Changing Fate (4 page)

I laugh. “Oh yeah? Why did you lie about your question?”

His eyebrows pinch together and he sits up straighter. “Lie? That was a half truth.”

“You were obviously avoiding the real answer.”

Kyler shrugs, killing the conversation with a sip of his water.

“Maybe you can answer me this,” I say. “I know you take voice lessons but you haven’t been in them very long. Where did you really learn how to sing?”

This time I know I’m not dreaming his faraway look. The plastic bottle crinkles under his grip and he looks at me with sad eyes. “My mom taught me.”

“She must be a good singer then.”

His gaze turns hazy and he whispers, “She was.”

My body’s sinking, falling into a memory that I thought I’d never live again. I’m ten-years-old and my mom’s wandering around, checking each room for Dad even though he’s been gone for eight years. There’s a knock on the door and she answers. Her face falls. It’s him. It has to be. Her hands clench into fists and she presses her lips in
to a thin line. He asks to see me, basically begs Mom to let him in. She holds up a hand to keep him out, tells him I died, and slams the door in his face. Tears stream down her cheeks and a light sob fills the room. There’s another knock but she doesn’t answer. Neither do I. He broke her heart once and I wouldn’t let him do it again. I had to let go. I had to accept his first decision to run away.

He’s dead to me.

But Kyler’s mom really
is
gone. And now he carries part of her with him. I don’t even know what to say. A dull feeling sinks in my chest. One thing’s for certain: I won’t be the one to make him suffer again. He can’t get connected with someone who will smash his broken heart and leave him empty, searching for the right songs to soothe his grief.

Giana squeals. I crane my neck to see her lift her cell phone. “My sister just had her baby girl! I’m an aunt.”

Girls giggle, boys clap, and Kyler and I just sit here.

Yay for her. And yay for everyone who will have babies. That’s something I’ve never dreamed of because the chances of it happening are so slim.

I wrap my thoughts into a tight cocoon and wait for the party to end.   

Monday morning, there’s a tickle in the back of my throat. I grab the bottle of water on my nightstand and guzzle for as long as I can take it—which, of course, is way too much. And now I’m coughing.

I crawl out of bed and strap on my percussion vest. When I reach for my darts, they aren’t anywhere near me.
They’re sitting on the target where I left them yesterday, which means I’m stuck in this chair for twenty minutes with nothing but my mind to keep me busy. And that can be a dangerous thing. I close my eyes and find Kyler’s face staring at me. His gaze is soft and a few curls fall across his temples. Freckles cover the bridge of his nose and sprinkle the rest of his face.

I shake my head like an etch-a-sketch to erase the image. It doesn’t work. Now Kyler’s eyes light up like he’s seeing something he wants. What could it be? My heart flutters beneath the pounding air in the vest and my eyelids fly open. It’s the only way to get him out of my head. I swallow a rising lump in my throat and take a deep breath. Since when did I have each
part of Kyler’s face memorized?

Beside the target on the opposite wall sits a picture of Notre Dame. I focus on the detailed arches, the twenty-eight chiseled statues of different kings, and picture myself at the top. One day I’ll see it all. I’ll conquer my disease, find a cure, and book a plane to France.

But not today. Today I get to go back to school and finish out my senior year one day at a time. The thought of sitting at lunch with Giana actually brightens my mood. And maybe seeing Kyler in real life will keep him out of my head.

* * *

On my way to psychology, Vivian emerges from a side hall and blocks my way.

“How dare you kiss my boyfriend,” she whispers.

I blink once, my mind racing for a quick response. “If he’s your boyfriend, why weren’t you at the party with him?”

She flinches and her jaw
shudders. “You wouldn’t catch me dead at a party with Lily.”

I open my mouth to ask who she’s talking about—

“My sister was nice enough to tell me about your make out session.”

Instead of words coming out, a laugh escapes. “Making out?” I can’t even think of a comeback. The idea is so ridiculous. And the look on Vivian’s face is priceless. No, I choose to do something far worse. “He’s a great kisser. You should know.”

Vivian presses her lips together and her face burns a bright red. Her mouth moves but no words come out. I consider walking away, but I’m more interested to see what she’ll eventually come up with.

It takes almost a minute, but finally she says, “Well, when I make out with him, I’ll be sure not to get him sick.”

The joke is done. My stomach falls and panic presses down on my chest. “He’s sick?”

“He hacked up a lung or two just this morning.”

Normally, that phrase would’ve been a great description. But I’m not normal, and if I get a sickness like his, it might do serious damage to my lungs. My mouth turns dry and a sudden cough tickles the back of my throat. I hold it back and walk away from a satisfied Vivian.

“What?” she calls. “Can’t handle a little cough?”

