by Nancy N. Rue
Willoughby shook the curls that sprang out from the edges of the bandana she had tied around her head. Only Willoughby could look good in something like that, Sophie decided.
“No,” she said, “let’s make a movie about all the things Kitty is missing — you know — us.”
“I love it,” Darbie said. “Don’t you love it, Sophie?”
Sophie was already pulling her camera off the bookshelf.
Before they started, Willoughby did everyone’s hair and went through Sophie’s closet and drawers to put together outfits that would, as she put it, work for the camera.
“There’s still a bit of the Corn Pop in you,” Darbie said as Willoughby tied the sleeves of one of Sophie’s hooded sweatshirts around her neck, because tall Darbie couldn’t actually fit into any of Sophie’s tiny tops.
“My dad says there’s nothing wrong with looking your best as long as it’s not all you think about,” Willoughby said. “THAT would be the Corn Pops.”
When they all met with Willoughby’s approval, they set out to shoot. Corn Flakes piled on the bed. Corn Flakes in a circle on a blanket in the backyard discussing stuff. Corn Flakes making lasagna for the K-crew. But a lot of what they wanted to do was impossible because they didn’t have Maggie or Fiona.
I just hope they aren’t having too heinous of a time, Sophie thought.
But she knew nobody was having as heinous a go of it as Kitty. No matter how good it felt to be finally doing something for her, Sophie was still flattened by sadness when she crawled into bed that night. She closed her eyes and brought Jesus into view.
I mean it, she prayed to him, no matter how hard it is, I will do anything you want me to for Kitty. It doesn’t feel like what I’m doing is hard enough.
Usually it took at least a few days for Sophie to see an answer when she really, really asked Jesus a question. But the very next morning, she woke up to what seemed to be the very thing she was asking for.
There was an envelope next to her cereal bowl when Sophie climbed onto the snack bar stool. It had her name on it, but she didn’t recognize the handwriting.
“The Colonel dropped it off on his way to the base,” Mama said. “It’s from Kitty.”
Mystified, Sophie tore open the envelope and unfolded the paper.
Sophie, it said, I’m Sebastian, writing exactly what Kitty tells me to. She makes me wait on her hand and foot.
Sophie felt herself grinning. She could clearly imagine Kitty beaming her dimples at the cute nurse while he took dictation with the pink gel pen.
Sebastian’s note from Kitty was a numbered list of only five things:
1. I need more letters from Corn Flakes. I can tape them to my walls.
“We’ll write every single day,” Sophie said. “Maybe twice a day.”
2. I need to see my Corn Flakes. I can’t have visitors right now because I might get germs — like you guys actually have any!Hello? I might go mental if I don’t get to see you SOON. (Sebastian says I already am.)
Sophie smiled at the paper. The film was going to be perfect for that.
3. I need some school clothes. My mom keeps telling me not to worry about stuff like that because I might not be well enough to start school, but if I don’t think about clothes then I’ll worry too much about what’s gonna happen to me next. (Sebastian says to PLEASE bring me some clothes because he’s tired of hearing about it.)
Sophie paused on that one. She didn’t exactly have the money to go to the mall and buy Kitty a new wardrobe. She and the Corn Flakes would figure something out. So far this was actually pretty easy. But that thought popped like a soda bubble when Sophie read the next item.
4. I want to talk to Dr. Amy again — you know, Fiona’s mom. She explains things better than anybody. (Sebastian says what is he, chopped liver?) My mom says I shouldn’t bother her because Dr.Amy is way busy — but would you ask her to call me? She’s really nice — I know she’ll do it if she knows I HAVE to talk to her.
Sophie put the paper down and swung her legs. I can’t tell Fiona’s mom to call her, she thought. I promised Fiona we wouldn’t listen to her mom tell the worst things that could happen.
She propped her cheeks on her hands with her elbows on the counter and pretended to study the list. But all she could see was Fiona having a meltdown. But a worse image was listening to Dr. Bunting tell Kitty — whatever it was she might say. In that image, Kitty was having a meltdown.
