Authors: Michelle Merrill
Changing Fate
CHANGING FATE
By Michelle Merrill
Copyright © 2014 by Michelle Merrill
All rights reserved.
Cover photo by Janie and Christina Christensen, designed by Tiffany Lowe.
This book is for Regan, Sara, Christina, Ali, Brandon, and anyone else
affected by cystic fibrosis.
May they find a cure so
on so we can all breathe easy.
CONTENTS
W
e are all human beings, but if we don’t learn to
be
, we can never
become
.
I reach into my backpack and wrap my fingers around my pill box, but I can’t seem to pull it out. Maybe I’m a little embarrassed about taking meds with every meal…or maybe it’s the girl with the blue-streaked hair who’s staring at me across the cafeteria. She steps toward me. I grip the container and flip the lid open.
The girl moves closer and I reach my other hand in, dumping the pills into my palm. It’s like a race, like she’s trying to get to me before I put them in my mouth. Each step she takes makes my heart pound stronger against my ribs. But why would she care about my pills?
Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she’s checking out a hot guy behind me and I’m just paranoid because I’m the new girl. I’ll never understand why Mom thought it would be better to move during my senior year rather than wait six more months. It’s true we’re closer to the hospital now, but we were managing. Okay, so the last hospital run was a bit tense. Mom was so flustered she ran a red light, cut off too many people on the highway, and almost got into a serious accident with a minivan.
If she thought
that
was tense, the look the blue-haired girl is giving me would make her stomach burst with ulcers.
My insides scream for food and it feels like something is clawing its way through the empty space. I throw the pills into my mouth and wash them down. The blue-haired girl is closer now and I purse my lips, hoping she’ll leave.
She doesn’t. Instead, she comes right up to my table and pulls out the blue chair next to me. The feet screech across the floor.
“What you got there?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
Her dark eyes focus on my hand. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”
I shrug. “What’s it to you?”
Her mouth lifts on one side, revealing a protruding tooth. “You’re the new girl, right?”
“First day.”
“Well, then you don’t know that all meds are supposed to be checked through the office first.”
They were. Nurse Molly knows all about me. But I choose to keep that a secret. “I’m eighteen. What does it matter?”
She lets out a short laugh and takes in my small frame, everything from my skinny arms down to my little feet. “They don’t care how old you are. It’s the rules.”
My eyes scrunch into a glare. “And what are you? The meds monitor?”
She crouches in the chair and leans closer. “Tell ya what. I won’t say a word if you promise to share them with me.”
I flinch, definitely not expecting that offer. Not that enzymes would do much for her. With all my trips to the hospital, I’m not sure they’re doing much for me either. But why would she want them? Black market? Addiction? I shake my head. “Sorry. Not for trade. Go tattle if you want.”
A look of disappointment crosses her face, but soon enough the protruding tooth is back. “Well, nice to meet you…”
I stare at her, thinking of other words besides
nice
to describe this conversation. I could tell her my name’s Kate, but instead I say, “We didn’t meet and I don’t care to know your name.”
She
snickers. “You might want it when you ask me to return your backpack.”
Someone yanks my backpack and the strap is suddenly out of reach. I drop my water bottle and jump up in time to see a boy swing a right down the hallway. I only hesitate a moment before taking off after him. A high-pitched laugh echoes behind me and hundreds of eyes follow me out the door. In the hall, I turn right and weave my way through the towering crowd. Down at the other end, the blond-haired kid is stopped at the next hallway with my purple backpack in his grasp. He looks back, probably watching for me.
Instead of charging my way through, I match my steps with the guy in front of me and use him to move closer. Suddenly, he stops and I lean away to avoid smashing into his back.
“Since when do you have a purple backpack, Charlie?” the guy asks.
The boy spins around and hides my backpack behind him. “What do you want, Kyler?”
“Who is it this time?”
Charlie shakes his head and I can’t wait any longer. If I don’t get my backpack soon, I’ll miss lunch altogether. When I step to the side, Charlie’s face falls and he backs up, ready to take off again. This time I’m right on his tail. The sudden exercise will come with consequences but I don’t have time to mess around. I never thought I’d have to use karate in school, especially this soon. Mom barely lets me practice at home anymore. But I have no choice. In less than a minute I trip him, pin him to the ground, and tear my backpack from his hands.
“What the—” He tries to push me off.
