He’s leaving. Will’s leaving. I grip at the sheets as a different kind of pain takes over.
He smiles at me, looking down and pulling out his phone. Behind me, my phone starts ringing. Julie brings it to me, putting it on speaker. I open my mouth to speak, to say something, to tell him to stay, but nothing comes out.
The ventilator tube hisses.
I try to somehow tell him through my look not to leave. That I need him.
He gives me a faint smile, and I see the tears in his blue eyes. “Finally, I’ve got you speechless,” he says, his voice pouring out of the phone.
He raises his hand, putting it up against the glass of the window. I weakly raise mine, resting it on top of his, the glass just the latest thing keeping us apart.
I want to scream.
Stay.
“People in the movies are always saying, ‘You have to love someone enough to let them go.’ ” He shakes his head, swallowing, struggling to speak. “I always thought that was such bullshit. But seeing you almost die . . .”
His voice trails off, and my fingers curl against the cool window, wanting to smash it, but I can barely manage a knock. “In that moment nothing else mattered to me. Nothing. Except your life.”
He presses harder too, his voice shaking as he continues. “The only thing I want is to be with you. But I need for you to be safe. Safe from me.”
He fights to continue, tears streaming down his face. “I don’t want to leave you, but I love you too much to stay.” He laughs through his tears, shaking his head. “God, the freakin’ movies were right.”
He leans his head against the window where my hand rests. I can feel it, even through the glass. I can feel him.
“I will love you forever,” he says, looking up so we’re face-to-face, the both of us silently seeing the same pain in each other’s eyes. My heart slowly cracks under the new scar.
My breath fogs up the glass, and one more time I lift a shaking finger, drawing a heart.
“Will you please close your eyes?” he asks, his voice breaking. “I’m not gonna be able to walk away from you if you’re looking at me.”
But I refuse. He looks up, seeing the defiance in my face. But the certainty in his surprises me.
“Don’t worry about me,” he says, smiling through the tears. “If I stop breathing tomorrow, know that I wouldn’t change a thing.”
I love him. And he’s about to leave my life forever so that I can have a life to live.
“Please close your eyes,” he begs, his jaw tightening. “Let me go.”
I take a moment to memorize his face, every inch of it, and finally I force my eyes shut as sobs rack my body, fighting with the ventilator.
He’s leaving.
Will’s leaving.
When I open my eyes, he will be gone.
Tears stream down my face as I feel him walk away, much farther than the five feet that we agreed on. That was always between us.
I open my eyes slowly, some part of me still hoping he’ll be on the other side of the glass. But all I see are the twinkling lights in the courtyard and a town car in the distance, disappearing into the night.
My fingertips reach up, shaking, as I touch his lip print on the window. His final kiss good-bye.
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
CHAPTER 30
WILL
The speaker in the airport terminal crackles to life, a muffled voice breaking through the morning chatter and the suitcase wheels clunking over the tiled floor. I pull out one of my earbuds to hear the voice, worried about a gate change and having to go cross-airport with a pair of shitty lungs. “Your attention please, passengers for Icelandair flight 616 to Stockholm . . .”
I put my earbud back in. Not my flight. I’m not going to Sweden until December.
Settling back into the armchair, I pull up YouTube for the millionth time, making my way as usual to Stella’s last video. If YouTube kept track of individual views, the police definitely would have been sent to my house by now, I’d seem like such a stalker. But I don’t care, because this video is about us. And when I press play, she tells our story.
“Human touch. Our first form of communication,” she says, her voice loud and clear. She takes a deep breath, her new lungs working wonderfully.
That breath is my favorite part of the whole video. There’s no struggle. No wheezing. It’s perfect and smooth. Effortless.
“Safety, security, comfort, all in the gentle caress of a finger, or the brush of lips on a soft cheek,” she says, and I look up from my iPad to the crowded airport around me, people coming and going, heavy bags in tow, but even so, she’s right. From the long hugs at arrival, to the reassuring hands on shoulders in the security line, even a young couple, arms around each other, waiting at the gate, touch is everywhere.
“We need that touch from the one we love, almost as much as we need air to breathe. I never understood the importance of touch, his touch . . . until I couldn’t have it.”
I can see her. Five feet away from me, that night at the pool, walking to see the lights, on the other side of the glass that last night, always that longing between us to close the gap.
I pause the video just to take her in.
She looks . . . so much better than I ever saw her in person. No portable oxygen. No dark circles under her eyes.
She was always beautiful to me, but now she is free. She is alive.