I need water. A drinking fountain calls my name and I race to it before the cough can escape. I sip the water and wonder why I’m even coughing. Is it because I’m worried about coughing or is it something else?

Unfortunately, only time will tell. Coughs are normal for me. They’re part of cystic fibrosis. This is normal. I just need to repeat it in my head all day. Normal. Normal. Normal. I’m not getting a cold. Maybe Jack doesn’t really have one either. Vivian’s probably lying just to bother me.

I practically run into someone.

“Oh, Kate.”

I step back to get out of Giana’s face.

“I didn’t see you,” she says.

“Sorry. I was a little distracted.”

Giana snags her lip with a tooth. “Yeah, me too.”

That’s when I forget my problem and wonder about hers. Her eyes are puffy and red. Her little nose looks like it’s been rubbed too many times and her shoulders are hunched around a pile of books in her arms.

“Are you okay?”

It takes her a minute to answer. She pulls the books closer to her chest and says, “I think so.”

“You sure?”

The bell rings and she stiffens. “I’ll talk to you later. I don’t want to be late.”

She takes off down the hall before I can even say goodbye. I get to class right before the teacher calls attendance. Kyler turns around and his face matches the one in my memory. It’s perfect. I mean, perfect as in I had all the details right. The teacher is already talking so Kyler just waves and faces forward, giving me a good view of his brown curls
—which I stare at and have memorized by the end of class.

No wonder I don’t know much about psychology
. I spend most of my time in la-la land.

After class, I shove my notebook in my bag and catch Kyler before he’s out of his seat. “What’s up?” he asks.

I suppress a dreamy smile at the sound of his voice and try to focus on reality, not the images of Paris racing through my mind. “Do you know what’s wrong with Giana?”

His eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”

I try to think of the best way to describe her troubled state. “She seemed sad this morning and I just hope she’s okay.”

Kyler checks the clock on the wall. “I’ll see what I can find out and let you know in statistics.”

I nod and he steps past me. His arm brushes mine, sending heat through my body. It calms my worries and keeps me distracted until I take my seat in our next class and wait for Kyler.

“Did you miss me?”

Max’s voice snaps me back into focus. His boyish eyes are like a pleading cat’s, large and glistening. I wonder if it’s something he practices in the mirror. “Um…”

“It’s okay. It’s not like we were best friends or anything.”

I lift my eyebrows and hold back the response at the front of my mind. He doesn’t want to hear my opinion on our friendship, or rather the lack of one. “How’s your—”

“Hey. I heard about your make out session with Jack. What a great way to get back at Vivian.”

Wait. What? My jaw is hanging and all thoughts are paused. “What did you just say?”

“I said—
”

“Oh, never mind.” I suppress the urge to kick something. “I think I got it. How did you hear about that?”

He shrugs. “In the hall?”

Is that a question? Did he hear it in the hall or not? Ugh. What’s wrong with everyone? Maybe it would’ve been better to deny the kiss in front of Vivian’s face. Someone probably overheard and spread the word faster than a plague.

Kyler comes in the room and heads my way. He stops at his seat, staring down at Max. “How’s it going?”

My eyes narrow on his face. “We were just catching up. Nice to see you, Max.” I hold my breath and hope he gets the message. I need him out of here so Ky
ler can tell me what he discovered.

Max looks between us and Kyler offers a friendly smile.

“I’ll catch ya later,” Max says.

The second he’s gone, I turn to Kyler. “So?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I asked a few of my friends, but no one’s seen her.”

“That’s weird.” I try to remember which class she has now but I can’t get them straight.

“Maybe she went home.”

It doesn’t seem like her to skip school. Something has to be wrong.

“What’s up with that kid?” Kyler points a thumb over his shoulder toward Max. “Does he have a crush on you?”

“Who knows.” I rub my forehead. “Remind me never to kiss another guy.”

He grimaces. “You kissed him?”

“No. Haven’t you heard the rumor? I made out with Jack last Friday.”

Kyler laughs and I want to smack the smirk off his face…but it might ruin those freckles so I fold my arms instead. “That was
some
kiss,” he says.

I grimace. “P
uh-lease.” Not that I had anything to compare it to, but I knew it wasn’t spectacular.

“I guess you’ve had better, huh?”

I tap my fingers on the desktop and glance at the teacher, wondering why he hasn’t started class. I
need
him to start class so I don’t have to answer Kyler’s question. Maybe I should lie and tell him they’ve all been better. All zero. The specifics didn’t matter.

Kyler’s eyes focus on my face. “You’ve had others, right?”

And he just
had
to ask. I bite my lip and shake my head.

Kyler’s eyes go wide. “Really? You’re kidding me right?”

