Once Upon a Wish

by Rachelle Sparks

  8

  The drums pounded through her, the electric guitar screeched in her head, and the raw acidity of the music pumped through Serena as Seanza guided her through the crowd, hands tightly held.

  “If we get separated, you know where to meet,” Seanza yelled, her breath hot in Serena’s ear. “Stay out of the mosh pit!”

  Yeah, right, Serena thought.

  She had become addicted to the rush, the chaotic freedom found in thrashing through a frenzied mob of screaming, flailing fans when she was just twelve years old during her first mosh pit at a Good Charlotte concert in Tucson.

  With ripped jeans and hair dyed the color of fire, Serena’s hesitancy to jump into the crowd quickly succumbed to its raw, animal-like energy—the solitary movement of hundreds as one, pushing and shoving.

  Embraced by the chaos, Serena and her sister moved with the swaying pile of bodies, arms pounding the drum’s beat into the air. It was a scene, a culture, Serena had become part of and craved, and her need to fulfill that addiction resurfaced at the Avenged Sevenfold concert, where her neck was still tender and healing. Surviving another mosh pit would prove to everyone that nothing could get her down.

  “I don’t want to get in trouble if you have to go back to the hospital!” Seanza managed to shout before the crowd swept her away.

  I’ll be fine, Serena thought before plunging in.

  Her internal stitches remained intact, her craving satisfied. Serena returned home with a sense of accomplishment, proof to herself that she had healed, beat cancer, and that life would continue as normal.

  Still settling into their new Sierra Vista home, Serena enrolled at Cochise Community College and changed her major from graphic design to game design and creation, enjoying classes in art, coding, and artificial intelligence. Inspired by one of the first music-related video games, Michael Jackson’s Moonwalker for the Sega Genesis, Serena wanted to join the industry and bring her creative ideas into the gaming world.

  Toward the end of her first semester, she came home from school one day and checked the voicemail on her cell phone.

  “Hi Serena, this is Linda from the Make-A-Wish Foundation in Phoenix.”

  Serena’s heart folded, paused, and then pounded violently. Is this really happening? Back in Lincoln, before she graduated from high school, the Make-A-Wish Foundation of Nebraska had contacted Serena, told her to make a wish, and gave her the paperwork to fill out. Those piles of papers, that joyful wish, in Serena’s mind, offered something undeserved.

  As a child, she was the first to split her lunch with a classmate who forgot theirs. She was the one to offer half of her ice cream to a friend who ran out of money on a school field trip. She was the person who couldn’t pass a Salvation Army bell ringer at Christmastime without throwing in some spare change. She was a giver, not a taker.

  She had traveled the country with her family, been to Disneyland Resort and SeaWorld, and swam with dolphins in Hawaii. How could she accept a wish that could otherwise be granted to a four-year-old who had been through much more than she had?

  She pictured the wide eyes of children watching whales jump at SeaWorld, experiencing the magic of “It’s a Small World” at Disneyland, holding the fin of a dolphin as it slices through ocean water—all common wishes and all experiences she’d already had.

  The stack of paperwork remained blank, untouched, for more than a month before Serena convinced herself that if the foundation was contacting her, somebody must think she deserved it. She finally filled in the line that required her to list her wish: “I wish to meet Darren Hayes.”

  She was informed that celebrity wishes could take years to grant and in some cases, depending on the celebrity, might never come true.

  If Serena ever got to meet Darren, he would be worth the wait.

  She turned in the paperwork right before graduation and moved back to Arizona shortly after. She knew that the Phoenix chapter had taken over, so when she heard, “Go check your email” on her voicemail, she ran to her dad’s office, quickly got online, and opened her inbox.

  Hi Serena,

  I just heard from our London office that Darren Hayes would like to meet with you July 19th. You and your family will spend five nights and six days in London. I’ll be in touch about flights soon. Let me know if you have any questions.

  Warmest wishes,

  Linda

  Would like to meet with you …

  Darren Hayes would like to meet with you …

  Serena screamed into the quiet of the house, her voice jumping from room to room, echoing down the halls, filling the silence. She got up, thought about dancing, thought about spinning, running, something …

  I need to call someone.

  “Mom!” she shouted into the phone. “We’re going to London!”

  9

  A few months after hearing that her wish was coming true, the countdown clock in Serena’s room—the one that had ticked each second, each minute, and each day away—finally stopped.

  It was time.

  She looked out the window on the morning of July 16, Seanza on her heels, both their hands pulling back the curtains, and in the driveway sat a long, white limousine. The closest Serena had ever been to a limousine was on the open highway, an arm’s length and a lifetime away. Her eyes had always been in search of the lucky ones inside the sleek, black, and mysterious vehicle.

  Now she was the lucky one.

  She slid across the car’s long, black seat, hand trailing behind, gliding over shiny leather, and scooted until her whole family was beside her.

