Changing Fate (5 page)

After my conversation with Giana, I take my mom’s advice and go home. Not that my cough has grown any worse, but telling Giana about my disease makes
it seem like I’ve shouted it to the whole world. She’s not one to gossip, but I just feel so vulnerable. Like I’ve cut out my heart and revealed my deepest secret: the one thing that defines me, controls my body, and makes me so scared to die. And even more scared to live.

By the time I get home, I’m exhausted. I throw my backpack on the floor and lie on my bed, falling into a deep sleep.

Someone shakes me awake. I don’t know what time it is, but it couldn’t be much later. The smell of sweet flowers and coconut hovers over me. A groggy moan escapes from deep inside my body as I slowly lift my eyelids. Mom stares at me with panic.
Now
I’m awake. I sit up and she falls back, but stays close to me.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

“Me?” She runs a hand through her hair. “The school called to tell me you weren’t in your last classes. Are you sick?”

Despite a sudden cough, I reassure her that I’m fine.

“Why did you come home?” she asks. “And why didn’t you call me? I would’ve excused you.”

I check the clock and see that Mom’s home two hours early from work. “I’m sorry. I needed to rest and fell asleep before I could give you a call.”

“Do you feel any better?”

“A little.”

She exhales and the creases in her forehead disappear. “What about that cold?”

I shrug. “Might not be anything.”

Mom pats my leg. “It’s time for your therapy. I’ll see you downstairs in a little while.”

She gets up and I think about what
her reaction could’ve been when the school called. Of course she would’ve prepared for the worst and hoped for the best. Hopefully she didn’t really think the worst had come. “Mom,” I say. She pauses and waits for me to talk again. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

I sigh. This is me trying to be happier. To appreciate what I have and make life better for those around me. “For not getting mad that I left school. Sorry I scared you.”

Mom comes back and kisses the top of my head. “Don’t ever feel sorry. I’m just glad it wasn’t something serious.”

She leaves the room and I fill my nebulizer with the liquid meds. I hold the tube to my mouth and take a deep breath.

Twenty minutes later, I put my nebulizer away and reach for my percussion vest. I slip it over my shoulders, strap the front together, and turn the machine on.

I barely hear the knock at my door. By the time I realize what’s going on, the door’s already opening. I know it’s not Mom. She wouldn’t knock, especially since she knows I’m in the middle of therapy.

Dark hair comes around the door and Giana’s eyes find me…in my vest, more exposed with my disease than I’ve ever been in front of anyone besides my mom. I grab the darts on my desk and throw one at the target. It misses the center ring, which I actually aimed for this time. What do I say to her? What will she think about all this? It doesn’t matter what she thinks. She’ll have to get used to it sooner or later. I throw another dart that hangs a left and wonder why Mom let her come in. She doesn’t even know I’ve told anyone.
She sure has a way of forcing me to make friends.

I grunt softly and let another dart release from my fingers. This one barely makes it on the target at all. Giana sits on the edge of my bed and crosses her legs.
She’s quiet, watching me, waiting for me to acknowledge that she’s even in my room. I wrap my fingers around the rest of the darts and throw them all at once. Only one sticks. My head falls back in surrender and I turn to face her.

“Well?” I ask.

She smiles and I wonder how she’s suddenly so happy. “How are you?”

I gesture to the vest and shrug. “Normal.”

Her happiness fades. “I’m sorry.”

I think I know what she’s apologizing for, but I
respond just to make conversation. “For what?”

“For not saying anything when you told me about your
CF. For being such a spaz about the whole thing.”

I run my finger along
the ridges of the tube connecting my vest to the compression machine. “It’s okay. Trust me. I’ve seen worse.”

She laughs. “I doubt that.”

That’s because I haven’t told her about my dad. “Well, you’re here. Not only that, but you obviously got over it quickly.”

“Thanks to you.”

I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”

Giana uncrosses her legs and leans forward. “I thought my niece was going to die right away. I was so wrapped up in what might happen that I never stopped to think about the possibil
ities. My sister was no use and Mom’s been MIA helping with the baby since she was born. But now I know she’ll be fine. You’re here and alive.”

I shift in my chair. I’m fine. I’m alive. “It won’t be easy for her all the time,” I say. “And it won’t be easy for your family.”

Her eyebrows scrunch together. “What do you mean?”

“I’m fine
now
. But sometimes I’m not fine. Sometimes I have an infection so bad, I’m in the hospital for days. The disease may affect her pancreas, it may affect her lungs. Or she could be like me and it will affect both.”

Giana rubs the back of her neck
. “So what’s the vest for?”