Sophie knew she would scratch that item off with a Sharpie if she didn’t move on down the list.
5. I need some hair — and not a wig, because they look fake. Mine is already falling out. Sebastian says I look cute, but he’s just being nice. I look heinous. (Sebastian asked me how to spell that. Like I KNOW! I wish Fiona were here. I wish all of you were here. I love you. I miss you.)
At the bottom, Kitty had signed her own name. The letters were bravely rounded, and she had put a wobbly heart for the dot. Sophie looked at it until she couldn’t see it for the tears.
Why did you put those last two on there, Kitty? Sophie thought. One’s too hard, and the other one’s impossible. I can’t do this.
She closed her eyes to stop the tears before they splashed into her Cheerios. And there was Jesus, right where she’d left him — when she’d said no matter how hard it was that she would do whatever he said.
“Is that Kitty’s list?” Mama said. She poured apple juice into Sophie’s glass.
“Yes,” Sophie said. “And I have to find a way to give her everything on it.”
Ten
The first two needs on Kitty’s list were easy to meet, just as Sophie had thought — especially since, when she and Darbie got to church on Sunday, Maggie was there waiting for them.
“Mags!” Sophie cried and threw her arms around her.
Maggie hugged her back, and Sophie knew she had missed her. Maggie didn’t hug that much.
“Get your brain ready, Maggie,” Darbie said, “because we have loads to tell you.”
That very afternoon they met at Sophie’s — Willoughby too — and wrote letters to Kitty so whichever K-sister was going to Portsmouth the next day could take them. They each wrote another one to be opened the next day after that. By the time they were finished, they’d practically used up Sophie’s entire supply of stickers and every color of her gel pens.
Then, of course, they added to the Mission: Kitty film — after Willoughby did her makeover magic on Maggie. That gave Sophie what Fiona would call a “scathingly brilliant idea.”
“I know how we can get Kitty some school clothes!” she said.
“Fiona’s not here, Sophie,” Darbie said. “And I don’t think her dad’s going to give us his credit card.”
“No!” Sophie said. “Willoughby could do some outfits for Kitty using some of OUR clothes.”
It took a minute for that to settle in. Then everyone talked at once.
“Aunt Emily is about to give away the things I just grew out of.”
“I have stuff I NEVER wear.”
“My mom will sew them so they’ll fit Kitty.”
Willoughby was already headed for Sophie’s closet. “I’m going in!” she said.
By the next afternoon, after Darbie, Willoughby, and Maggie had brought over whatever their parents would let them part with, and Willoughby had put together outfits that they were sure would make the Corn Pops drool, the first three items on Kitty’s list were checked off.
When they were gone, Sophie sat staring at the fourth request. Kitty wanted to talk to “Dr. Amy.”
I promised Fiona, she thought. But I promised Jesus too.
Fiona. God. It wasn’t like there was a real choice to make. But Sophie gave it one last prayer try.
Jesus, could you just pop Fiona right down here in front of me, so I can at least explain to her?
She even waited five minutes. Fiona did not fall from the sky. Sophie dialed the phone.
“Bunting residence, Genevieve speaking,” said the smooth voice on
the other end.
“Hi, this is Sophie.”
“Sophie! How nice to hear your voice!”
Sophie sagged onto the step, where she sat with the phone. “How nice to hear yours too.”
“I was going to call YOU tonight. I have a message for you from Fiona.”
“Is she okay?” Sophie said.
“If ‘okay’ means she’s so miserable she didn’t even use any three-syllable words on the phone — sure — she’s okay.”
“No,” Sophie said, “she’s wretched.”
Genevieve gave an agreeing murmur. “Any messages for her from you?”
“Tell her I miss her so much I’m going off my nut,” Sophie said.
“Done. What else you got?”
Sophie squeezed the phone. She could just hang up now.
I could also, like, die of a guilty conscience, she thought.
“I need to talk to Dr. Bunting,” she said.
