Hello God (8 page)

Your silence is deafening. Yes, I know all about the starving kids in different parts of the world, and I feel bad about them too. But you could fix everything, if you wanted to. What is it you do anyway? Create us then leave us to make sense of our crazy world.

I decided not to wear a beanie to school today. It felt like the only way I could relate to what was happening to Steph.

When I entered the playground, Adam and Matt came over to me. They took one look at me and understood immediately.

Adam told me that I had real guts and a beautiful scalp. He said I’d never have to worry about dandruff, but I wasn’t sure that was funny.

Matt said, ‘Good for you.’

Having their support was a great encouragement, so I held my bald head high.

Danielle and Stacey stared at me as if I’d just landed from another planet. I told them it was for Stephanie. Stacey didn’t say a word, she smiled knowingly and nodded at me. Danielle told me I was brave, that she couldn’t do what I had done, not for anyone, but when she next had a haircut she’d tell herself it was for Stephanie. That was a huge thing, coming from Danielle.

We finished our big, beautiful card for Stephanie at school. We each
wrote our own message of love and support. I took it to her this afternoon.

Molly was dressed as a green dragon when I arrived with the boys.

She knows us well now and stopped us before we went to the ward.

Steph wasn’t allowed visitors today. She was tired and sleeping. Molly said we now have to phone before we visit.

I asked Molly to give the card to Stephanie, and then I hiccupped in her face.

Molly held out her green hand and took the large card. She told me to jump up and down for five minutes and the hiccups would go. Then she told me I was doing a fine thing. I didn’t know what she meant, God. It was my beanie, I suppose. Wearing it in summer was a giveaway. I was embarrassed because I felt small and powerless. You wouldn’t know what that feels like.

When I came home the builders were packing their tools away after working on Nan’s granny
flat. It’s going to take a while, and the baby is coming very soon. Mum’s tum is round like a melon. The baby has turned, Mum told me. That means he’s facing downwards now, ready for his journey into the world.

I’m starting to worry about him. Does that mean I love him already? Do you worry about the people you love? I guess that means I love Steph. I worry such a lot about her.

It’s three days since I last saw Steph. The treatment is making her extra tired. When I first heard that it seemed okay. At least once she had more energy she could leave the hospital, then Steph, Matt, Adam and I would climb the rope ladder to Steph’s tree house and watch the world go by.

Now it turns out that I’ve been told lies. I know that because we met Stephanie’s mother at the shops, and she told my mum that Steph isn’t getting better. Later I asked Mum what was happening with Steph. Mum said Stephanie
needed more time for the medication to work. Then she turned away and peeled carrots and wouldn’t look at me.

My parents are lying to me and you are too, God, because not answering my questions and letting me have hope when there isn’t any, that’s a lie. If you are there, then you could have found a way, sent a sign, anything to let me know what was going to happen.

Today Molly wore a long yellow wig and a lacy dress. ‘I’m Cinderella at the ball, in case you’re wondering, Kate,’ she said before she told me Stephanie had been moved.

Even she’s lying. Getting into fancy dress just to make everyone feel better is not telling the truth.

I passed Steph’s parents in the corridor talking to a doctor. The doctor had his hands in his pockets. Steph’s parents looked sadder than sad.

I hiccupped my way into Steph’s room.

She was in there by herself, all hooked up to machines. She looked so small, so pale and yes, so beautiful. I don’t know why this was so. It seemed that her eyes had become so large, as if everything I’d ever wanted to know was held within them.

I sat beside her, sipping water, looking at the balloons and cheery paintings of fairies and rabbits on the walls. It was a lie too. If I could only take Steph back to her tree house, to her quiet place, wouldn’t she get better?

I lied to myself then.

Steph told me that her voice was tired and that I might have to read the end of her story to the children in her ward.

I told her that she could do it, she
would
do it, when she was better. More lies.

She said it was important that they know the ending. That her throat might be sore, and she asked me again. She told me I must read clearly
and not hiccup. That I should drink water before I started reading.

She asked me to give the story to Mrs Kettlesmith for the competition once I’d finished reading it to the children. Would I do that for her?

I said I would.

I told her Matt wanted to see her, and she said she had such cool friends and how lucky she was.

I thought she was lying to herself then, but her face was happy. Totally.

I saw Matt near the reception desk when I left. He was helping Molly put on her glass slippers. She was preparing to read to the children in the wards after the night receptionist arrived.

I told him he could go and see Steph.

As I was walking home, I felt cold, as if a sudden icy wind had blown right through my skin to some place inside of me where I, Kate, truly lived. I felt I had been alive for quite a few years,
but at the same time half-asleep, and somehow, at that very moment, I became fully awake, and understood that I knew so little.

I am so desperate. Please, if there’s anyone up there, do something.

We left Nan at our neighbour’s and then Dad, Mum and I rushed to the women’s hospital. Mum held her baby bump in the front seat and told the baby to hang on, not to be impatient.

My sister was born at a special birthing place where they allow brothers or sisters to watch. I was able to hold my baby sister right from the beginning.

Had I really said I wanted a brother? A disgusting little brother? I must have been nuts.

I’ll teach my baby sister things. I’ll tell her about life. I’ll stick up for her if anyone teases her. After all, I am her big sister, and for the rest of my life, I’ll be her big sister.

I’ve been living through a lot of lies lately, some of which I’ve told myself. Holding my new baby sister felt truthful.

Mum was transferred into a ward. Our baby, OURS, was curled up in bed beside Mum. Dad and I couldn’t stop smiling. Our baby’s eyes were closed tightly shut. What do babies dream about?

When we arrived home much later, still filled with excitement, the phone rang. Dad took the call. He didn’t speak for long.

He put his hands on my shoulders.

He couldn’t get the words out.

I watched him as he tried to find the right words.

Words to make it sound better.

I begged him with my eyes, no lies.

No more lies.

He told me that Stephanie had died.

Was it a sign? I think it was, though I’m still trying to work out what it means.

Steph’s death and my sister’s arrival at exactly the same time made me think about life and death in a different way. It wasn’t right for Steph to die so young. But the way her life had changed so many people had been very right.

When I looked through the telescope tonight, just one day after my baby sister was born, I
thought about Stephanie. She’d said to me when she looked at the stars that night at our place that we were part of it all. That every bit of the smallest bit that makes us who we are is linked. We are all a part of the stars.

I can still hear Steph’s voice as she tells me how to control my hiccups. I miss her in a million ways.

I think she understood more about you than I do, God.

My class decided to plant a garden to remember Stephanie in the grounds of our school. It was announced at school assembly and all the kids wanted to be involved. This is so very right, too.

Everyone at school went to Stephanie’s funeral, and Matt, Adam and I stood together with her parents because that’s just how Steph would have liked it. The feeling of love on that day was so strong that it must have been felt everywhere. Everywhere. So, God, whatever you were doing then, you must have stopped to smile a little at
what was going on in my part of the world. I’m sure it cheered you up no end.

On the way home, in the car, a little
‘hic’
sound came from the back seat.

Mum turned and looked at the baby. Dad said, ‘Oh, no.’

I smiled. She’s just like her big sister.