“What am I going to do about you, Kara?”
His tone was subdued and so sincere that his question caught her by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t stay away from you.”
“You seem to be doing a fine job of it,” she said quietly, but without malice.
“I know it seems that way, but you don’t know how hard it’s been.”
She was skeptical. “We just danced together, but after tonight, how will it be between us? Will you still ignore me in the halls? Will you duck into the nearest open door whenever you see me coming?”
He turned his head, and she saw his jaw clench. She thought he might walk away, but instead he asked, “What’s between you and Vince?”
Published by
Dell Laurel-Leaf
an imprint of
Random House Children’s Books
a division of Random House, Inc.
New York
Copyright © 1992 by Lurlene McDaniel
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address Dell Laurel-Leaf.
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eISBN: 978-0-307-77629-7
RL: 5, age 10 & up
A Bantam Book/May 1992
First Laurel-Leaf edition January 2004
v3.1
This book is dedicated
to the memory of
Karen Leigh Fleming,
October 6, 1967–February 20, 1991,
a victim of cystic fibrosis.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
One
“COME ON, KARA. Stop fidgeting. I’m almost through with your treatments,” Christy Lawrence said as she thumped on Kara Fischer’s back.
Kara stopped squirming. She knew that Christy, her respiratory therapist, was doing her job as quickly as possible, but it didn’t make Kara any happier about the procedure. “Sorry,” Kara apologized. “I’m just anxious to get out of here. I wish I was home already.”
Christy’s cupped hands beat in a constant rhythm against Kara’s back for two minutes, then moved to press against her chest. “Just another ten minutes and you can start packing.”
Kara grimaced and coughed, clearing from her chest the thick phlegm that the therapeutic pounding had dislodged. “You know how I hate being in the hospital,” Kara said. “It’s a good thing Dr. McGee said I was well enough to go home today, or I might just have checked out without his approval. School starts next week.”
“I know you’re longing for school to start. I was like that when I was your age,” Christy said. “Most sixteen-year-olds have to be dragged back to the classroom. That’s why we need to finish up your treatments—so that you’ll be in good shape for the first day. Okay—upsy-daisy.”
Christy paused while Kara coughed. Then Kara bent over a mound of pillows on the floor of her hospital room. She felt the rush of blood to her head. Kara especially hated the treatments that had to be administered while she was upside down. She told herself that she should be used to it by now. She’d been receiving postural drainage therapy—“thumps,” kids like her called them—two to three times a day for her cystic fibrosis since she was three years old. The vibrations from the therapeutic pounding helped to dislodge the thick mucus that clogged her lungs.
“I’m not giving you a hard time,” Kara insisted. “You know I love you. It’s CF I hate.”
“I’d say you got over this lung infection pretty quickly. Only two weeks in the hospital this time. That’s good.”
“Even two hours is too much,” Kara grumbled after inhaling acloseof aerosol antibiotic mist from the mask Christy handed her. “And I lost all the weight I worked so hard to gain this summer, too.”
Christy helped Kara sit upright. “You’re still adorable. Listen, have a milk shake on your way home. My treat!”
The mere mention of food turned Kara’s stomach. If only she had an appetite. Eating was no fun these days—it seemed like a chore. She coughed hard and spit into a small basin. Gross. CF was so gross. Over the years, Kara had devised techniques for controlling her coughing and perpetual throat clearing when around other people, but during her thumps, she tried her best to clear her bronchial passages of the thick, choking mucus that was the curse of CF. “Are we through?” she asked, wiping perspiration from her forehead.
“I just want to put you on the dilator to measure your lung elasticity. While we’re doing this test, I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“A favor from me? Just name it.” Kara sat in a nearby chair while Christy set the dials of the portable machine and placed the end of the tubing in Kara’s mouth.
“Now that I’ve got you where you can’t say no,” Christy teased, “I want to tell you about my brother, Eric. Have I mentioned him to you?”
Kara knew a lot about Christy because throughout the two years Christy had been her therapist, they had become close friends. She knew that her twenty-four-year-old friend, with the soft brown hair and green eyes, had grown up in Texas, had moved to Nashville and received her training there, and now lived alone in an apartment not too far from Kara’s neighborhood.
Whenever Christy couldn’t afford to go home for the holidays, Kara’s parents invited her over. They had all grown dependent on one another, not just because of Kara’s CF, but because they genuinely liked each other. In some ways, Christy had become the sister Kara always wished she’d had.
Kara also knew that Christy longed to be a doctor, but though they never discussed it, Kara suspected that money was a big problem. Christy was smart and talented enough to get into the medical school at Vanderbilt, but becoming a doctor was a long and expensive endeavor. Secretly, Kara was relieved. If Christy ever went back to school, Kara would lose her as a therapist.