Genevieve laughed softly. “Did you really think she was HERE?”
“Oh,” Sophie said. “Duh.”
“I could give her a message for you.”
Sophie sucked in her breath. This could be the perfect solution. If she had Genevieve tell Dr. Bunting that Kitty wanted to talk to her, Fiona might not be so mad at her.
“Could you just tell her — ”
Sophie got a sudden picture of Genevieve taking down her message on the official pad in the kitchen — and Dr. Bunting putting it into a pocket with all the rest of her messages — and getting to it somewhere between operations —
“ ‘Tell her — ,’ ” Genevieve said.
“Could you just ask her to call me REALLY soon?” Sophie said. “It’s about Kitty — and it’s really, really important.”
“I’ll write URGENT on it,” Genevieve said. “And I’ll make sure she gets it as soon as she gets home.” Sophie could almost see Genevieve smiling. “If she gets in at three o’clock in the morning, do you mind if I give it to her tomorrow?”
“That’s fine,” Sophie said. “I don’t think my parents would like it if she called in the middle of the night.”
“Probably not.”
“Well — thanks,” Sophie said.
“Sophie?” Genevieve said.
“Yeah?”
“I miss you. Maybe I’ll bring Izzy and Rory over to play with Zeke if it’s okay with your mom. Then you and I can talk.”
“That would be great!” Sophie said.
When they hung up, Sophie didn’t know whether to feel better because Genevieve might come over and make everything fall into the place where it was supposed to be, or to go nuts every time the phone rang after that because it might be Dr. Bunting calling.
She was lying across her bed with her head hanging upside down when Lacie came in.
“I don’t even want to know,” Lacie said.
“Fiona told me one time that if you let all the blood go to your head, you can think better,” Sophie said.
“Is it working?” Lacie said.
“I don’t know yet.”
Lacie climbed up beside her and hung her own head over the side.
“All it’s doing is giving me a headache,” she said after a minute. She sat up, and Sophie rolled onto her side.
“What are you trying to think about?” Lacie said.
“Hair.”
Lacie tugged at a piece of Sophie’s. “You definitely have enough of it. Your hair’s thicker than mine now.”
“Not MY hair,” Sophie said. “Kitty’s.”
“Is she losing hers already?”
Sophie nodded. “And I promised God — you know, Jesus — I’d get her anything she needed. And she says she needs hair — and she says a wig looks fake.”
“She’s right about that — unless it’s a good one — and those are WAY expensive.”
Sophie flopped her head down on the mattress. “If I could, I’d give her mine.”
Lacie leaped off the bed and pulled open Sophie’s desk drawer.
“What are you doing?” Sophie said.
“Looking for a ruler. Hang your head down again.”
“Why?”
“Just do it. I’m gonna measure your hair.”
Sophie flung her head over again, and Lacie got on her knees and went at it with the ruler. Then she rocked back and sat on her heels.
“I heard about this one thing, Soph,” she said. “And I think you CAN give Kitty your hair.”
“Are you serious?”
“Come on.” Lacie grabbed Sophie’s arm. “We have to get on the Net.”
Daddy was alone in his study, the glare of the computer screen on his face, when the two of them skidded to a stop in the doorway.
“Uh-oh,” he said. “How much is this going to cost me?”
“All we need is ten minutes on the Internet, Daddy,” Lacie said.
“Now I KNOW it’s going to cost me. Okay, what are we looking up?”
“I think it’s called Love Locks or something like that.”
Daddy leveled his blue eyes at Lacie. “LOVE Locks? You don’t need to be looking at a dating service, Lacie.”
“It’s about HAIR, Daddy! It’s Locks of Love — that’s it.”
He looked at both of them and then tapped his fingers on the keys. Sophie stared at the screen, her heart pounding. She could actually give her hair to Kitty? How could that be?
“Is this it?” Daddy said.
“Yes — that’s totally it. Listen, Soph.”
Lacie read from the screen about how Locks of Love took donations of hair and made them into beautiful, realistic wigs for people who were suffering from hair loss due to chemotherapy. The wigs, it said, were free to the patients.
