by Jaime Reed
Better question: How could she possibly compare the two? I hated seeing her like this, so down on herself when she’d done nothing wrong. Her parents’ divorce wasn’t her fault. Her illness wasn’t her fault, but no one could convince her otherwise. “That’s not fair. Ryon really likes you. Why do you think he came to the pool to begin with? To be with you.”
For a second, I thought I was getting through, but she rejected the idea with a shake of the head. “No. He pities me. But hey, I should be thanking you. If he dumped me now, he’d come off like a shallow jerk and his do-gooder reputation would be ruined. Well played, Janelle. Never thought you’d take a page from my playbook.”
Okay, I got that she was upset, but that was not how I rolled and she knew it. I needed to keep calm and not add more fuel to the crazy. “Lyssa, come on now, don’t say that. Maybe you can talk to Ryon and he can call off—”
She held both hands in front of my face. “Stop. Just stop talking. It’s easy to talk about problems that aren’t yours when you’re never the one in need. It’s always someone else’s misery being exploited. But it’s all for the greater good, right?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I reached for her arm, but she flinched away.
Baring her clenched teeth, she growled, “Just leave me alone, all right? Don’t follow me.” She marched off, not looking back. The hall echoed with her angry strides, a receding storm.
Halfway down the hall, Alyssa stopped next to Destiny Howell at the drinking fountain. Destiny stood straight, flipped back her twisty braids, and the two started chatting and smiling like buds from way back. They’d been getting awfully chummy these days.
I couldn’t stand Destiny. It wasn’t because she was the most popular freshman in our class. The girl was a straight-up klepto, stealing everything from chewing gum to class project ideas to hairstyles. Two days ago, she stole my chemistry homework and passed it off as hers.
Before I could save Alyssa from herself, someone bumped my arm. A box fell open and a rainbow of colored paper fanned across the floor. Falling right after it was a petite Asian girl with black hair cut in a diagonal bob.
“Oops! Sorry. I didn’t see you. This big box is in the way.” The girl swiped the papers into a pile. She was barely five feet and wore black skinny jeans, worker boots, and a red flannel shirt wrapped around her waist. But that wasn’t what caught my attention. That voice sounded like an old dude with asthma. Though one of a kind, it was very familiar.
“What’s all this?” I squatted next to her to help clean, all the while straining to place her face. I didn’t recall seeing her in any of my classes.
“Fliers for the Diabetic Awareness Rally this afternoon. We’re getting things set up in the commons. Did you know that one in four people can get the disease in their lifetime?” She touted the stat as though forced to memorize it.
Bereft and needing to be the smartest person in the room for a minute, I threw some medical trivia her way. “Which type? One or two?”
Her body went into a flash freeze. “Um, either? I mean, what’s the difference?”
Maybe I’d been hanging with Alyssa for too long or I’d binge-watched too many episodes of a certain doctor show, but the answer had me eyeing the girl like she was slow. “The pancreas, for one thing. You know, the organ that makes insulin? With type two, the body repels insulin so the pancreas is forced to make more. Type one is less common, and the body attacks itself because insulin isn’t made at all. There’s other stuff, too, but that’s the gist.”
The world’s greatest magic trick danced in her eyes. “Whoa! I really didn’t know that. To tell the truth, I’m just helping my brother in one of his bleeding-heart crusades. I wonder why he picked this topic, though. So random.”
Not really, but I wasn’t gonna spill that kind of tea. Heck, after what went down in the cafeteria, I wouldn’t even go near the cup. In any case, recognition struck me hard at the word brother. “You’re Ryon’s sister. Sera, right? Aren’t you guys twins?”
Her smile fell away as she was quick to inform me, “No, absolutely no, and in every language of the word ‘no.’ He’s older by ten months and we’re nothing alike. He’s all rainbows, butterflies, and unicorn farts, and I live in a cold, noisy place called reality. It’s actually a good thing we’re not twins since I would’ve probably eaten him in the womb. Survival of the fittest and all that.”