I give him a flat smile and jump back to my feet. Passing a surprised Kyler, I hurry to devour the lunch my stomach wanted ten minutes ago. Forget that: my body has been aching for food all morning despite Mom’s hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs.
Before I reach the cafeteria, a cough
rushes up my throat. I try to suppress it and pick up my pace to get to my water bottle. A sputtering feeling tugs at my chest and I can’t hold it back any longer. Air rips its way out my throat and I enter the cafeteria with my face buried in the crook of my arm.
When I glance at my table, my arm drops and I freeze. The girl is gone, my water bottle is empty, and my lunch is nowhere in sight. The clawing in my stomach collides with my anger and I clench my hands until my nails pinch my palms. I swallow my next cough and it backfires through my nose. Gross. Seriously. I grab a tissue from my back pocket and wipe my face.
Someone taps my shoulder and the tissue becomes nothing but a squished ball in my fist as I turn around. A girl with a blanket of dark hair looks me in the eye. She may be an inch taller than me, but she couldn’t be more than five-foot-one.
“Here,” she says, out of breath,
offering a sack lunch.
I fold my arms. “What’s that?” After the chase I just finished, I’m not about to trust
anyone
.
“It’s food. Vivian has a way of welcoming people to
our high school.”
“And you are?”
The girl smiles. “I’m Giana. Vivian has the blue hair. She thinks she owns this school and obviously thinks stealing food is the way to show it.”
“Is she poor or something?”
Giana shakes her head. “Trust me, she’s got money. I know it and I’ve only been here a few weeks.”
“Wait. You’re new? What grade are you in?”
She laughs. “I’m a junior, but most people ask me if I sneaked away from Kindergarten.”
I nod, only because I
’ve been in her place. “It doesn’t get any better when you’re a senior.”
“Dang.” She snaps her fingers. “I was really hoping they’d at least call me a first grader.”
“Thanks.” I reach forward and take the food.
“No problem. Kyler told me what happened.”
I tilt my head and try to put a face to the familiar name.
“He says Vivian picked the wrong person to steal from.”
He must’ve been the guy who seemed so surprised when I tackled Charlie. That’s all I remember about him, though. Class is about to start and I need food. “I have to eat,” I tell her. “Thanks for the help…and the food.”
“Anytime.”
Giana walks away and I sit at the nearest table. In no time, the food is out of the bag and on its way to my stomach. It satisfies my hunger but leaves me wondering why Giana was so nice. She doesn’t even know me.
I’d already decided before moving here that I wasn’t going to make friends. Because the moment I make friends, they usually find out about my cystic fibrosis. And once they find out their friend has a fatal disease, they might decide to run. It’s happened before. It could definitely happen again. Besides, there’s no way around it. No cure. One day, it will win the constant fight.
When that day comes, I don’t want to leave people behind. That’s why Giana and I will never become friends.
Getting ready for school the second day is almost worse than getting ready for the first. This time I’ll recognize people. They might remember my name and they might want to talk—which means they’ll expect me to respond.
Before school starts, I slide my black percussion vest over my clothes and click the three straps across my stomach. It’s similar to a life
jacket with a tube connected to each side. The tubes are attached to a compressor that pumps air through the vest when I turn the switch. It pounds my lungs to keep the mucus from gathering, therefore preventing infections…most of the time.
During my night routine, I do homework to pass the time in therapy. Mornings are all about distraction. See, I dream a lot about different things that could go wrong with my disease and I need something to chase those thoughts away. The beautiful architecture and designs of famous buildings in France fill my mind. I close my eyes and daydream that I’m there
: running my hand along the walls of The Palace of Versailles, or standing at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower, staring up at the intricate placement of support beams and cross bars.
What I’d give to visit France before I die. If only I could walk through the streets and drown out my fears with the soft language.
I move my hand across the desk until my fingers curl around a dart. Thinking of France calms me. Throwing darts releases anger. Anger at life. Anger at the disease that’s killing me. Anger because there’s no cure. Even though I can’t imagine my life without CF, I wonder what it’d be like to eat a meal without medicine or look forward to my fortieth birthday party. Forty is supposed to be “over the hill.” My hill has been reached and I’m already barreling down the other side.
My eyes fly open to the target across the room. I pull back my hand and force all the anger toward my fist and into the dart. It
soars across the room and lands right where I aimed it, on the outer ring. It’s more fun to hit the spot I want than to aim at the center of the target every time.