  The royal treatment had begun—and it continued across the ocean. On a private tour, they witnessed the world’s greatest and most famous collection of jewels in the Tower of London’s Jewel House. Fascinated by the colors, the glimmer, and the history, Serena went from case to case, display to display, with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Time stood still when she stood before the Queen’s Scepter with the Cross and its 530-carat diamond.

  They saw Buckingham Palace, Madame Tussauds, and the Tower of London from the top of a double-decker bus—Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, Tower Bridge, and The Crystal Palace from the London Eye, Europe’s tallest Ferris wheel.

  From 440 feet in the air, with breathtaking, living history below and the most exquisite scenery stretching as far as she could see, Serena’s mind was a million miles away. I am meeting Darren Hayes in a few hours, she thought.

  An afternoon of tea and scones was scheduled with Darren later that day at The Ritz London, and the official Make-A-Wish itinerary had informed Serena and her family that men were to wear jackets and ties and women were to dress “smart.”

  A jeans and T-shirt girl, Serena had dragged her mom and sister shopping a few weeks before, in search of something “smart.” She had never been to an event with a dress code. Even during a tour of the White House on a fifth-grade field trip, the only men dressed in jackets were the U.S. Secret Service.

  Serena had settled on a pair of dress pants and a T-shirt covered by a vest. Sedra wore nice pants, Seanza, a dress, and Kevin sported a jacket over a pink shirt, the same shade as the cotton candy-colored limousine that picked them up in front of their hotel before heading to The Ritz to meet Darren.

  Walking through the hotel’s grand entrance was like stepping into Serena’s wildest imagination, her most elaborate dream. She pictured the hands of Sir Winston Churchill and Queen Elizabeth II touching the royally oriented furniture surrounding her and eating scones and drinking tea from fine china in the room she was about to enter.

  She and her family glided along glossy marble floors, beneath gold-lined ceilings held by pillars reaching for the sky. They respected the hotel’s quiet demeanor, its innate sophistication, with hushed voices as they made their way to the lobby.

  Serena paced then sat, knees bouncing and mind spinning, as Darren and his assistant, Tracey, walked into the hotel and toward her with a smile. He’s just another human, she reminded herself, containing squea
ls of excitement that wanted to burst through her smile.

  “Well, you must be Serena,” he said as she stood up. He embraced her like he would an old friend and kissed her on the cheek.

  Darren just hugged me … and kissed me.

  Before being escorted to the Tea Room, a man with a deeply distinguished English accent said, “Excuse me, Sir,” snapping Serena from the dream world she was about to enter. The man, dressed like a penguin, stood beside Darren, hands politely behind his back. He looked down the length of his nose at Darren’s boots, then slowly to his jean-covered legs, past his vest, and finally to his questioning eyes.

  “No jacket, no tie…” the butler said, somehow both politely and rudely.

  “We are with the Make-A-Wish Foundation,” said Gillian, the Wish coordinator who was there to oversee the wish. She showed him her Make-A-Wish badge and spoke with the hotel manager.

  “Excuse me,” the butler said, head down, apologetic.

  He disappeared, and they were escorted to a private table outside the Marie Antoinette Suite, which they passed very quickly, momentarily, through another world. A fancy world with golden chandeliers, wall murals, tapestry drapes, pink velvet chairs, white tablecloths, crystal, and fine china. It was a room with furniture from the Palace of Versailles, a room where President Dwight D. Eisenhower, French President Charles de Gaulle, and Sir Winston Churchill had discussed war tactics during World War II—a room of privilege, class, and status.

  They continued through quietly while eyes of recognition and polite whispers followed but lingered in the stuffy air behind them. They sat down at the small table, its centerpiece a four-tiered crystal plate of scones, and shared a laugh at their experience of nearly getting escorted from the Tea Room. When that finally died, uncomfortable silence danced between them, small talk hiding in the presence of strangers, threatening to submerge the rest of the conversation.

  A man with a white napkin dangling from his arm brought their tea, and, determined to remain as private, as invisible as possible, they poured it themselves, the trickle peaceful yet daunting. The sound of it became laughter in Serena’s mind, teasing, mocking her lack of experience in this high-class setting. Ceiling-length draperies, gold-plated everything, and furniture and ambience designed for royalty stared her in the face, waiting for her to say something equally as sophisticated, equally as proper.

  Instead, Serena jumped from her seat and struck a silly pose—sporting a serious expression, she put her hands on her thighs, stuck her butt way out—while Darren threw his head back with genuine laughter.

  They became instant friends.

  Over the next few hours, they talked about everything from music to movies to their Zodiac signs to their dogs. Darren shared stories of growing up in Australia, and Serena talked about her hobbies and told him her plans for the future.

  That was her focus now. Cancer was a thing of her past, and that’s where she wanted it to stay. She never mentioned it to Darren—saw no reason to burden him with it and didn’t need him feeling sorry for her. But there was one thing she wanted him to know.

  “You and I have met before,” Serena said. “At the Scottsdale Borders in Arizona.”

