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  “I’m in this class,” Shay told her, forcing herself not to look at Mindy’s bra. It wasn’t normal to be talking to your friends when they were half-naked. Or maybe it was? In the hospital, people always walked around with the gowns falling off, but that was different. Those bodies were old, or sick, or superskinny. In here, everyone was normal, and they didn’t seem bothered by letting everything show.

  “Since when?” Mindy grabbed an old T-shirt out of her locker and started pulling it on. “I mean, I thought you had a permanent doctor’s note for P.E.”

  “I do, usually,” Shay admitted. “But I feel good this week. Like, really good.”

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed Olivia in one of the other banks of lockers. Shay turned so that her back was to her best friend. “Listen, Mindy, do you have any sweats I can borrow? I don’t have gym clothes.”

  “Oh. Sure.” Mindy peered into her locker—which was pretty damn tiny, Shay saw—and frowned. “All I have is an extra pair of shorts.”

  “That’s okay, I can wear shorts. It’s better than jeans, right?” Shay said.

  Mindy bit her lip. “No, you take my sweats. I’ll wear the shorts. It’s chilly out.”

  “Well, won’t you be cold in shorts?” Shay said. “I’m the one mooching. You shouldn’t have to suffer.”

  “Yeah, but …” Mindy didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. Shay got it. Mindy was worried about her.

  “Thanks, Min.” Shay took the sweats, then looked around, baffled.

  “The locker on the end is always empty,” Mindy told her. “There’s no combination lock, though. You can stick your wallet in my locker.”

  “Thanks.” Shay went over to the empty locker and shoved her books inside, trying to ignore the growing feeling of embarrassment. She didn’t know how to do the first thing in this class. Who knew you had to bring your own lock? Shay reached for the button on her jeans, and stopped. It just felt bizarre to be stripping down in front of everyone. She glanced at Mindy, and Mindy was looking back at her.

  It’s because I’m freakishly thin from being sick, not because it’s weird to change clothes, Shay told herself. She pulled off her jeans and yanked on Mindy’s sweats. Thank God she’d happened to wear Chucks today. They weren’t exactly running shoes, but they were better than a pair of boots or something. She didn’t have a gym shirt, but so what if her regular clothes got sweaty? There was only one more class after P.E.

  It took less than a minute for Olivia to notice her. “Shay, are you serious? Just because I said not to?” The tone of voice was an exact replica of Shay’s mom’s.

  “No, Olivia, because I feel good and I want to do something normal for a change,” Shay snapped, turning to face her friend. “Sorry if that rocks your world.” She handed her wallet to Mindy, and Mindy took it with raised eyebrows.

  Olivia stood there with her hands on her hips just like a disapproving Sunday school teacher. Shay wished—desperately wished—that she could storm off into the gym and leave Olivia behind. But she had no idea where the door from the locker room to the gym was.

  “This way, Shay.” Mindy snapped her combination lock closed and gestured toward the right.

  “Thanks.” Shay went with her, pretending that she didn’t notice Olivia’s eye roll.

  “I think it’s cool. Take charge of your life,” Mindy said as they walked.

  “Yeah, I’m seizing the day,” Shay replied. “Going to P.E. Watch out!”

  Mindy laughed. Olivia, following them, didn’t.

  Inside the gym, a bunch of guys were hanging out, some of them shooting hoops. Was P.E. co-ed? Shay didn’t even know.

  “Ms. McGuire, can I help you?” the gym teacher asked as soon as she spotted them. Shay knew for a fact that they had never met before, but obviously all the teachers must know who she was.

  “Shay’s coming to class today. She feels good!” Mindy chirped, assuming the role of ambassador to the sick girl since Olivia was clearly out of favor.

  The teacher looked skeptical.

  “My stepfather has me do about fifty self-checks a day. I can tell you my current heart rate if you want,” Shay said, resisting the urge to mention Martin’s famous/brilliant doctor credentials. “Or you can just take my word for it that I feel fantastic.”