When therapy’s over, my
head and lungs are clear. I dash down the stairs for breakfast and try to fake a front jab to my mom’s jaw. She catches my fist and twists it behind my back. If there’s one thing to remember, it’s not to attack your instructor. Mom earned her black belt five times, which is why they had her teaching the class by the time I came along. She always tells me that if Dad ever comes back, I’m free to take him down.
I try to imagine it
but Mom snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Hurry and eat. You’re going to be late.”
She hands me my morning pills: vitamins, antibiotics, and enzymes. Sometimes there’s more, sometimes less. It depends on what the doc thinks I need. Swallowing pills used to be hard, but now it’s as easy as breathing.
I eat a quick breakfast, twist my blonde hair into a braid, and hurry out the door.
By the time I get to school, I’m so distracted by trying
not
to make friends that the sound of my name startles me.
“Your name’s Kate, right?”
I turn in my chair and find a somewhat familiar curly-haired guy looking at me. His name escapes me until he sticks out his hand and says, “I’m Kyler.” He moves his hand closer. “I think I ran into you yesterday.”
I nod, remembering those freckles surrounding a pair of wide eyes. “You look familiar, but I don’t think it’s
you
I ran into.”
Kyler laughs and his melodic voice washes over me, bringing back daydreams of French people talking to each other in smooth, connected tones. I hold my breath and wait for him to talk again.
“You’re right,” he says. “I think I can say that’s a good thing. I’m sure Charlie will never come near you again.”
I manage a small laugh and say, “Good.” It kills me to have to respond in my boring, clipped voice. His words make my
insides sway, like I’ve just stepped into an ancient chateau.
Kyler’s hand drops and pats his leg instead. It wasn’t like I was trying to be rude, I just wasn’t trying to be nice either. Niceness leads to hanging out and connecting with each other. As much as his voice affects me, I know I need to stay
far
away. My gaze falls to his mouth and I notice a freckle on the upper part of his lip, just off-center.
The teacher walks in and I close my eyes. If anyone catches me staring at a guy’s lips, it isn’t going to be the teacher…or the guy. I promise myself right then that I
’ll never look at that freckle. It sends my mind into dangerous territory that has to do with kisses and feelings and—I can’t think about that. It means I might make an attachment. Sure, he’s hot. But I can’t let it happen.
The teacher clears his throat and I face forward, keeping my
attention on the board and my head in reality. Not that school will help much if I’m going to die, but Mom keeps reminding me that the average life expectancy for someone with CF is now somewhere around thirty-eight. And no, I’m not allowed to live with her until then.
I try not to think of leaving Mom, whether because I move out or something worse. She’s all I’ve ever had, really. And even though it might be promising to make more friends, I
still don’t think I’ll be able to create any kind of connection that could wither if they find out about my disease.
The hands
on the clock tick and the teacher’s voice drags on. With five minutes left, I pack my bag and have everything ready to leave right when the bell rings. Kyler won’t have time to think about talking to me, let alone walking with me down the hall. My plan runs smoothly until I’m in my chair for statistics and Kyler walks in. At first I think he’s stalking me, but then he sits down across the room and waves.
I lift my hand in a limp greeting and rest my head on my desk. How did I miss his face in all my classes yesterday? Did he just show up at lunch?
“Are you sick?” a male voice asks.
I
consider avoiding the person, but if I’m going to pretend to punch him, I need a clear image of his face. I turn to look as a boy sits next to me, his hair is disheveled and his fingers are tight around a crinkled schedule.
“Hi,” I say, hoping to satisfy his need to disturb my obvious misery.
“I’m new.”
Really? How many new kids could there be? No wonder Vivian has a full time job making life miserable for the newbies. I think about warning him, but decide it might be more fun to watch, and even more enjoyable to ruin Vivian’s plans.
I even consider thanking him. He just gave me something to look forward to.
His soft skin and boyish eyes make me wonder about his age. “Are you a senior?”
He blushes. “No.”
“Right. Some kind of math prodigy then.”
His pink cheeks turn a deep red. “I’m a freshman.”
A freshman about to get a lesson in new kid bullying. The teacher calls for attention and I point forward. “Looks like class is starting.”
He shoves his schedule into his backpack and pulls out a tattered notebook.
Lunchtime can’t come soon enough.
* * *
When I enter the cafeteria, Vivian is already at a table in the corner. Muted sunlight lights up
half the room, leaving her in a shadow. The smell of gravy drifts up my nose and triggers a deep growl in my stomach. I hurry to find an empty table with a good view of Vivian and her posse. A few other kids surround her, mostly younger boys. Her eyes flick to my face and she leans back with a smug look, folding her arms across her stomach. I match her flaming glare with a cool gaze. The
tssss
of a sizzle echoes through my head.
