Hold Me Like a Breath (38 page)

Char swallowed. “I don't know if I can do that.”

“I'm not asking, I'm telling you. You don't get to choose to keep me on the sidelines. I'm not saying I want to go rushing into dangerous situations, but trust me enough to make my own decisions.”

He nodded slowly.

“And please don't treat me like I'm breakable. You're the only one who ever touches me, and I miss it.”

“I miss it too.”

I held my hands out, eager for a clasp and a kiss. They didn't come.

“But you're in the clinic, and you're here because of something you did to save my life. I feel like I'm responsible for every spot of purple on your body.”

“No. You don't get to take responsibility or guilt for my decisions.”

He lowered his chin and studied the floor—for the first time I could see shades of the painfully shy boy he'd been. I knelt up on the bed, taking his face in both my hands and turning it to look into mine. “It was worth it. You are worth it. And I want to be touched, does that count for anything?”

“Of course—” He quickly, lightly brushed the tips of his fingers across the back of mine before folding his hands in his lap. “But I bet I've left bruises before.”

“Nothing major. At least not after the whole meeting-by-full-body-collision.”

Char winced. “Can you … teach me how to touch you without bruising? How much pressure does it take?”

No one had ever asked me that before. Even with my parents it had seemed easier to avoid physical affection than take a risk. But it wasn't all that risky if we established limits, if I knew my counts—currently over a hundred thousand thanks to miraculous, marvelous infusions. I shifted to the side of my bed and patted the space beside me. “Come here.”

He hesitated for just a moment before looking me in the eyes and nodding once.

“Lie back,” I said. Char's shoulders took up most of the width of the bed, but sitting up, I fit like a puzzle piece next to his waist. My legs folded up beside him, tracing the line of his outer thigh. “Give me your arm.”

He smiled and held it out. I lowered it to rest on my lap and then placed both my hands on top. I loved the way his skin looked
against mine. It should have made me feel pale and sickly, but it didn't. He always seemed to radiate vitality, and it felt like I could absorb it, steal it from his pores and the cords of his muscles.

“Don't move,” I teased, watching the corners of his mouth tip upward.

“Are you going to tickle me?”

“Are you ticklish?” I didn't know this. It seemed like something I should know already. But we'd get there.

I didn't tickle. Instead I circled one arm around his waist, sneaking my hand beneath the hem of his T-shirt to stroke his skin with my thumb. I used my other hand to trace the pattern of muscle and veins down the inside of his arm—watching my touch raise goose bumps along his warm skin.

He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Light touch is almost always okay. None of this would bruise me.” I bent and kissed the skin at his wrist, where his pulse raced beneath my thumb. Char gasped.

“As for adding pressure—slow is always better.” I inched my fingers up his stomach to his shoulders, leaning over him so I was supporting myself with my arms and my hair hung down around both our faces. “As long as my counts are under control, slow, steady pressure shouldn't leave a bruise.”

I lowered myself softly onto his chest, nuzzling the line of his jaw with my nose, my mouth. I could feel him trembling. Gripping the blankets with both fists.

“Think you got it?” I asked. “And you can always ask if you're not sure.”

He breathed out the word “okay,” and I felt his chin drop
slightly until it rested against the top of my head and his fingers relaxed on the blanket and inched closer to my sides.

But they stayed on the sheets.

“Do you need me to give you a countdown?” I teased.

“Maybe,” he said, brushing his lips against my hair.

“How much time do you need to prepare? Should I start at ten, or three? Or will a ‘ready, set, go' work?”

“Ten,” he answered, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

Ten more seconds was too long to delay a hug I'd been waiting my whole life to receive, but I pressed my lips to the skin below his ear and whispered, “Ten Mississippi, nine Mississippi—”

His laughter rumbled from his chest, shaking us both.

“Eight Mississippi, seven Mississippi, six Mississippi—”

And then his palms were tentatively skirting over the fabric of my shirt, sliding down my back, settling on my waist with the perfect amount of pressure to make me feel safe and here.

“I couldn't wait,” he said. “Not even one more Mississippi.”

Once upon a time I was a seventeen-year-old. In love for the first time. In
life
for the first time. And quite determined to have some “happily” in my ever after.

While Penny and her family are pulled from my imagination, several aspects of this story are real.

Idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura, also known as Immune Thrombocytopenia, is an actual platelet disorder. To learn more about ITP, visit:
www.pdsa.org
or
www.itpsupport.org.uk
.

Organ and tissue transplant regulation are currently controlled by the FDA (FOTA is an agency that exists only in my imagination and on these pages). The level of oversight and testing varies greatly between tissue and organs, and many of the problems presented in this novel have a basis in reality: There have been cases of diseased tissue infecting a recipient; there is a black market for organs; stolen cadavers have been used in transplants; there are instances where patients have been rejected from transplant lists because they have disabilities.

And, unfortunately, there are far more people who need transplants than there are organs available; far too many people who die before reaching the top of the transplant list.

If you're interested in learning more about organ and tissue transplants, I recommend NPR's fascinating series on the tissue transplant industry:
www.npr.org/series/156935894/human-tissue-donation
; the documentary
Tales From the Organ Trade
; and the Organ Procurement and Transplantation Network website:
http://optn.transplant.hrsa.gov
.