Christy adjusted the dial as Kara puffed deeply into the flexible tube. “Actually, I’m coming to the aid of my parents. Eric’s your age. He plans to come live with me this school year and will be going to Central High, same as you. I need you to keep an eye out for him.”
Christy removed the tube from between Kara’s lips and jotted notes on a medical chart. “Forty-five percent,” she said with a frown. “I’m afraid this last infection’s taken its toll.”
Kara hardly heard the comments about her medical condition. “Why’s he living with you?” She was brimming with questions about Christy’s brother.
“Let’s just say he needed a change from Houston.” Christy answered while she busied herself with the equipment.
“Does he have two heads or something?”
Christy smiled. “No … Eric’s had some clashes with Mom and Dad. We decided everybody could use a little vacation
from each other, so he’ll move in with me for the school year. Can you introduce him around so that he won’t feel like a stranger? He’s really a pretty great guy, when he wants to be.”
Kara was surprised by Christy’s evasive tone. “How will I recognize him? Do you have a picture of him?”
Christy dug in her pocket and pulled out a school-size photo. Kara saw the family resemblance instantly. Eric was smiling. He had gorgeous blue eyes and shaggy brown hair that fell across his forehead, and he was definitely good-looking. “I’ll be able to pick him out in a crowd,” she said as nonchalantly as possible. “But he shouldn’t have any trouble fitting right in. He looks perfectly harmless.”
“Anything you can do to make him feel less like a stranger would be a big help. Changing schools in his junior year could be a drag—even though I know he wants to come here.” Christy glanced at her watch. “I’m running behind. Listen, tell your mother I can resume our regular schedule as soon as school starts, if that’s okay. Now, don’t forget that milk shake on your way home, and I’ll see you soon.”
Kara nodded. The regular schedule consisted of her parents’ administering her postural drainage therapy first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Christy came to Kara’s home for her treatments in the late afternoon. Kara hated the routine, but at least she had Christy. Besides, the clearer she kept her lungs, the better chance she had of avoiding infections and staying out of the hospital. “I’m going to pack up my stuff and be all ready when Mom gets here during her lunch hour.”
Christy paused at the doorway. “Vince wants you to stop by to see him before you go home.”
Kara smiled. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye to my buddy Vince.”
Two
CHRISTY WAVED AS she dashed off, and Kara finished packing her small suitcase. She headed down the hall toward Vince’s room. She paused in the doorway and peeked inside. Seventeen-year-old Vince Chapman lay on the bed, his eyes closed. An IV line was attached to the back of his hand, and a plastic oxygen mask stretched across his nose and mouth.
Kara tiptoed to his bedside. She watched his chest rise and fall, hearing the familiar rattle of congestion deep inside his lungs. Vince had CF also, and was a patient of Dr. McGee’s. They had first met when she was twelve and he thirteen. The community of CF teenagers was small, even in a city the size of Nashville Kara considered it fortunate that she and Vince should end up attending the same high school.
Kara had contracted her current lung infection in mid-August. One week later, Vince had been afflicted, too. The major difference was that Kara had responded well to the latest round of antibiotics and bronchodilators—Vince hadn’t.
Kara studied Vince’s face. He’d lost weight and looked gaunt and pale. Bright spots of color on his cheeks told her he was still fighting a fever. She’d almost decided to let him sleep and return to visit later when his eyelids opened. She smiled down at him and was rewarded by his smile in return. “Hi,” she whispered. “How’re you feeling?”
Vince lifted the mask off his face. “Better now that you’re here.” His voice sounded raspy.
“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Sure. I mean there’re so many in my life.” Kara appreciated his sentiment. She, too, had no one special in her life. CF was a real turnoff in the dating scene. “Are you out of here?” Vince asked.
“Dr. McGee sprang me this morning. I just finished my treatment with Christy, and now I’m waiting for my mom to come and get me.”
“I guess you’ll be able to start school on time.”
“Yes.” She felt sorry for him, knowing he wouldn’t. “You’ll be back in no time yourself,” she added.
His dark eyes looked defeated. “It’s getting harder and harder to make a comeback.”
Kara felt a flicker of fear, knowing he was talking about more than returning to school. “You’ll do it. I’ll save you a place in the cafeteria.”
With effort, Vince made a face. “No need to threaten me.”
She laughed and squeezed his hand. “I promised Dr. McGee I’d put on ten pounds by Christmas. It was my bargaining chip for blowing this joint. We can go out for hot fudge sundaes with Christy.” Christy was Vince’s therapist, too.
Vince’s gaze traveled over her face tenderly. “I think you’re beautiful, Kara.”