Every single day I still find myself wishing I hadn’t left, reliving the moment of walking away, my legs like cement blocks, being pulled like a magnet back to her window. I think that pull, that hurt, will always be there. But all I have to do is see her like this to know it was worth it a million times over.
A notification appears on my screen from her app, telling me to take my midmorning meds. I smile at the dancing pill bottle emoji. It’s like a portable Stella that I always have with me, looking over my shoulder, reminding me to do my treatments. Reminding me of the importance of more time.
“You ready to go, man?” Jason says, nudging me as they open the door to start loading the plane to Brazil. I give him a big smile, down my meds dry, and slide my pillbox back into my backpack, zipping it up.
“Born ready.”
I’m finally going to see the places I’ve dreamed of.
I have a checkup in every city, which was one of three conditions my mom put in place before letting me go. The other two were simple. I have to send her as many pictures as possible, and Skype her every Monday evening, no matter what. Aside from that, I can finally live my life how I want. And, for once, that includes fighting right alongside her.
We’ve finally found common ground.
I stand, taking a deep breath as I pull the strap of my portable oxygen farther up on my thin shoulder. But the breath gets caught in my throat almost as soon as I inhale. Because through all the airport chatter and chaos, just above the rattling of the mucus in my lungs, I hear my favorite sound in the world.
Her laugh. It tinkles like bells, and I pull out my phone immediately, certain I’ve left the video playing in my pocket. But the screen is dark, and the sound isn’t tinny or distant.
It’s just a few feet away.
My legs know I should just go, board my flight, keep moving. But my eyes are already searching. I have to know.
It takes me about six seconds to spot her, and I’m not even surprised that when I do, her eyes are right on mine.
Stella was always the one to find me first.
CHAPTER 31
STELLA
“What happened to winging it, Stella? Doing it ‘Abby Style,’ ” Mya says, nudging me playfully.
I glance up from my itinerary, laughing as I carefully fold it and put it into my back pocket. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” I smirk at her and Camila, proud of my Vatican City joke. “Get it? Rome?”
Camila laughs, rolling her eyes. “New lungs, but not a new sense of humor.”
I take a deep breath at her words, my lungs effortlessly expanding and contracting.
It’s still so wonderful, I can hardly believe it. These past eight months have been bittersweet, to say the least. My new lungs are amazing, the physical pain of the surgery gradually giving way to a whole new life. My parents are back together, and we’re all finally starting to mend, too. Like my new lungs, it hasn’t fixed everything that’s broken. The losses of Abby and Poe are pains I don’t think I’ll ever fully get over. Just like I know that no matter what, some part of me will never get over Will. And that’s okay.
The pain reminds me that they were here, that I’m alive.
Thanks to Will I have so much more life to live. So much more time. Aside from his love, it was the greatest gift I could ever receive. And I can’t believe now that I almost didn’t take it.
I gaze around the airport at the high ceilings and the wide windows, excitement coursing through my veins as we walk to gate 17 for our flight to Rome. A trip I can finally take. To Vatican City and the Sistine Chapel and the first of so many things I want to do and see. It isn’t with Abby, and I certainly won’t be crossing off that one item on Will’s bucket list, but just going makes me feel closer to them.
I realize as we walk that I’m setting the pace, Camila and Mya following right behind. I would have keeled over from this much walking a few months ago, but now it feels like I could just keep going.
“Everyone in for a picture!” Mya says when we find our gate, holding up her phone as we squeeze together, smiling big for the camera.
After the flash we pull apart and I glance down at my phone to see a picture from my mom of my dad eating breakfast, his eggs and bacon in the shape of a sad face with the caption MISS YOU ALREADY, STELL! Send pictures!
I laugh, nudging Mya. “Hey, make sure you send it to my parents; they’ve already been asking nonstop for pictures of . . .”
My voice trails off as I see that her mouth is open in shock, and she’s staring at Camila.
“What? Did I do that thing with my face again?” Camila asks, sighing loudly. “I don’t know why I keep smiling like that—”
Mya holds up her hand to cut her off, her eyes flicking urgently to a big group of people waiting to board their plane, finally focusing on something behind me. Camila inhales sharply.
I turn around, following her gaze, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as my eyes travel down the long line of people.
My heart begins to beat faster when my eyes land on Jason.
And then I know. I know he’s there even before I see him.
Will.
I stand, frozen in place as he looks up and our eyes lock, the familiar blue that I’ve dreamed about for so long almost knocking me off my feet. He’s still sick, portable oxygen slung over his shoulder, his face gaunt and tired. It’s almost a physical pain to see him like this, to feel my lungs filling anew when his can’t.
