Game Changer

by Margaret Peterson Haddix

  How many times would they even bother coming?

  “Not that team,” Max said, wrinkling his nose. “I mean . . . you and me. And . . . Evangeline?”

  KT gaped at him. She blinked hard.

  “You remember?” she whispered.

  Chαpter Twenty-eight

  “There was another world,” Max said cautiously.

  “You were some great mathlete and I couldn’t get anybody to play softball,” KT agreed, just as cautiously.

  “Then it wasn’t all just a dream?” Max asked.

  KT realized what a risk he’d taken even mentioning it. If she hadn’t remembered, she might have laughed at him, might have screamed at him, might have cursed him out of the room. Even now he was sitting on the edge of his chair, as if he was prepared to bolt if she got upset.

  “Evangeline said that other world wasn’t real,” KT said. “After you . . . left . . . I talked to her again.”

  “So, were all three of us just dreaming the same dream?” Max asked, squinting in confusion. “Is that even possible?”

  “Evangeline would know,” KT said confidently. “Got your phone with you? We’ll call her.”

  She meant, I’ll call her. This at least was something she could take control of.

  But Max didn’t dig into his pocket for his phone. He looked down at the floor.

  “KT, I already tried to call her,” Max said. “I looked up her home number. Her dad answered. He was just there stopping by temporarily. I was lucky anyone answered.”

  KT wondered why Max was telling her all those unnecessary details. Did he want her to congratulate him for showing some initiative on his own? For actually being brave enough to dial a phone and talk to some girl’s dad?

  Max was still talking.

  “Because . . . it turns out . . . Evangeline is a patient in this hospital too,” Max said. “She got hurt in an explosion.”

  “Oh—I knew that!” KT crowed. “She told me in the other world. She said that was how she got there. It was because of a chemistry experiment in her garage, right? Doesn’t that prove, well, something, that I know that? And I hadn’t heard about it for real? How else would—”

  “KT, Evangeline hasn’t been conscious since the explosion,” Max said. “Since last week.”

  It felt like Max had grabbed her by the shoulders—even the injured one—and shoved her back down against the bed. Why was KT yammering on about proof, when Evangeline was hurt so badly? KT remembered what Evangeline had said she’d been afraid of: All I ever was, was smart. What if it turns out that I’m not smart anymore, back in the real world?

  What if Evangeline never got up the courage to come back? What would happen to her then?

  How much longer could she survive in the fake world?

  KT swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  “What are you doing?” Max asked.

  “We’re going to go talk to Evangeline. In person,” KT said.

  “Weren’t you listening?” Max asked. “She’s unconscious. She can’t tell us anything.”

  KT looked at her brother.

  “But we can tell her what we know,” KT said. “Don’t you think sometimes smart kids need to be told things too?”

  Chαpter Twenty-nine

  Going to talk to Evangeline turned out to be a little more complicated than KT had expected. There was the matter of the monitor, still hooked up to track KT’s every heartbeat. There was the matter of the nurses who ran into the room when KT tried to detach the monitor herself. And, of course, Mom and Dad, running back, still sobbing, and completely unable to understand why KT was insisting on visiting some injured girl they’d never heard her mention before.

  “Sweetheart, we are not even allowed to tell you what room that other girl is in,” the head nurse said, shaking her beaded braids. “Patient privacy laws, you know? So you just lie still, take it easy.”

  “Evangeline is in room 3215,” Max said. “Right down the hall and in the next corridor.”

  All the adults turned and stared at him.

  “What?” he said. “I’ve just been paying attention. Can I help it if you have patients’ names written in big letters on your charts over at the nurse’s station?”

  His eyes met KT’s, and she knew he was thinking, I’m paying attention now. Since I got back from weirdo world.

  “I promise, I won’t disturb Evangeline,” KT said. “And I won’t do anything to . . . exert myself. But I might get all upset and stressed out if I can’t talk to Evangeline. And couldn’t that be dangerous?”