  “Fine. You just take it easy,” the teacher said. “Everybody outside. I want a mile around the track, and if you’re over twenty minutes, you’re doing it again.”

  The other girls shuffled toward the double doors that led out to the playing fields, so Shay went with them. “That was easy,” she said, surprised. She’d expected a lecture about the school’s legal responsibility to keep her healthy.

  “Ms. Mead couldn’t give a shit,” Mindy told her. “She’s been phoning it in for years.”

  “That’s why we spend half the time jogging,” Lai-wan Huang put in, joining them. “So she can sit on her butt and read the paper.”

  “You don’t need to jog,” Olivia said. “Just walk fast and you can do a mile in twenty minutes.”

  Shay didn’t answer her or even look at her. Mindy and Lai-wan were being totally cool, and Shay noticed a few of the other girls shooting glances her way and smiling. Why couldn’t her own best friend be like that, instead of constantly telling her what not to do?

  The track ran around the football field, which was at the top of a slight hill. It was colder up there, and the early October breeze had a bite to it. Mindy shivered.

  “I wish you’d let me wear the shorts,” Shay told her.

  “It’s fine. I just have to run,” Mindy said. “Believe me, I’ll be warm in no time.” She took off at a jog, kicking up little clods of dirt under her sneakers.

  “It’s four times around. That’s a mile,” Lai-wan said. “I’ll walk with you guys if you want.”

  Shay glanced over at Olivia, who was still right next to her. Did everybody see them as a package deal? “I’m going to run,” Shay said.

  “You have never run in your life,” Olivia pointed out.

  I ran in my dream just the other day, Shay thought. She felt as strong now as she had then. Without waiting for an answer, she took off down the track, the muscles in her legs pumping hard, working just like they were supposed to. Just like they had in her vision.

  I’m doing it! I’m really running! The locket she always wore—the only thing she had from her father—bounced up and down against Shay’s chest. Her long ponytail whipped in the wind, slapping against her cheek, and she laughed out loud. Who needed a vision when there was this? Her own feet pounding on the dirt, her own heart and lungs working perfectly.

  “Shay!” Olivia’s voice was frightened, but it was also far behind her. Shay picked up speed, pushing her legs faster, pumping her arms. She’d never felt so powerful. The thudding of her heart was loud in her ears. …

  Loud everywhere in her body.

  “No,” Shay whispered, her pace slowing. The thudding sensation didn’t stop. Her heart was beating too fast, too hard. She could feel it in every pulse point, pounding in her neck, her wrists, her temples. “No.”

  “Oh my God, what are you thinking?” Olivia came running up to her and grabbed her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Shay? You all right?” Mindy was breathless as she hurried back to them.

  “I’m fine,” Shay lied. She wasn’t fine. She was sick, like she’d always been sick, like she always would be sick. “Just a little tired.”

  “Let’s go back to the gym.” Olivia sounded exasperated.

  Shay went along, letting herself lean on Olivia a little.

  “You could’ve killed yourself,” Olivia said.

  “But I didn’t,” Shay replied. A week ago, I would’ve. But after that transfusion, I ran—ran!—and I’m still here. “I didn’t.”

  “You overdid it,” Shay’s mother said, frowning across the green beans.

  “I’m fine; I’m just tired,” Shay protested. “I didn’t even have to leave school early.” />
  Her mother shook her head. It was clear she thought she understood Shay’s body better than Shay did.

  “What made you think you could run?” Martin asked. “Were you feeling that good, or was it some kind of peer pressure situation?” The questions were in Martin’s detached, thoughtful doctor voice. Not the disappointed, lecturing parental voice Mom was using.

  I guess there are some good things about not having two real parents, Shay thought. She didn’t really consider Martin her parent. Maybe no one did who acquired a stepfather when they were fourteen. Martin had been an awesome doctor. He’d paid attention to everything Shay said, and he’d never rushed out of the room because his beeper went off. And mostly, Shay’s feelings for Martin were the same as when she ’d been his patient. She suspected he still saw her more as a patient than a daughter too. Mom never wanted to hear that, but Shay didn’t see it as a bad thing.