Cynical and slightly morbid. I liked her already. “You’ve pretty much described my sister to the letter. Siblings aren’t so bad, though, and yours is a sweetheart. In fact, my friend’s dating him.” I pointed over my shoulder.
“What? This is news to me. Where is she? What friend?” Sera looked around the empty hallway.
I looked back to the water fountain and found Alyssa and Destiny gone. Searching the hall from corner to corner, I was left asking the same question. What friend?
Okay, I was confused. When you told someone not to blab about something, that meant not having an open forum discussion during our student council meeting. I’d assumed that was a given.
My warning must have gotten lost in translation, because Ryon stood behind the podium, set down his notes, and blurted out, “Janelle is donating a kidney to Alyssa.” No transition, no lead-up, no oh, by the way.
My hands shot into the air. “I’m sorry. What does that have to do with the cleanup project or the Thanksgiving parade or midterm exams?”
Joel Metcalf, who sat at my left, swiveled in his seat to gawk at me. “You’re going to give Alyssa a kidney? But you’re black.”
The dumbness was on and poppin’ today, and so was my sarcasm. “I’ll take your word for it, being that I was taught to not see color.”
Joel must’ve taken the statement literally. “Really? But you can see tints, though, right? Even from a black-and-white photo, it’s obvious you’re several shades darker than Alyssa.”
The meeting had just started and fondue boy was getting on my nerves. “Your point being?”
“Is that even scientifically possible? I mean, genetics and all that?” he asked.
I turned to Tabatha. “You hear that?” I pointed to Joel. “That right there was racist. Sic ’em!”
“I’m not racist! White blood cells are racist!” Joel cried in his defense. “It’s science. The blood groups have to be similar. That’s why the best matches are from relatives.”
Feigning a yawn, I inspected my nails. “My lab results say I fit the profile. I have a universal blood type—”
“But it’s not just blood, though,” Joel disputed. “Seriously, how do you give a black kidney to a white person?”
Tabatha jumped into the ring, gloves on. “Why is this such a big deal for you?” she demanded of Joel. “It’s not the skin color that matters. Kidneys are pink. It’s DNA and tissue. Some match and some don’t. Move. On.”
“Joel’s got a point.” Devon Shapiro spoke up. “Blood groups have a unique code that’s passed on by the parents. But this is America. Everybody’s mixed with something around here. I’ve got Cherokee in my family.”
“So Janelle and Alyssa are related?” Joel’s eyes widened in surprise. “That makes so much more sense now.”
The others groaned, not bothering to correct him, likely for fear of losing brain cells.
Devon covered his face with his hands and mumbled, “Joel, you are a prime example of why the gene pool needs a lifeguard.”
“I’m just stuck on one thing.” I scratched my scalp with my pencil. “What part of medical board review do you not understand, Ryon?”
“You said you passed your medical exam, so you’re good. Besides, Alyssa said she knows,” he replied.
“Did she tell you that she refused to have the operation?” I asked. “So this whole announcement was a waste of time.”
Ryon leaned over the podium, his hands gripping its edges. “She what?” he yelled.
“Yeah, she doesn’t want me interfering in her life, so I’ll respect her wishes.”
/> “I’ll talk to her,” he said with confidence.
He was gonna need all the confidence in the world to get her to change her mind. So far no one could, not her mother, not Dr. Brighton. Even Grandma Trina grew concerned about her decision.
“You think the child just wanna die in peace?” she’d asked at the breakfast table this morning.
“No lo sé. But when you’ve suffered for as long as she has, sometimes death is a relief,” Mateo replied thoughtfully, and buttered his toast.
I wasn’t trying to hear that defeatist mess. Alyssa wasn’t the type to just give up on life, although she never really had a choice on the kind of life she wanted. But she had a choice now, and she was throwing it away over stupid pride.
It was fair to say that nothing got achieved during our Tuesday meeting. All conversation gathered around me and Alyssa. The girl bathed in the spotlight three times a day, but I preferred to soak in private. Sera had her own private immersion going on throughout the meeting. She sat next to Devon at the end of the row and looked away from me the entire time.