  This was world-class manipulation. But the nurses looked at Mom and Dad, and Mom and Dad gave defeated shrugs.

  Geez, how sick am I? KT wondered.

  She pushed that thought aside and concentrated on shifting into a wheelchair—“just as a precaution,” the nurse assured her.

  Max pushed her down the hallway, leaving the collection of adults behind.

  When they got to Evangeline’s room, KT realized she hadn’t thought about preparing for the next obstacle. As soon as Max pushed KT across the threshold, Evangeline’s parents stood up and moved protectively toward the door: two rumpled, anguished adults who looked like they’d slept in uncomfortable hospital chairs the past three or four nights.

  Or maybe they hadn’t slept at all for the past three or four nights. Maybe they’d just spent three or four days and nights crying in uncomfortable hospital chairs beside their motionless daughter’s bed.

  That just means they’re defenseless, KT told herself. Even in a wheelchair, even with a heart condition and a torn rotator cuff, I could brush them aside.

  “Hi!” KT said, pulling a tone of artificial cheer into her voice. “We’re Evangeline’s friends from school! We came as soon as we could!”

  Evangeline’s parents moved in unison, blocking the path toward Evangeline’s bed.

  “We don’t know you,” her father said. “We’ve never seen you before. And—Evangeline told us she didn’t have any friends at school.”

  Not completely defenseless, KT thought. And . . . not stupid.

  She dropped the fake cheer.

  “You’re right,” she said quietly. “Sort of. At the time of the . . . explosion . . . I don’t think Evangeline had any friends at school. I’ll admit, I wasn’t her friend then. But . . . things have changed.”

  KT saw Evangeline’s parents looking at the wheelchair, at the unwieldy brace on KT’s arm. Their gaze traveled to Max, and KT glanced back at him as well. For the first time she noticed that he had a bruise on his forehead, and a bandage partially hidden in his hair.

  KT realized that Max had shoved his hair back on purpose. He wanted his injuries to show.

  Evangeline’s father took a step back.

  “She’s our only child,” he said. “She’s all we have.”

  KT realized he was negotiating. Or—giving them a warning. He might as well have said, You do anything to hurt our daughter, nothing would stop us from retaliating. We have nothing left to lose.

  “The doctors say there is no reason for this,” Evangeline’s mother, gesturing sadly toward Evangeline’s unmoving figure. “They say none of her injuries should keep her from waking. They can’t understand.”

  And I can’t understand why you always dressed Evangeline in those stupid little-girl dresses and second-grade-style pigtails, KT thought. Did you ever think you’re the reason she was so unpopular? Because you made her look weird? Not because she was so smart?

  But what if dressing her daughter that way had been Evangeline’s mother’s “thing,” the way softball was always KT’s thing?

  Not anymore, KT thought. Then she pushed the thought aside, because she couldn’t handle that right now. Not when she needed to focus on Evangeline.

  Evangeline is just going to have to deal with her mother’s lack of fashion sense herself, KT thought. After Max and I get her to come back from the fake alternate world.

  “Could we maybe just talk to Evangeline?” Max asked
hesitantly. “Just by ourselves?”

  Evangeline’s parents looked at each other. Maybe they really did feel like they had nothing left to lose, because they seemed to be considering it.

  “The doctor did say it would be good for her to hear other voices,” Evangeline’s mother said hesitantly. “To know that we’re not the only ones who want her to . . . to . . .”

  Her eyes filled with tears. What was it with parents who couldn’t finish their sentences?

  “You can talk to her, but we’re not leaving the room,” Evangeline’s dad said firmly. “We’ll be right here.”

  They moved to the side, letting KT and Max past. But KT could tell Evangeline’s parents were going to be straining to hear every single word they said.

  “Max, could you fix the strap on this brace?” KT said loudly. “I can’t get it one-handed.”

  “What? You mean—?” Max leaned down to peer at her arm, his face twisted into a confused squint. Which made sense, because KT wasn’t even sure there were straps on the brace.

