really doesn’t even want to try a trial? It could give you a little time.’
‘No,’ Mam says, and I hear certainty in her voice. ‘She doesn’t want any more pain. She’s asking me to let her go.’
‘And can you?’
‘No,’ Mam sobs. ‘How can I? How can I ever let her go? You know, Jack says this Help Fund Me thing that Kayla has set up is her way of saying goodbye. He thinks she’s trying to protect me. To take care of me.’
‘And you think?’ the nurse asks.
‘I didn’t ask for this. For any of this. The media are trying to contact me. I don’t even know where they got my number. They leave me voicemails, asking if I’ll do radio or TV interviews. They say it will bring in even more donations.’
‘Is it something you might consider?’
‘No,’ Mam says, sounding hurt. ‘No it’s not. I don’t want people’s money. I just want my daughter to get better. That’s what I want. But no one can give me that. Can they?’
I hear a door creak open. There’s footsteps. They’re fading. Mam is walking away, I think. No. Don’t go. I don’t want Mam to go. I try so hard to open my eyes but they’re heavy and I’m sleepy. So sleepy.
The Christmas Santa bringing me a sparkly magic wand dances across my mind as if it’s a movie on Netflix. I watch as Mam tells me I’m a magic princess. And I tell Aiden I’ll t
urn him into a frog.
I see my first day of secondary school. My jumper is embarrassingly huge on me and Mam says, ‘You’ll grow into it.’
There’s talking at the door. It pulls me out of my lovely dreams. I hear raised voices. A man and Mam. Mam is shouting. No, crying. No, shouting. The man is Dad. He’s angry too. And then it stops. All the noise stops, and I wonder if I’m still breathing. Still here.
‘Kayla. Kayla, honey, it’s Dad. Are you okay?’
I feel lips on my forehead. Dad kisses me. It’s so nice. I want him to hug me too. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know how much I want a hug.
‘What are they saying?’ Dad asks, all whispery and stressed.
‘Not much,’ Mam says.
‘Jack thinks it’s the growth in her chest pressing on her lungs. They did a scan this morning. I thought he’d be here by now with news.’
‘And if it is? If something is pressing on her lungs…?’ Dad says.
I know Dad wants to ask what will happen. Will I be able to breathe? I want him to ask. I’m scared. I wasn’t prepared to be this scared.
‘And… I… don’t… know,’ Mam cries.
I’m flying. I’m flying over school. I see the yard, and the cool kids in the back smoking and thinking the teachers don’t know. I want to shout, ‘They do know. And they think you’re idiots.’ I see my team. I see us winning by three baskets. I see myself dribble past the captain on the other side to score the winning basket.
‘Did you know about this?’ Mam asks.
‘The Help Fund Me page?’ Dad says, and I wonder if he’s looking at something. It sounds as if he’s looking at something. Like his concentration is on reading his phone, or a letter or something. ‘Oh my God, has she really raised this much?’
‘Yeah,’ Mam says.
‘Wow.’
The Forever Gift Page 25