After the bell, I ambled to her desk as she shoved books into her messenger bag. Devon skirted behind her, whispered something that made her smile, and then sauntered away as cool as he pleased. Had I missed something?
“Wow. I see y’all are getting along,” I said. “Is it official?”
Her smile fell with a slam I could almost hear. “Not yet. We’re just talking.”
She got up and I followed her to the door. “What’s with the silent treatment?”
She spun around; her straight ponytail almost slapped me in the face. “What’s with you not telling me that you were going to donate a kidney to Alyssa Weaver?”
Oh, that. “I did sorta tell you. You weren’t really feeling that idea then, and by the looks of it, not much has changed.”
“But why?” Sera demanded.
“Why you got it in for Alyssa? I don’t know. My guess would be a thin skin and unresolved emotional trauma.” I’d learned that from Dr. Langhorne.
Clearly, Sera was not impressed with my new interest in psychology. “I mean, why go through all that trouble? You could die, you know? You won’t have a kidney. What if you start having problems with the other one later on in life?”
“Well, I won’t because I’m not doing it. Alyssa said no. Plus, the remaining kidney would grow bigger and pick up the slack.”
“What if the kidney stops working altogether?”
Was this a pop quiz? “Then I’d be first in line for a kidney donation. That’s one of the perks of being an organ donor. You automatically shoot to the front of the line if things go south. No waiting list for me. But that’s all speculation because she doesn’t want to do it.” I spoke really slowly so she could catch that last part.
Sera’s whole body language screamed challenge: crossed arms, pinched lips, one leg kicked out. “What if she changes her mind? Do you really think it’s worth it?”
Do you really think it’s not? “That would imply some sort of profit. There’s no money to be made. There is no fame to be had, and I’d have months of pain and rehabilitation to look forward to. I’m taking Ls all around. I’d be doing this because a friend deserves a better life. If I’m her one chance at having it, then I’d give it to her. No charge. No start-up fee.”
Sera reared back as if I’d spat on her. “I thought you guys weren’t friends?”
So did I. Sort of. “It’s complicated.”
“Doesn’t sound complicated to me. Sounds like you made up your mind already.”
I nodded. “I had, but it doesn’t matter now. I just wish you could’ve at least been happy for me. Or at the very, very least been supportive of my decision.”
You would’ve thought I asked for her kidney. “Sorry,” Sera said softly. “I don’t think I can do that. Not with her. This is a good thing, though. You would’ve thrown your life away over someone who isn’t worth it.”
“Who are you to say who is worth saving and who isn’t? She’s not a serial killer or a terrorist, Sera. She’s just like you and me.”
She sucked her teeth and hurried to the door again. “Whatever.”
I blocked her exit. “Just so you know, that is the worst read ever invented. That’s right up there with ‘yo momma.’ ” I took a breath. “I really could’ve used you in my corner. But now I see that you’re no better than the Borg that you hate so much. You think they’re fake and stupid and conceited. Yet you’re standing here, telling me to let someone die because they hurt your feelings. Who’s the fake around here?” I turned to go, then doubled back. “Oh! And that’s a read. Take notes.”
After school, Mateo and I each headed home at the same time. Claiming the prized parking spot in the driveway turned into a scene out of The Fast and the Furious. There was a lot of engine revving and glaring behind the wheel while waiting for the street light to change. Tires screeched and smoke clouded the asphalt as we tore through the residential area at a breakneck speed of thirty miles per hour. Grandma Trina’s van was already in the driveway, and her lopsided parking only allowed room for smaller cars to squeeze through it. Mateo and his monster truck were left sitting curbside while I claimed the victory.
“You didn’t win,” he explained, then followed me to the front door. “As a gentleman, it seemed the proper thing to do to let you have the driveway.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.” I stole a quick glance at him from over my shoulder. He looked more amused than annoyed, though both expressions were clear on his face.
Two pleasant surprises greeted us upon entering the house. One: No dogs bum-rushed us at the door. And two: There was a new houseguest sitting in the living room.