I
point to the tubes. “The air pounds my chest and keeps the mucus out of my lungs to prevent infection.”

“How often do you do it?”

“At least twice a day.”

Giana closes her mouth
, probably digesting the information. As nervous as I was to tell her about my disease, it gets easier every time I share something else—explain to her how I stay alive.

“How can you help your pancreas?”
she asks.

I reach for my enzymes and lift the pill box so she can see it. “I have to take enzymes with each meal so my body can break down my food and help
my system absorb the nutrients.”

She sits back down and folds her arms. “What else?”

I shrug. “Extra vitamins, fiber, antibiotics. Sometimes I use a nebulizer and sometimes I use an inhaler. Everybody reacts differently to the disease, but the docs know what we need.”

Giana stares at the carpet and bites her lip. After a minute she looks at me. “So…why can’t someone with CF live a long life?”

I rack my brain for the best way to put it. “There are lots of things that can kill us. Since there isn’t a cure, we just have to chase the symptoms away. But even with all the meds and treatments, we still get infections that do a little damage each time. We can only handle so much…eventually our bodies have to give in.”

I thought it would be harder to explain, but this is something I’ve known long enough that it doesn’t seem to bother me. At least, it never has before. She’s quiet, so I try to explain further. “It’s like hitting a spike against a rock every single day. No matter how many times you move the spike, it still does damage. And eventually, the rock will break.”

Giana lifts her head with a determined look in her eyes. She jumps from the bed and snaps her fingers. “Then we’ll just have to find a cure.”

Just like that, she’s decided to conquer the impossible. I can’t help but smile. She’ll never
really
find a cure, but I appreciate her enthusiasm. The alarm on my phone rings and I shut off the percussion vest. Mom comes in and avoids my gaze as she asks Giana to stay for dinner.

“No thanks. I have to get going, but I’ll be back another time.” She waves goodbye and slides past Mom.

I unstrap the vest and take a deep breath in. “Thanks, Mom.”

She turns around. “Wow. What’s happened to you? Here I thought I was going to get a double jab to my chin and you’re thanking me. Did she already know?”

“Her new niece, Ava, is now a CFer.”

Mom rubs her
jaw and frowns. “Dang,” she whispers. She pauses and I know what she’s thinking: that this little girl has a hard life ahead of her. That she won’t know any difference, but that she’ll wish for something better every day. “That’s really too bad.” She looks at me. “Giana’s lucky to have you, you know.”

I shrug. No one’s ever been called lucky to be in my life. If Giana does find a cure—if
anyone
finds a cure—I’ll finally be the lucky one.

On my way to class the next morning, I notice several students walking by with a small sheet of white paper in their hands. So many that I wonder why I don’t have one yet. I stop and try to peek over a girl’s shoulder as she reads the words. Unfortunately, she passes by too quickly. I move on, headed to my first period class.

When I turn the corner,
I slam into someone. I step back, holding my nose. My other hand forms a fist and I look up to see whose face I’m going to punch. Jack. I flex my fingers to resist the sudden fighting urge and glance at his wild black hair and shiny red nose.

“Sorry—
” cough, “about that—” more coughing, “Kate.”

I step back again and move my hand down to cover my mouth.
With the way he’s coughing, the whole school will be sick. Why is he even here? If I didn’t get sick from kissing him, breathing in his air will definitely seal the deal.

He glances at my nose.

“It’s okay,” I say. He leans closer with a questioning look. Shoot. He probably can’t hear me. I back up to the wall and lean against it, putting three feet between us. My hand drops and I take a shallow breath. “I said it’s okay.”

“You sure?”

I point to my face. “No damage.”

He wipes his nose with a tissue. “I’m afraid there’s more I should apologize for.”

“Like?”

He steps forward and I press
my body into the wall. There’s nowhere else to go unless I walk away completely. “I’m sorry about all the rumors. I didn’t know Viv would be that mad. Someone must’ve told her it was more than a kiss.”

A confession
fills my mouth but I clamp my teeth together and smile. “It’s fine.” I want to change the subject, anything besides talking about that kiss. It was my fault. I kissed him and Vivian thinks we made out because of me. “Sorry about your cold.”

“It’s been coming for a while. Actually, it might be a sinus infection now.”

I cringe. Infection? Not a word I like to hear. “I better go. Class is going to start soon.”

Jack tries to say goodbye but it gets lost in a sneeze. Just hearing it makes my throat go dry. I swallow and try to suppress the urge to cough. It doesn’t work. Now I’m coughing. Both of us. Jack eyes me and shakes his head. The rumored make out couple coughing, sharing each other’s germs. There’s no way to kill the stories now. I close my mouth and walk away.