But then his mouth turns up into that lopsided smile and the world melts away. It’s Will. It’s really him. He’s sick, but alive. We both are.
I take a deep, unhindered breath and walk over to him, stopping exactly six feet away from him. His eyes are warm as he takes me in. No portable oxygen, no difficulty breathing, no nose cannula.
I’m practically a different Stella.
Except for one thing.
I smile at him, and take just that one more stolen step, until we’re five feet apart.
AUTHORS’ NOTE
The drug Cevaflomalin that Will participates in a trial for is a fictional creation. We hope that one day such a treatment is found.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Rachael
First and foremost, this book is for the thousands of individuals around the world with cystic fibrosis. I hope with all my heart that it will raise awareness for CF and will help each and every one of you feel heard.
Thank you to Mikki Daughtry and Tobias Iaconis for trusting me with your beautiful screenplay and the story of Will and Stella. It was an honor to be able to work with the two of you.
I am extremely grateful to Simon & Schuster for the opportunity, and my amazing editor, Alexa Pastor, who is absolutely brilliant at what she does.
Huge thanks to my agent, Rachel Ekstrom Courage, at Folio Literary Management for all her help.
Also to the most wonderful of mentors, Siobhan Vivian.
To my best friend, Lianna Rana, the Monday Night Trivia Crew of Larry Law, Alyssa Zolkiewicz, Kyle Richter, and Kat Loh, and to Judy Derrick: Your abundance of support and love has been overwhelming. I couldn’t have done this without you.
Special thanks to my mom, who has believed in me since the day I was born. You simply redefine what it means to be a single parent, and I am eternally grateful for your strength and bravery and care through the years.
And, finally, to my love, Alyson Derrick. Thank you, thank you, thank you for being exactly who you are. You are light itself.
Mikki & Tobias
This story is dedicated to Claire Wineland and to all the CFers who still bravely fight the battle against cystic fibrosis. Claire’s courage and perseverance in the face of her lifelong illness should be a lesson to us all. Keep fighting, keep smiling, keep calm. We knew her for but a short time, yet her influence on our lives will continue for the rest of our days. Her contributions to this story were immense. Her contributions to the story of humanity were, and will forever be, endless.
To Justin Baldoni, who never takes “no” for an answer. Justin’s dedication, drive, and compassion have inspired us in every way. His unwavering vision for this project taught us that with talent, focus, and ambition, great things can happen. We thank him from the bottom of our hearts.
To Cathy Schulman, whose twenty-four-hour on-call presence was never more needed than at three a.m. Cathy’s knowledge, experience, and creative wisdom elevated every page, every scene. It was an honor and a joy to watch her work. And she let us hold her Oscar. Now THAT was a thrill!
To Terry Press, Mark Ross, Sean Ursani, and the entire CBS Films team. We count ourselves so very fortunate for their guiding hands at every turn. None of this would have been possible without their faith in this project. We got to work with a true dream team and each day we felt blessed beyond belief.
And to Rachael Lippincott, whose Herculean efforts to novelize this story were amazing to watch and even more amazing to read. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Without the tireless efforts of everyone involved, there would be no screenplay. There would be no movie. There would be no book. For all of this, we are forever grateful.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Rachael Lippincott was born in Philadelphia and raised in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. She holds a BA in English writing from the University of Pittsburgh. She currently resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, splitting her time between writing and running a food truck with her partner.
Mikki Daughtry is from Atlanta, Georgia. She graduated from Brenau University, where she studied theater arts. She is now a screenwriter living in Los Angeles.
Tobias Iaconis was born in Germany to an American father and a German mother. He studied English literature at Haverford College near Philadelphia and now works as a screenwriter in Los Angeles, where he lives with his wife and son.
Visit us at simonandschuster.com/teen
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Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Tobias-Iaconis
Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Lippincott, Rachael, author. | Daughtry, Mikki, author. | Iaconis, Tobias, 1971– author.
Title: Five feet apart / Rachael Lippincott ; with Mikki Daughtry with Tobias Iaconis.
Description: New York, New York : Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2018. | Summary: Seventeen-year-olds Stella and Will, both suffering from cystic fibrosis, realize the only way to stay alive is to stay apart, but their love for each other is slowly pushing the boundaries of physical and emotional safety.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018029446 (print) | LCCN 2018037927 (ebook) | ISBN 9781534437333 (hardback) | ISBN 9781534437357 (Ebook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Cystic fibrosis—Fiction. | Love—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.L568 (ebook) | LCC PZ7.1.L568 Fi 2018 (print) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018029446
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