And, of course, please consider signing up to be an organ donor—
www.OrganDonor.gov
.

I loved fairy tales when I was a little girl—I still do. But when I was young “The Princess and the Pea” had to be removed from my bedtime story rotation. Instead of easing me into slumber, this story woke up so many questions.

Seven-year-old me would've told you that Hans Christian Andersen started at the wrong place and focused on all the unimportant things. The story is called “The
Princess
and the Pea,” yet it's hardly about the princess at all. We never learn why she was alone on a cold and stormy night. No one asks what happened to her family or if she's okay. We're never told
why
she bruises so easily, or
if
she wants to marry the prince. And then there was the fact that always bothered me most: Why does her ability to bruise make her desirable?

I was a stumble-bumble-trip child—constantly in the ER for stitches or casts. I've had plenty of bruises in my accident-prone
life, and they're never attractive. Bruises
hurt
. That the ability to bruise was the basis for the princess's identity—the reason she and the prince could marry—was disturbing and confusing to childhood me.

A couple of decades later, I finally sat down to write the princess's story—because while the fairy tale may have her in the title, the story isn't
hers. Hold Me Like a Breath
is my way of reclaiming this fairy tale, giving the princess a voice, an identity that's based on more than her skin's ability to turn purple.

This book is my answer to my childhood questions, but I hope it raises some questions for you.

So, of course the first people who need thanking are my parents. Thank you for reading to me. Thank you for answering my endless questions. Thank you for teaching me that curiosity is a gift and sometimes the only way to find an answer is to create my own. I appreciate you even more now that my Schmidt-lets are in their own question phase and I live in their barrage of “whys.” Pip Squeak and Wild Imp, I hope you never stop asking—except at bedtime, please go to sleep. And, St. Matt, who brings the logic and reality to our little family, I love you so very much.

This book couldn't have been written without Joe Monti, the first person who said, “This is the story you're writing next. Write it now!” and Emily Hainsworth and Courtney Summers who held my hand, brainstormed, read the drafts, and delivered endless pep talks. E. C. Myers, Katie Walker, and Jessica Spotswood also shared their wise feedback, and I'm so grateful to them and to my online and local book community,
including Jonathan Maberry, Nancy Keim Comley, Tiff Emerick, Heather Hebert, Jen Zelesko, Annie Gaughen, Victoria Schwab, Scott Tracey, Susan Adrian, Linda Grimes, Gail Yates, Elisa Ludwig, Kate Walton, Eve Mont, Lauren Stroehecker, Kelly Jensen, and so many more.

To Barry, Tricia, and the whole Goldblatt family, so much of this job is spent by myself in front of my computer, thank you for making sure I never feel alone and for always having my back.

To all the talented people at Bloomsbury, I feel so lucky to continue to work with your magical team. Emily Easton, thank you for sharing my excitement for this project and catching my obsession with the organ trade. Laura Whitaker, I guess we're past the point where I can send “Oh, just one more change” e-mails. Thank you for being so patient and such a great champion of me and this story. Many hugs and much gratitude to Sarah Shumway, Lizzy Mason, Erica Barmash, Emily Ritter, Cristina Gilbert, Amanda Bartlett, Courtney Griffin, Linette Kim, Beth Eller, Jenna Pocius, Patricia McHugh, Jill Amack, and everyone else who's worked to make this book stronger and shinier.

I have so much gratitude for the doctors and patients who answered my questions about idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura and shared their stories. If there are any mistakes in the way I depict Penny's experiences with ITP, they are entirely my fault and I apologize. I especially want to recognize Dr. Pam Boardman, MPH; Charity Hasty; Jeff Writtenhouse; Christina Pena; Erica Klein; Crystal Lee; and Meredith Jane.

Finally, my heart is full of gratitude for all the teachers,
librarians, booksellers, bloggers, and readers who have spent their time in these pages or recommended my books to friends, family, strangers in bookstores or libraries, or on the Interwebs. At the risk of exposing my cheesy side (too late?), you are all a part of my happily ever after and I couldn't do this without you.

Send Me a Sign
Bright Before Sunrise

Copyright © 2015 by Tiffany Schmidt

All rights reserved.
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. For information address Bloomsbury USA, 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018.

First published in the United States of America in May 2015
by Bloomsbury Children's Books
This electronic edition published in May 2015
www.bloomsbury.com

Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Bloomsbury Children's Books, 1385 Broadway, New York, New York 10018

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Schmidt, Tiffany.
Hold me like a breath / by Tiffany Schmidt.
pages     cm
Summary: Penny Landlow, seventeen, the overprotected daughter of a powerful crime family, has rarely left the family estate due to a blood disorder, but when tragedy strikes and she is left alone in New York City, she must prove she is not as fragile as everyone believes.
[1. Organized crime—Fiction. 2. Self-reliance—Fiction. 3. Sick—Fiction. 4. Family life—New York (State)—New York—Fiction. 5. Transplantation of organs, tissues, etc.—Fiction. 6. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.S3563Hol 2015     [Fic]—dc23     2014019262

eISBN: 978-0-80273-810-3

To find out more about our authors and books visit
www.bloomsbury.com
. Here you will find extracts, author interviews, details of forthcoming events and the option to sign up for our
newsletters
.