Kyler’s waiting in front of our psychology class, holding a small square of paper. I stop in front of him. “Can I see that?”

“Sure,” he says in a way that shouldn’t make my knees go weak, but it does.

He hands me the paper and the first thing I see are two letters. C and F. Really big. With the words cystic fibrosis underneath. My fingers tighten and the paper crinkles between them. I skim over the rest of the information covering the basics of the disease including the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation website and ways to donate to the cause. “Where did you get this?”

“Giana.”

My mouth drops.

“She says it’s good to be informed of these things.”

I toss the paper back like it might burn me. “Did she say why?”

“Nope. She handed it to me on my way here.”

The tardy bell rings and we find our seats. I can’t help but notice Kyler glance back at me like there was another reason he’d waited to catch me before class. My heart beats a rapid pace, something like
Kyler’s hot…Kyler’s hot…Kyler’s hot
…I can’t breathe. He shouldn’t have that effect on me. He faces forward and I try to focus on my dancing pulse, but another feeling is taking over.

It’s something I can’t place, but I know what it’s from: the flyer. Why would Giana be handing out something like that here? What good will a bunch of teens do for the C
ystic Fibrosis Foundation?  I race back and forth between anger and nervousness. Angry that she’d do that, nervous that people will be able to figure out my secret.

I know people should be aware. I’ve been taught that my whole life. My mom and I
participate in the Great Strides walks each year. We help with fundraising and we spread the news, but not with people I see every day. There are a lot of CFers out there that are open about their disease, but it’s something I’ve struggled with my whole life.

Another cough attack hits during first period. It rattles in my chest and surges out
of my mouth. Over and over. I drink from my water bottle but it doesn’t help for long. Which means I have to drink more and have to visit the bathroom all the time. Just what I need.

Before Kyler can even close his backpack
at the end of class, I’m gone, out the door and down the hall to visit the bathroom before second period. I didn’t even give him a chance to talk to me…maybe tell me something sweet that would calm my inner battle.

Right before I step into statistics, Max stops me outside the door. This time I’m really tempted to use the fist I spared on Jack.

“Did you hear?” Max asks.

I glance in the room and see Kyler already at his desk. My legs itch to move on, but Max places a hand across the doorway. I give a quiet, frustrated sigh. “Hear what?”

“That—”

“If you’re going to say anything about Jack, I just might hurt you.”

His hands fly up in surrender and he presses his lips together for a quick moment. “Nope. Didn’t say a word. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fine.”

His hands drop. “There’s a new kid.”

The response in my head is somewhere along the lines of thanking him for informing me so I can eat lunch on the other side of the…planet. Seriously? “What’s it with so many new kids here? I thought I was weird
transferring schools mid-year.”

“New apartments in the school boundaries.”

With all the anger built up inside me, a little bully bashing might just be what I need. “Okay, spill.”

“Sophomore boy. Dark skin, kind of tall, goes by Mo.”

I lift a brow and wonder if he’s in much danger at all. Maybe he’s good looking and Vivian will just stick to flirting and not bullying. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

He shifts to the side. “Can’t I help?”

I pat his shoulder and step past him, into the room. “I’ll let you know.”

Kyler must’ve heard my voice because his eyes are on us when I finally break away. The teacher is making his way around the room, placing a full sheet of paper on each desk. Before I sit down, he says, “Pop quiz. Take a seat and we’ll start right when the bell rings.”

I sink into my chair and glance at Kyler. He smiles and I let my eyes linger on his lips until I find his freckle. There it is. Small, brown, inviting. Wait. Did I just think that? I look up to see Kyler’s gaze on me, watching me stare at his lips. Heat inches across my cheeks and down my neck. My insides squirm and a rush of flutters bloom in my chest.

The bell rings, announcing the time to stop the frantic thoughts and start the quiz. For some reason, I can’t focus. Well, it’s a perfectly good reason, but the teacher probably wouldn’t be happy about it. In fact, by the end of class, I decide he’s not happy about anything. The lesson today is long and boring and goes over the bell.

I’m packing my bag when someone touches my arm.

“Hey Kate,” Kyler says
. He steps toward the door and I freeze. “See you at lunch.”

A slight nod of my head and he’s gone. He’s racing out of the room, his footsteps matching each
thump pounding my chest.

* * *

Right when lunch starts, I head towards Giana’s locker. Halfway there, I stop at the drinking fountain to kill a coughing fit. Either the air is super dry today or…no, I won’t think about the other reason I would be coughing. It’s got to be the air.