The new boy walks in and I regret not learning his name. I
t would’ve been nice to know the name of the kid I might save. I still haven’t decided what to do about that yet. Vivian gets out of her chair and nods to the boys at her table. They stand up together and approach the new kid.
Definitely not what I expected. Maybe it’s a different form of initiation than
the one they put me through. A minute into their conversation, the new boy’s gaze switches to me for a brief moment. He shakes his head and turns back. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad. And why is he even looking at me? Are they talking about me?
Ooh, if I had a dart in my hand right now, I could use Vivian’s blue streaks for target practice. My stomach growls and I quickly swallow
my pills before Vivian attempts another “share your drugs” trick. I still don’t know what she meant by that. Did she really want my pills or did she just want my food?
The group breaks up as I take my first bite. The boys fan out around the cafeteria and it’s hard to keep my eye on them
all. Vivian sits down at her table with the new boy and leads a lengthy conversation that includes batting lashes. When her arms start waving, her chest shakes—which is probably her intention. Whatever she’s trying to make him do, her words aren’t convincing enough.
I
turn away to check on Vivian’s minions. One, two, three, four…I can’t find the fifth. Instead, Giana walks in and waves at me. I lift my head in acknowledgement and continue my search for the last boy. Charlie. Where in the world did he go?
I
take another bite and find his reflection in the window. He’s approaching me from behind, probably to steal my backpack again. In three seconds he’ll be at my right shoulder and I’ll show him what an elbow feels like.
Just then, Vivian stands up and huffs out a frustrated sigh. She throws her hands in the air and stalks away from the new boy. He glances at me with a smile that fades in a split second. Charlie grabs my backpack and I curse Vivian for the distraction. This time, I wait an extra minute to plan my revenge. The first time was—okay
, I admit it—kind of funny in a little kid way. But I’m not a kid anymore, and there’s definitely no humor the second time around. What are they trying to do, anyway? My lunch is half gone and my pills won’t do them any good.
I stand up in time to see Giana chase Charlie through the side door
with the new kid on her heels. I wonder how everyone got so caught up in this stupid charade. I grab my water bottle and plan my next move. If they’ve gone out the side door, they could be halfway around the building. I leave through the front entrance and cut across the commons. Then I work my way back and listen for footsteps.
Sure enough, sneakers slap the linoleum floor and I stick my head around the corner to see Charlie charging right toward me. It almost makes me sad that I don’t even need my skills to stop him.
All I have to do is stick my foot out. He stumbles over my toe and flies through the air. Mid-flight, I grab my backpack from his hands. It jars his fall and he crashes on the ground beside me.
He rolls to his back but I trap him with my foot
on his chest and point my water bottle at his face. “What are you doing? Does it make you feel good to act like a little punk?” His face pales and his mouth moves but no words come out. I shake my head. “If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.” I open my water bottle and splash the last bit over his head.
Giana comes down the hall with new boy next to her. She’s smiling like she knew I could handle it all along. The new boy snaps his gaping mouth closed and applauds. Right then, I feel bad for Charlie. He’s on the floor sopping wet, not because he wants to be, but because he’s friends with Vivian. I toss the water bottle in a nearby trash can and reach down to help him up.
“If I were you,” I tell him, “I’d find some new friends.”
He wipes
away the water dripping down his face and looks at me. “How about you?”
For some reason I glance at Giana. She lifts an eyebrow and waits for my answer. This is it. The time when everyone in the school finds out that I want to be a loner. Better sooner than later. “No. Sorry. You wouldn’t want to be my friend. You think a little water is bad? I can think of something worse. See ya.”
As I walk away, the weight of loneliness settles on my shoulders. Great. As if I don’t have enough to bother me. First I have to focus on avoiding people and now I have to feel selfish for doing it. If only they knew it was for them, not me.
I don’t care much about dying. At least…I don’t think I do. Sometimes I almost wish it were already here. But it’s not. And even though I might be prepared for it, no one else will be. If I die, they’ll be the ones without me, trying to overcome the loss. I can’t do it to them. I watched my mom go through life like a broken marionette for too long after Dad left. No one deserves that, and I won’t let anyone
suffer because of me.
I continue down the hall and never look back to see Charlie’s reaction.