Mateo’s book bag slid from his shoulder and hit the floor with a loud thud. “Mom?”
“Hi, mijo!” Swaddled in an old quilt, Mrs. Alvarez sat on the couch, watching daytime soaps with Grandma Trina. The woman must have been no more than five feet tall, with long black hair that reached her waist. Her honey complexion looked gray from lack of sun. Her feet, both in casts, were propped on the coffee table.
Her stay here had been a foregone conclusion. We’d cleared out the extra room and prepared comfortable bedding, but we hadn’t expected her early arrival. Mateo certainly hadn’t, and he all but knocked me down at the door on his way to reach his mother’s side.
He bent low for a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me you checked out?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Her chubby arms wrapped around her son’s waist.
“Yeah, it is,” he said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Chuckling, she patted his broad back. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”
“Well, Mateo, I’m doubly glad you’re here, so you can carry her rusty tail upstairs.” Grandma Trina pointed to the wheelchair by the sofa. “She’s gotta use that thing to get around for a while, but this house ain’t all that accessible. I’m not about to break my back takin’ nobody up them stairs, so you do it. You’re young. You’ve got less to lose.”
Mateo stooped to gather his mom’s legs, but she shooed him away. “No, no, not yet, mijo. I want to stay and see if that woman died in that fire.” She craned her neck over his shoulder to see the TV.
We all turned, then winced at some shirtless dude covered in soot roaming a burnt mansion, shouting, “No! Maria! Nooo!” in the worst performance to ever hit the small screen.
“Child, please. You know they’re gonna have her come back as a lost twin or somethin’,” Grandma Trina told Mateo’s mom. “Now, go on up there and get some rest. It’s time for your medication. There’s a TV up in the room anyway.”
The shirtless guy had nothing on Mateo, and watching him carry his mom to the second floor had me planning our wedding. When he reached the top of the stairs, his eyes met mine. A coy smile curled his lips before he vanished around the corner.
I’d need help getting up the stairs myself because my legs were too weak to move. I found myself
wondering: What would it be like to have Mateo carry me over the threshold? Preferably shirtless. Or better yet, he’d carry me through the church doors, where guests would toss rose petals and confetti. We weren’t allowed to throw rice anymore because it killed the birds and—
“Janelle!” Grandma Trina clapped her hands an inch from my face. Eyeing me askance, she asked, “Girl, what is your problem? You act like you never seen a boy before.”
“Nothing.” I scooped up my bag, raced upstairs, and hid inside my room.
I paced the rug at the foot of my bed, mouth dry, hands shaking, as red-hot electrodes surged through my system. A drunken giddiness I hadn’t felt in years had me laughing at nothing and bursting to share the experience. The words had to be spoken aloud or else it never happened. More important, I needed to know what that smile had meant. Was I reading too much into it?
Needing an expert opinion, I dug into my bag, grabbed my phone, and dialed Alyssa. She had a creepy sixth sense about these things and could interpret all hidden guy signals. Every detail was crucial to what my next move should be, so she—
It was around the second ring when the realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. My thumb punched the END button before her voice mail could pick up. I dropped the phone on my desk and backed away until my legs hit the bed.
Once again, just as had happened in Alyssa’s room, I’d gotten sucked in a strange loop in time. It took a few seconds to remember where we were and what we weren’t anymore.
It then dawned on me that I had no one to share this moment with. Alyssa hated me, I couldn’t even look at Sera right now, and Sheree was out of the country, which left me 100 percent bestie-free. For the first time in ages, I was sans buddy. I was minus one. Sheree was right. I’d need stamina and stiff principles to get through the rough parts. They couldn’t get any rougher than this.
Stars covered the entire ceiling. Not just stars, but constellations, planets, and meteors named after celebrities. From wall to wall, an LED galaxy glowed in the semidarkness. The Air and Space Museum had a number of exhibits on each floor, but this one had me both speechless and jealous at first sight. Jealous because my ceiling at home looked bargain-bin busted by comparison. And speechless at how the creative team fit the entire Milky Way in a gym-size room.