“Nice try, Chapman, but I know the truth. I’m four foot ten and weigh eighty pounds. I’m skinny and ugly and”—she held out her hands—“and my fingers look funny.” The clubbed appearance of her fingertips was typical of CF victims. She disliked her hands and tried not to draw attention to them.
Vince lifted his arm, pulling the IV line taut and touched the tip of his clubbed finger to hers. “ET phone home,” he said.
“I’ll phone you every day,” she promised, knowing firsthand how long and lonely the days were in the hospital.
“Will you come visit me once school starts?”
“Of course. I’m supposed to get my driver’s license if Mom and Dad don’t chicken out. Honestly, my folks treat me like I’m still a kid.” She made a face.
“When you get your license, take me for a ride, all right?”
“Anywhere special?”
“How about Hawaii?”
“Small problem. There’s an ocean between us and Hawaii.”
A smile flickered on his lips. “Look, if you’re always going to make up an excuse …”
“Sorry. You’re right. When we hit California, we’ll sell the car and buy a boat.”
“Let’s take a ship. How about the Love Boat? We can stand by the rail and watch the moon on the water.”
“Sounds like a dream.”
“And when we get to the islands, we’ll lie on the white sand and eat pineapple and poi and watch the sunset.”
She smoothed a lock of his black hair, wishing such dreams could really come true for them. Maybe that’s why she and Vince talked and joked about their getaway so much. They both knew it was impossible. Kara’s parents would take her on a vacation anywhere, but she didn’t want to go under the conditions her illness dictated. She wished she could see the world without the daily routine of CF. The threat of lung infections and the fear of being away from her medical support system were ever present. “It would be fun,” she said. “Maybe someday, we’ll get our wish.”
“I wish I hadn’t brought you down,” Vince said, eyeing Kara’s expression.
She brightened. “Wait a minute here … How many wishes are you making? Don’t get greedy, you know.”
Before he could answer, he was suddenly racked by a coughing spasm. She grabbed a small basin from the bedside table and held it for him while he gagged. A trail of blood appeared in the bowl. “Should I ring for a nurse?”
He leaned back against the pillow, looking exhausted. “It’s just a small bleed,” he insisted. “The doc says it’ll clear up.”
Kara reached over and picked up Vince’s oxygen mask and slipped it over his mouth. “You need to keep this on.”
He took hold of her hand. “You are beautiful.” His voice sounded muffled by the plastic shell of the mask.
Her heart went out to him. “Feel better, Vince. See you soon.” Kara slipped from the room, suddenly eager to get outside into the fresh air and sunlight. She hated the hospital, the smells, the procedures, the confinement. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go back to school. She wished she could lead a normal life. “Being sick is the pits,” she muttered under her breath. Being sick with cystic fibrosis was the worst.
“Kara: Earth to Kara. I don’t think you’ve heard a word I’ve said about my class schedule.” Elyse Shepherd sounded exasperated.
Kara was twisted in her chair, looking over the crowded cafeteria. Guiltily, she turned toward her friend. “Sorry. I’m on the lookout for Eric Lawrence, Christy’s brother.”
“That’s all you’ve talked about for two days. You act as if it’s some sort of sacred mission or something. Is he gorg
eous or dog chow? You haven’t said either way.”
Kara nibbled at her sandwich without much appetite. “I told you—I’m just helping out like Christy asked me to.”
“Maybe he’ll need a girlfriend. I just happen to be available,” Elyse said, flapping her eyelashes. “Or maybe you’ll be his type—”
“ ’Fraid not. You know how much school I missed last year being sick. This year I aim to stay healthy and have a good time—you know, get to know more people, join some clubs.”
“Kara, don’t overdo it. Anyway, sometimes I think you try too hard to fit in around here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ve watched you knock yourself out for people all the time, and they don’t appreciate you. You should be more concerned about your health.”
Kara knew that Elyse was trying to be helpful. After all, they’d been friends since junior high. But no matter how much Elyse tried, Kara realized, she could never truly understand Kara’s illness. Not just the illness, but the feelings of helplessness and isolation that came along with it. “I’m going to do things this year,” Kara insisted stubbornly.
“What about the spring dance committee last year? You worked and worked. I know you thought Kevin Wright would ask you to the dance, but he didn’t, even though he flirted with you the whole time you were on the committee together,” Elyse said.
Refusing to allow Elyse the satisfaction of knowing how much Kevin’s rejection still meant, Kara retorted, “I worked on the dance because I wanted to. Kevin’s at college now. It doesn’t matter, anyhow.” But deep down, it did matter. Kara remembered how Kevin had appeared so interested in her until he found out about her illness. He’d retreated so fast that there couldn’t have been any other explanation.
A Time to Die Page 1