“It says hair has to be at least ten inches long.”
“How long is mine?” Sophie said.
“Ten inches from your chin to the ends. That would still leave you enough for a really cute bob or something.”
Sophie looked at the pictures of the girls with their wigs that looked like their own hair. Their faces were puffy and some of them looked too old in their eyes. But they were all smiling, because they weren’t bald.
“How old do you have to be to donate?” Sophie said.
“Scroll down, Daddy,” Lacie said.
Daddy leaned the desk chair back and looked at Sophie.
“You really thinking about doing this, Soph?” he said.
“It’s for Kitty,” she said.
“Hair grows back, you know,” he said.
“And mine grows really fast. It’ll be long again before seventh grade’s over.”
“I was talking about Kitty’s hair,” Daddy said.
Then he turned back to the computer and scrolled down. Sophie thought his eyes looked wet.
“Okay,” he said. “Looks like you made the team.” He shook his head. “Now all we have to do is convince your mother.”
Lacie and Sophie slept on the couch in the family room so they could catch Mama the minute she and Daddy went to the kitchen the next morning. From the way Mama was grinding the coffee beans until they were probably in a fine powder, Sophie could tell Daddy had told her about Locks of Love.
Lacie opened her mouth, a plea already outlined in her eyes as far as Sophie could tell, but Daddy shook his head at them and nodded at the snack bar stools. They climbed onto them, Sophie tucking her legs under her so she’d be high enough to beg Mama straight in the eyes if it came to that. It looked like it was going to.
Mama poured the water into the coffeepot, pushed bread into the toaster, and pulled out a frying pan. Sophie thought she would go nuts waiting. Still Daddy shook his head at them and calmly poured himself a glass of orange juice.
Just when Sophie could hardly stand it another minute — and Lacie had her place mat rolled into a tight scroll — Mama came over to the counter with a package of bacon and cut it open while she talked.
“I’m proud of you for thinking of this, Dream Girl,” she said. “But cutting all your hair of
f isn’t going to make Kitty better — you know that, don’t you?”
“She isn’t doing it to make Kitty well, Mama,” Lacie said.
“She’s — ”
Mama lifted her eyes to Lacie. “Was I talking to you?”
A chill went through Sophie. Mama never used that tone unless one of them told somebody to shut up or called someone a pig-face or something. Lacie looked at Daddy like she expected him to rescue her. He just put his finger to his lips.
Sophie wanted to pull her hair into a mustache, but she didn’t. She had to be clear about this.
“I know it isn’t gonna cure her leukemia,” Sophie said. “But it WILL make her feel better. I don’t even like thinking about her starting middle school with a bald head.”
“Senora LaQuita is making her some adorable hats,” Mama said.
“WHICH some idiot is going to snatch off her head first chance they get,” Lacie said. And then she clapped both hands over her mouth and said between her fingers, “Sorry.”
“It’s true, Mama,” Sophie said. “And Kitty’s parents won’t have to pay for it if Locks of Love makes a wig out of MY hair. And it’ll be real hair and she won’t feel like a freak. She just wants to feel like she’s normal.”
Mama stopped flopping bacon strips into the frying pan and looked up at Sophie again. She looked like she had a heinous headache.
“I think you’ve done enough for a twelve-year-old,” she said. “I’m so proud that you have a heart so big that you want to do everything — but this is an adult decision.”
Sophie swallowed hard. She knew what she had to say, but getting it to come out of her mouth was a whole other thing. Across the kitchen, behind Mama, Daddy was nodding at her.
“Actually, Mama,” she said, “and I’m not being disrespectful — but it’s a God decision. I promised him I would do whatever he asked me to do, no matter how hard it was. So I HAVE to do it.”
“But how do you know God is asking you to do this?”
“It was on Kitty’s list. She said she wanted hair. I’m doing everything else — I have to do this one thing too.”
For the first time, Mama looked around at Daddy. He looked back over his juice glass.