“No. Now stop gawking. It’s just that…I’ve never had anyone to kiss.” It’s kind of a hard thing to do since I’ve never been a fan of making friends, let alone making out.

Kyler closes his mouth and looks away. He’s probably hoping the teacher will start class right now so he doesn’t have to respond. An awkward lull grows between us and I wait for him to say something.
Anything
. I don’t want my plea of desperation to be the last thing on his mind.

He cracks his knuckles and puts his backpack on the floor. “I tell you what.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Jack’s a lucky guy.”

“Because he gets to be on the other end of Vivian’s crush?”

Kyler
grins and his freckles bunch together around his eyes. “No. Because he didn’t deserve to be your first kiss.”

My
heart pounds against my chest like my percussion vest. It rattles my emotional wall and shoots heat to my face. I can’t find my next breath, let alone a coherent response. My hands tremble as I reach into my backpack and pull out my statistics folder. Before the teacher can start class, I turn to Kyler and find his eyes on mine.

“Thanks,” I say. He nods and an explosion crumbles the wall between us. How can I push him away when he
treats me like I’m worth more than a broken down pancreas and a couple of worn out lungs? I feel like a statue brought to life, and Kyler has sung his way into my heart. 

Giana really did leave school, which makes me wonder what upset her so much. In order for me to avoid endless make out accusations with Jack, I eat lunch alone in an empty hallway. It’s kind of nice to be away from Vivian’s death radar, Max’s attempts at conversation, and Kyler’s map of freckles.

Okay, so that last part
’s not true. Just the thought of Kyler makes my pulse jump and my hands get clammy. But it isn’t worth more stares and whispered gossip about the new girl kissing someone. It’s like there’s nothing else to talk about. I’m not even the new girl anymore; it’s been a whole week. My head falls back against a metal locker. One week is still new…even for a pair of pants. 

I eat my lunch, make it through the end of the school day, and finally have a moment to call Giana once I get home. But she doesn’t answer.

By the next morning, I still haven’t heard anything. That’s not even the worst of it: the tickle at the back of my throat is now a constant bother. I cough my way through therapy, which makes dart throwing impossible. Then I cough my way through breakfast and Mom gives me a look over her fork full of eggs.

“Have you been using the nebulizer meds, Kate?”

I nod and swallow the food in my mouth. “I think there’s a cold going around school.”

Mom’s eyes harden. “Then you’re staying home.”

It’s not a bad idea. At least it would give a particular rumor time to settle down. But I really want to know what’s up with Giana. And since she’s not answering her phone, the only way to find out is to hope she makes an appearance at school today. “I promise to stay away from the sick kids.”

“You’ll have to wear a mask,” Mom says.

I curse the dang mask and cough into the crook of my elbow. “How about I skip the mask but if I feel worse tomorrow, I’ll stay home.”

“And you’ll stay away from anyone who even
looks
like they’ve got a cold?”

I think of Jack and the wildfire rumor. “Far, far away.”

* * *

I don’t see Giana before school starts.
When I walk into first period, Kyler’s there, standing by my desk like he’s waiting to tell me something.

“What?” I walk quickly toward him. “Have you seen Giana?” I check my thoughts and wonder when I became so worried about someone other than myself. Even the sudden cough isn’t bothering me much.

“Yes,” Kyler says. “I don’t think you need to worry, though. She seems fine today. Maybe a little down, but not as bad as you described her yesterday.”

I sigh and
a pinch of tension leaves my shoulders. “I wonder why she never returned my call.”

“She’s still a little quiet, which isn’t like her. Maybe she’s got something going on and just needs time to work it out.” Kyler touches my arm and I freeze. Maybe if I don’t move, he’ll keep his hand there forever. “Sometimes life happens, but if anyone can see the good side, it’s Giana.”

Of course he’s right. I’ve never seen Giana anything but happy—which is why her distress bothers me so much. When Kyler pulls his hand away, I want to tell him to stop—to leave it there and whisper nice things into my ear. Really, anything out of his mouth would be nice, especially if it’s soft enough to be whispered. Kyler goes to his seat and I sink into my chair. 

Kyler speaks so highly of Giana. Would anyone ever say that about me? Happy and eager to see the bright side? I’ve accepted my disease, I’ve even accepted death. But maybe there’s more to it than that. Mom’s always telling me that accepting something is more than just being resigned to the future. Giana has gone through terrible things. The accident she was in as a girl took away part of her hearing and almost killed her. She doesn’t walk around with a chip on her shoulder like I do.

Maybe if I focus on the good, I’ll be happier with my life. Knowing death could come anytime is one thing. Being okay with it is another.

C
hoosing to be happy in spite of it has never been easy. 

* * *

Right when the lunch bell rings, I hurry to the cafeteria to find Giana. I’m halfway finished with my meal before she comes through the door, shuffling her feet and gazing at everything like she’s stuck in a dream.