  As soon as he got close, KT whispered, “I’ll talk to Evangeline. You distract her parents.”

  Max frowned, but after he straightened up, he stepped back toward Evangeline’s parents rather than toward the bed.

  “My sister and I were really sorry to hear what happened to Evangeline,” he said. He sounded so awkward and uncomfortable that KT was sure the grown-ups would see through his act.

  No, wait. He’s a twelve-year-old boy visiting a girl in her hospital room. Of course he’s going to sound awkward and uncomfortable, she told herself. You go, Max! Keep it up!

  She tuned out the murmured replies from Evangeline’s parents and rolled herself closer to the bed. She could see the edge of a plaster cast on Evangeline’s leg, sticking out the side of the sheets. But other than that, KT couldn’t tell how badly Evangeline had been injured. The girl’s dark hair fanned across the pillow, and KT realized this was the first time she’d ever seen Evangeline without her too-tight, too-high twin pigtails.

  She didn’t even look like Evangeline anymore. She looked like a total stranger.

  “Um,” KT whispered, leaning close so no one but Evangeline could hear her. “So how’s that mathletics club-team tryout working out for you in the other world?”

  The girl on the pillow didn’t move.

  “I don’t know how the timing of these things works, but if you want to finish the tryouts, I wouldn’t blame you,” KT said, still whispering. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt something like that. But you know, once that’s over, well, you wouldn’t want to get trapped in the other world, would you? I mean, I think I stayed a little too long, and things got kind of scary there at the end. You know we’re waiting for you here, don’t you? Max and me, we’ll be here for you no matter what, all right?”

  Evangeline still didn’t move.

  “You know it’s not real, that other world,” KT went on. “You’re the one who told me about that. Don’t you want your life to matter? Don’t you want to come out and do great things here in the real world?”

  Max cleared his throat behind her. KT whirled around and glared, because didn’t he understand that he was supposed to keep distracting Evangeline’s parents?

  “The doctor came in,” Max whispered. “Something about test results. I think they’re going to be busy for a while.”

  KT glanced back over her shoulder. Evangeline’s parents and a woman in a white coat were bent over a counter near the entrance to the room.

  “That’s lucky,” KT whispered back. “But—I don’t think Evangeline hears me.”

  “Let me try,” Max said. He leaned in close and said, “Evangeline? I looked something up. There’s this math competition for sixth-, seventh-, and eighth-graders that other schools are part of, not that far away from Brecksville. Maybe you and me and Ben and some other kids, maybe we could talk our school into letting us do that too. It wouldn’t be quite like mathletics in the fake world, but it could still be fun. Maybe.”

  KT stared at her brother.

  “You looked that up for Evangeline?” she asked, her eyebrows cocked in amazement. All right, Max! she thought. You’re showing initiative all over the place now, aren’t you?

  “Well . . . ,” Max said, grimacing.

  KT realized Max hadn’t looked that up for Evangeline. He’d looked it up for himself.

  “Still, good for you,” KT said, nodding approvingly. “See, Evangeline, see what’s possible in the real world?”

  Maybe it was only KT’s imagination, but Evangeline’s face just looked paler than ever. More like a dead person’s.

  KT reminded herself that Evangeline was terrified that the explosion in the garage had injured her brain somehow—and had maybe even made it so that she wouldn’t be smart anymore in the real world. Math competitions weren’t the way to entice her back. They would just be a cruel reminder of what she’d lost.

  But had Evangeline actually injured her brain?

  KT realized she didn’t know.

  Did it matter? If Evangeline had lost some of her brilliance, wouldn’t it still be worth it for her to come back?

  KT glanced back at the grown-ups. Still talking. Still distracted. There was still time.

  “Evangeline,” KT said, and she choked a little on the last syllable. “There was bad news waiting for me when I got back to the real world. I’ve got some sort of heart condition I never knew about before—I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to play softball again. Not for real. Not competitively. Not the way I want to.” Her throat ached, and for a minute KT thought she was going to break down sobbing. But she swallowed hard and kept going.