  “Please. The peer pressure was to sit in study hall like always,” Shay said. Her mother shook her head again.

  Martin took a second helping of salad, half of it landing on the tablecloth instead of his plate. His big hands were surprisingly clumsy when he wasn’t performing some kind of medical procedure. “Just the tip of the iceburg,” he joked as he swept the spilled lettuce into his napkin.

  He never seemed to run out of the puns. Shay gave him her usual fake smile, but her mother was still busy studying Shay through narrowed eyes.

  “What do you want me to say, Mom?” she asked. “Nobody told me to go to gym, and nobody told me to run. I just wanted to.”

  “So you felt that strong?” Martin said before her mother could answer. “That you thought you could do something you’ve never done before?”

  “Yeah.” Shay met his eyes, and a smile spread across her face. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Was it just a sudden surge, sort of a rally? Or have you been feeling this way since the new treatment on Wednesday?” Martin asked, shooting a quick glance at her mother, who still hadn’t taken her eyes off Shay.

  “I’ve felt great ever since the treatment,” Shay said. “What did you do to that blood anyway?”

  “You have not felt great ever since. You’re exhausted now,” her mother pointed out. Again with the I-know-how-you-feel-you-don’t.

  “Emma, you’re overstating things. She’s sitting at the table, she’s eating and drinking,” Martin said.

  “And she’s got bags under her eyes.”

  “I always have bags,” Shay said. “But I am tired, Martin. Maybe I should have another transfusion? The new kind.”

  “You just had one!” her mom protested.

  “Usually you make it a few more days.” Martin chewed on his lip, thinking. “It may mean this new version is faster-acting. You felt much better, but the effect was short-lived.”

  “Because she overdid it.” Shay’s mom sent her a guilt-inducing look. “We can’t tell how long the effect would’ve lasted if Shay had just behaved herself.”

  “Behaved?” Shay repeated incredulously. “I’m sorry, am I a bad girl because I decided to go for a jog?”

  “You know what I mean,” her mother said. She glanced at Martin. “She doesn’t need another transfusion yet. She just needs to rest a lot this weekend to make up for the running.”

  “I’m sitting right here,” Shay said. Regular seventeen-year-olds got to talk to their doctors by themselves. Why did Mom insist on translating for Shay?

  “You don’t seem superexhausted to me. You didn’t faint. You’ve got more energy than you did before the last transfusion,” Martin said thoughtfully, actually talking to Shay. “I’m not sure it’s time for another one yet. Do you really feel like you need it?”

  Need? No, Shay thought. But she wanted it. They were right that she didn’t feel as awful as she sometimes did. But she felt sick, and weak, and normal—her own lame version of normal. She wanted to feel strong again, like she had for the past two days. She wanted to feel normal by everyone else’s standards.

  “It’s just that I don’t want to be too tired to go to Kaz’s party tomorrow night,” she said.

  Her mother laughed—a harsh, sharp sound like a bark. “You are not going to a party.”

  “It’s his eighteenth birthday. It’s a big deal,” Shay said.

  “I don’t care, you’re too tired to go.” Her mother took a sip of wine. “You can’t risk your health for some silly party.”

  “Did you not hear me? He’s turning eighteen. It’s not some silly party,” Shay snapped.

  Her mother sighed. “You can send him a gift.”

  “Oh my God.” Shay pushed her chair back from the table. “It’s not a second-grade birthday party, Mom. I don’t care about getting him a present. I care about having a good time at a place where every single person from school will also be having a good time.”

  “Sweetheart, believe me, passing out in the middle of a party is not a good time.”

  “That’s why I want another transfusion,” Shay cried.

  “Emma, you know how important socializing is when you’re a teenager …” Martin began, sounding as if he were giving an anthropology lecture.

  “I know how important staying alive is for Shay!” her mother cut him off. Her eyes went wide, and her hand flew to her mouth. She never said things like that, never implied that Shay’s disease was fatal. Shay realized that she should be freaked out by her mom’s slip-up, but instead she felt relieved. It was refreshing to hear the truth for a change.