Kyler thinks this is better? Just because she’s not crying doesn’t mean she’s happy. She’s not even okay. I wave her over and she si
nks into the seat beside me.

“Where did you go yesterday?” I ask, hoping it sounds casual enough.

A quiet sigh escapes her lips. “I’m sorry. My sister texted me with some bad news.”

“Your sister who just had a baby?”

Giana’s head moves up and down once.

“Is everything okay?” I lean on the edge of my chair and wait for her to tell me what it is.

She shrugs. “I think so. It’s nothing serious yet. But it can turn into something very bad.”

Story. Of. My. Life. I rack my brain to figure out Giana’s vague puzzle. “Is it her or the baby?”

“It’s the baby.”

Ugh.
She’s killing me. Not literally, but I can see this isn’t the time to get any real answers.

“Can I ask you something, Kate?”

I take a sip of water to finish my lunch. “Sure.”

“Why didn’t you answer the question at the party the other night?”

My hand tightens around the bottle. If I knew everyone was going to ask me about it anyway, I would’ve answered it the first time. At least then I wouldn’t have to go through this over and over again. And the strange kid two tables from me wouldn’t be puckering his lips in a mock kiss either.

Do I ever think about death? Definitely. Every night when I go to sleep. And every morning I think about life. They go hand in hand. But how am I going to focus on being happier? What’s the key behind not thinking about death and just focusing on real life every second of the day? That morning when I was so focused on Giana, I forgot about my problems. Maybe that’s the key.

And maybe answering this question for Giana will help her with whatever it is she’s going through. I set my water bottle down and look her in the eye. “I didn’t answer because it’s something I think about all the time. And it scares me.”

Giana sits up straighter. “Really?”

I nod.

She lifts her hands and I can see a surge of emotion choking her. “
Why?”

My pulse beats hard in my neck and I think of the best way to answer without telling too much. “It’s going to happen to everyone eventually.”

Tears pool in Giana’s eyes and she swipes her cheek with her palm. She sniffs back more tears and as much as I don’t want her to cry again, it’s too late. She responds through her sadness. “I suppose some will face it earlier than others.”

I stare at the tabletop and try not to think too hard about what she’s saying. It’s something that has been on my mind since I was old enough to understand the details of my disease.

Suddenly, she cries, “Oh, Ava.”

I touch her shoulder. “Is that the baby’s name?”

She nods and I find a tissue in my pocket to give her. She blows her nose and says, “My sister found out the other day that her baby has something called cystic fibrosis.”

It’s not possible. It’s too rare. This can’t be happening. My world is crashing. My heart is breaking. A thousand
feelings burst within me and I can’t hold them back any longer. I’m scared for the little girl, hate that there’s no cure, and my heart aches when I think about her upcoming treatments and hospital visits—but somewhere in there I know she’ll be okay. She’ll have a special relationship with those closest to her.

The connection with my mom is one that I can never take for granted. I close my
eyes and let her years of love bring me peace. Giana’s niece will be okay. I am okay. One day there will be a cure and until then, the only thing we can do is help each other.

For that one reason, I open my eyes and wrap an arm around Giana. She shakes with a sob and I tell her, “It will be okay.”

“But Mom said her great aunt had it too.”

It m
akes sense since it’s hereditary. Two recessive genes equal one terrible disease.

Giana hiccups. “And her great aunt died when she was two.”

“That was a long time ago. Your niece will live longer.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

So many what-ifs. That’s the dark cloud around CF. No cure, just a bunch of hopeful dreams. But it’s those dreams that keep us going, giving us something to look forward to—like climbing the stairs of the Eiffel Tower. I lick my lips and offer a weak smile. “They probably caught the disease early enough that there isn’t any major damage done to her body yet. Now that they know she has it, they have lots of treatments and medicines that will help her. She could live to be in her late thirties. And if they find a cure, maybe she’ll live longer than you.”

“But is it enough?”

“It has to be,” I say. “You can never give up on her. Not now, not ever.”

After a silent minute, Giana’s shoulders settle and she lifts her tear stained face. “How do you know so much about this disease?”

Deep breaths don’t come. I settle for shallow ones that constrain my lungs. A sudden rhythm dances in my neck. Heat creeps across my skin in jagged paths. I squeeze my hands together until the stretched skin over my knuckles turns white. “Because.” One deep breath, a head full of dizzy thoughts. I close my eyes and say, “I have CF too.”

Giana’s face falls and she finds more tears. It’s too much for me. I can’t breathe, can’t think straight…can’t sit and watch her grieve anymore over this. It’s pulling me down, drowning me with fears I thought I had under control. I pat her arm and walk away.