  “But there was good news too,” she went on. “One part of the good news was, the thing I was most afraid of—that I’d really hurt Max when I hit him with that softball—that wasn’t true. I got all terrified about that for nothing.”

  KT heard Max make a startled noise beside her, but she didn’t turn to look at him again. She couldn’t. Instead she grabbed Evangeline’s hand and went on.

  “And the other good news was—and I’m still kind of figuring this out—the good news was, I could stand the bad news,” KT said. “Being told I couldn’t play softball—last week I would have thought that that would be unbearable, the worst news possible. But it wasn’t. I would have thought it would kill me. But it didn’t. I’m still here. I’m still me. And—I’m okay. I don’t know how, but I’m going to beat this thing. And you’re going to beat your problems, too!”

  She jerked Evangeline’s hand up and down, pounding it against the sheets.

  “You and me, we are alike!” she told Evangeline. “We’re winners! We’re going to come out on top!”

  Max leaned forward and pulled KT’s arm back, pulling her away from Evangeline.

  “Quit it, KT,” he complained. “You sound like a coach.”

  “Why do you have to make that sound like a bad thing?” KT asked.

  “Because,” Max said. He gulped a little. “Because sometimes people lose.”

  There was a hollowness in his voice that KT had never heard before. She didn’t know if he’d been hiding it before, or if she just hadn’t been paying attention.

  “But if they really try—,” KT began.

  “Do you know how hard I tried in T-ball?” Max asked. “Dad would say, ‘Just hit the ball, Max-Max!’ And I’d swing, and it’d be like there was a hole that suddenly appeared in the bat, or the ball jumped out of the way . . . I swear, I was trying my absolute hardest, but I couldn’t hit that ball!”

  KT kind of remembered this: Max had been spectacularly bad at T-ball.

  “Maybe you were just a little too young,” KT said apologetically. “Maybe—”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Max said, shrugging. “Never mind. I don’t care anymore.”

  “So why’d you bring it up?” KT challenged.

  She could almost see Max forcing himself not to back away.

  “Because,” he said in an even vo
ice, “you’re used to winning, so you don’t even think about how, every time there’s a game, both sides get that ‘rah, rah, team’ speech from their coaches. Both sides hear, ‘You’re the best!’ ‘You’ve got to win!’ ‘You’re the greatest!’ But half of the people playing that game are going to walk away losers. Half!”

  Max was right. KT was used to winning. So she hadn’t ever thought of sports that way.

  “In something like a race, most of the people are going to lose,” Max went on. “Say there’s ten people running—ninety percent of them will lose!”

  KT felt a new kind of fear grip her heart. Her mind made an appalling leap. What if he wasn’t really talking about races? What if he was working up to some sort of terrifying comparison?

  “What do you mean?” she asked. Now it was her turn to grab Max’s arm. “Did you hear some sort of stat from Mom and Dad, about how many people recover from this heart thing I’ve got? Listen, even if it’s only ten percent of people who get to go back to playing sports, I’m going to be in that ten percent!”

  Max jerked his arm away.

  “I don’t know anything more than you do about your heart thing,” Max said. There was fear in his voice too. “I was talking about Evangeline.”

  “Since when does Evangeline have anything to do with sports?” KT demanded.

  “If you’d let me finish . . . ,” Max said, rolling his eyes. “I was trying to make a point. People act like other things at school are sports too. Like, for some kids to ‘win’ at being popular, other kids have to lose. If someone wants to be cool, they get that way by making fun of kids who aren’t cool. So . . . even nerds like me used to make fun of Evangeline. We put her down to build ourselves up.”

  “You think you can convince Evangeline to come back by telling her you used to make fun of her?” KT asked incredulously.

  “No. To get her to understand how much things can change,” Max said quietly. “How much I want to change things. Did you ever think that maybe it wasn’t just a mistake, Evangeline blowing up her garage? Did you ever think that things might have been so bad for her that . . . that she did it on purpose?”