  “Mom, if I can’t even run around the track at school and I can’t go to a party with my friends, I’m not really alive now,” she said. “Why can’t I just have another transfusion and live the way I want?”

  “No,” her mother said, her gaze flitting between Martin and Shay. “It’s just too soon.”

  Shay’s hands tightened around her napkin. Her mother really needed to realize that Shay was old enough to understand her own body and make her own decisions about what she could and couldn’t do.

  Because she was going to make her own decisions, whether Mom liked it or not.

  Martin shook her awake at eight in the morning. “Your mom went for bagels,” he said.

  Shay rubbed her eyes and tried to process that. Bagels were fine and all, but it wasn’t really their thing. Saturdays were for scrambled eggs with cheese. “Why?”

  “She felt like something different.” Martin took Shay’s pulse as he spoke. “Weaker than last night.”

  “It always is.” Shay sat up, shivering in the cool autumn air. “Can’t we turn the heat on?”

  Martin looked surprised. “It hasn’t been cold enough yet. But sure, I’ll put it on. I, um, I thought you might want to do another transfusion first.”

  Shay stared at him. “Mom said no.”

  “She’s worried because the effects of the last one wore off so quickly.” Martin shrugged. “I’m more interested in how much better you felt during that time.”

  “Mothering versus doctoring,” Shay said. Smothering was more like it.

  He smiled. “The eternal battle.”

  “Mr. Bonetto says you can’t tell anything from an experiment run one time,” Shay said. “You have to do it over and over before you get any meaningful results.”

  “Exactly. So this time, we’ll try this new type of transfusion and we’ll take more notes.” Martin looked her straight in the eye. “And you won’t skew the outcome by exhibiting any behavior beyond the mundane.”

  “No running,” Shay translated his science talk. “Got it.”

  “I can only tell how well it’s working if you keep your activities at the same basic level they’re always at,” Martin said. “Promise?”

  “I promise no running,” Shay told him.

  Martin went out into the hallway to get the IV stand, and Shay leaned back against her pillows. Mostly naked Calvin Klein man stared down at her from the ceiling, but he just seemed bland. She didn’t need him to take her mind off the transfusion. She wanted her mind on it now. Sh
e couldn’t wait for the strength.

  “Please let it work again,” she whispered, to Underwear God or actual God or anyone else who might be listening. “I don’t care if it only lasts a day, please just let it work.”

  “Ready?” Martin came back in, excitement in his eyes. He was as hopeful as Shay was; she could see it. Well, if he found a way to treat her, it would make all his research worthwhile. It would mean he was right to have left his position at the Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. It would mean he really had saved her life.

  “This is a big deal, huh?” she asked him. “It’s the first thing that’s ever made me feel good.”

  “It’s only a small step. I want you off transfusions entirely and still feeling good,” he said, but he shot her a smile. “I’d say if it keeps working, it will mean we’re finally going in the right direction.”

  He examined her for a moment, looking for an unbruised spot on her rail-thin arm. There weren’t many left—every transfusion left a bruise, and she’d been having them more and more often. The ugly splotches took forever to heal. She knew soon they’d have to move to other places on her body, but for now Martin seemed satisfied. He swabbed her skin with alcohol, then slid the needle into her arm.

  This time Shay watched it.

  The blood, thick and red, slid down the tube … too slowly. Shay willed it to move faster, to get into her system.

  And finally, there it was.

  Shay’s heart seemed to jump, as if she’d just been shocked with a defibrillator … and then warmth spread through her as her heart sent the new blood speeding through every artery, to every inch of her body.

  I don’t need the heat on after all, Shay thought as her eyelids fluttered closed. The sun was so hot, beating on her face, warming every inch of skin as she stretched out on the bluff above the ocean. So hot. She could see it even through her eyelids, a bright orange color that made her think of the persimmon tree near the orphanage.

  What orphanage? Shay wondered, but it was an idle thought. She could picture the tree, right near the path that led up into the hills. She didn’t know the name of the hills, but it hardly mattered, not when the sun was so warm.