Giana is just shutting her locker when I
arrive. I catch my breath and grab the flyer in her hand. “What’s this all about?” I still haven’t decided whether to be mad or happy about it.

She’s beaming. “Isn’t it great? I learned online that the best way to help is to spread the word.”

“At school?”

There’s hope in her eyes. “Everywhere. And since I’m always here, I
figured it’d be a good place to start.”

I return the flyer and run my fingers through my hair with a sigh.

“Relax, Kate. No one’s going to know you have it just from this.”

I
scan the hallway to make sure no one hears us. “I know. Anyway, we’ve got something else to worry about.”

“Really?”

I shrug. “Worry if you want. Max
informed
me of a new student.”

She taps her chin. “I guess we’d better get to the cafeteria then.”

This is another thing I haven’t decided yet. Do I help or stay away? Giana takes off down the hall and I decide to follow. Which, I guess, means that I’ve decide to help.

One step into the cafeteria and I
know
we’ve missed Vivian’s first move. She has Mo backed into a corner. Her flirt charm is on high: her blue-streaked hair pulled in a side bun, fresh lip gloss applied, leaning forward in her low V-neck shirt. I glance at Giana to find her head tilted, eyes on Mo. Like
really
on him, can’t look away, might have a sudden crush on his chocolate-colored skin, deep eyes…

Giana sighs. Mo’s arms are folded and he glances past Vivian. He seems bored. His gaze lands on us and Giana
snaps out of it.

“Come on.” I pull her forward and she stumbles behind me. A few more steps and a painful cough
pushes up my throat. I stop in place and cover my mouth with the crook of my elbow. Now Giana’s attention is on me. She holds my shoulder with one hand and pats my back. When I straighten up, concern fills her eyes.

“You okay?” she asks.

I swallow and cringe at the pinch of pain in the back of my throat. I must’ve coughed too hard. “I think so.”

“We could go—
”

“Giana. It’s fine.” I already have a mom worrying about me and I worry enough for everyone else. “Let’s go.”

By the time we make it closer to Vivian, Mo’s starting a conversation with her. “What’s your name?” he asks.

She
flutters her lashes and folds her arms under her chest. “Viv.”

Giana and I turn to each other and mouth the shortened version of her name with raised eyebrows. Oh, this boy is definitely getting new-kid torture—just a different kind than any of us got. I’m pretty sure Vivian didn’t go that far trying to get Max on her side. Thank goodness, because I didn’t need a constant replay of those details.

“What should we do?” Giana asks.

I bite my lip and try to decide if I should do something or
do nothing. This is actually entertaining. But I can tell by the worry creasing Giana’s forehead that she doesn’t approve.

“I’ll distract
Viv
,” I say, batting my lashes. “You go save the poor boy.”

Giana
’s eyes light up and her cheeks flush pink. I turn and we split ways. I approach Vivian from the side and get a slight grin from Mo. Vivian glances over her shoulder and freezes. I walk up casually and lean on a nearby table. “Hey,
Viv
.”

Her face turns rigid. “What do you want?”

I shrug a shoulder. “Not much. Just thought I’d stop and say hi.” My next breath gets caught in the painful spot in my throat and tries to come back out. I swallow hard to keep it down.

Vivian
drums her fingers on her folded arms and stares at me. She forces a smile and says, “Hi.”

I turn to Mo. “You must be the new kid.”

He chuckles. “Word travels fast.”

He has
no
idea. Max enters the cafeteria. Shoot. Gotta finish this before he tries to “help.” Giana’s moved closer, but she’s hesitant. Apparently it’s harder for her to do much of anything around Mo. I stand straight. “Hey, Mo. See that girl over there?”

His gaze follows my pointed finger to Giana. He nods.

“She’s part of the unofficial meet and greet committee for new kids. Have you met her?”

“Nope.”

I laugh, a fake, airy giggle. Giana eyes me and I let the laugh linger. “Looks like she’s waiting for you. It was nice to meet you, though.”

Vivian’s glare cuts daggers straight for me. The second Mo steps away, she gets right up in my face. Or, really, I should say down in my face since she’s basically bending over. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, puh-lease.” I roll my eyes. “How would Jack feel if he knew you were flirting with another boy?”

“Jack’s dead to me.”

“That’s a shame.”

She grunts. “What are you talking about?”

I step to the side to get out of her space, or to get her out of mine. “Because Jack and I didn’t really make out.” I turn around and walk away.

Not a minute later, Kyler comes in and waves me over to an empty table. I sit beside him.