  Darren studied her for a moment, the faces of thousands of fans challenging his memory. “I had just gotten out of the hospital,” Serena said. “I had a walker …”

  “I remember you!” he exclaimed.

  He remembered me, she thought.

  They continued their time together by snapping dozens of pictures, moments frozen in time for them to hold on to—pictures of high fiving, striking poses, and acting silly—documenting the beginning of a newly formed friendship.

  “You know, I didn’t know what to expect with meeting all of you,” Darren said to Serena’s family when she left to use the restroom. “A lot of fans scream and cry and carry on. You’re all so normal!”

  When she returned, their visit continued for the next hour or so until it was time to leave. Serena’s wit, her humor and outlook, had drawn Darren to her in a deeper, more intense way than he had anticipated she would.

  “I plan to stalk her until the end of time,” he teased Kevin as they made their way from the hotel to the awaiting limo. And he wasn’t kidding. Darren planned to surprise Serena with an ongoing friendship. As they walked, she hummed a line from Darren’s song, “What You Like,” a song she had repeated over and over while in isolation and found irony in its meaning—unexpectedly traveling a journey from beginning to end with the same person.

  In Serena’s case, Darren was that person.

  He had been there from the beginning, from the first time she heard the word cancer on the way to her grandfather’s funeral. And now, cancer-free and almost five years later, everything had finally come together and made sense—all because of this trip, all because of this opportunity.

  “It was so nice to meet you,” Serena said as she gave Darren one last hug. “Thank you for everything.”

  She left it at that.

  “Everything”—his music, his lyrics, his inspiration.

  Any specific thank yous she might have said, might have thought in that moment, escaped. Wrapped in the pure joy of meeting him, she wouldn’t realize until later, until reality danced through the dream she was in, just how his music had driven her to a successfully positive outlook on life—how much solace she had found in his lyrics and his voice.

  Darren would later learn from Serena just how his music had set her free, how he was her musical companion when cancer took her away from the world. She would tell him how he had found her in the hospital during her first surgery and prepared her for her second and how he was her reason for getting out of the hospital when it was over.

  She looked at the invisible strength that stood before her and crawled into the limo after what she thought was the end of her journey with Darren.

  Little did she know, it was just the beginning. She had just made a friend for life, and so her wish would last forever.

  MESSAGES FROM THE FAMILIES

  Tatum

  Fifteen-year-old Tatum, her parents, David and Sherry, and her younger sister, eleven-year-old Hannah, stand in the living room of their Dallas home.

  WE FIRST WOULD like to thank you for taking the time to read Tatum’s story. It is our sincere hope and prayer that you take from this what you need at the time of reading it. Fact is always stranger than fiction, and the fact that we experienced what most people think will never happen to them is still shocking to us. We were hit with a baseball bat to the gut and had the wind knocked out of us. We found ourselves confused with many questions and the need to redefine what life is for our family. The Make-A-Wish Foundation, along with our family and friends, helped us to make the transition from misery to the ability to have fun during trials. We find it necessary to laugh and seek out the joy in times of adversity. Laughter heals, and our friends at Make-A-Wish have made that their priority. There is no pain and there are no procedures that come with Make-A-Wish, which makes it a refuge for families. Tatum is special for reasons other than her health issues, and that is what we celebrate. We are eternally grateful for the joy we experienced through the love of so many during the most intense and difficult time of our lives.

  —TATUM’S PARENTS, DAVID AND SHERRY NULL

  Katelyn

  Katelyn Atwell and Bob Crossman, chief instructor at Skydive DeLand, pose for a quick shot before jumping from a plane flying over DeLand, Florida, in November 2011 for Katelyn’s twenty-fifth birthday.

  Our hope for those who read Katelyn’s story is to realize that life really is about choices. Kate’s journey is not one we would have ever chosen, but the way we came out of it was determined by the choices we made during it. God had us walk this path for a reason, and we chose to look for every positive thread we could. We chose to never lose hope. We chose every single day to keep moving forward, never letting sadness or worry stop us. Some days, we were hanging on by a thread. It was our choice to never give up. An
d we are still making choices today—we choose not to let Kate’s disabilities define her or us. We continue to choose to test our boundaries. God wants us to live an abundant life, not just exist. As Kate would say, “Come on, let’s go jump out of a perfectly good airplane! Life is meant to be lived.”

  —KATELYN’S PARENTS, RAY AND SHARON ATWELL

  Brittney

  In the backyard of her San Diego home, T’Ann Wolfe holds a 2004 photo of her late daughter, Brittney, taken just seven months before Brittney passed away.

  Brittney would have loved to know that her story would be told in a book. As she fought her battle with cancer, she often told me that she would beat it and then help other kids get through it. She had dreams of traveling and talking to kids, letting them know what they were going to face, and then helping them face it. It was her dream to spread hope and optimism to other children with cancer. Even during the darkest moments of her fight, Brittney’s dreams remained big and she never gave up. She taught me more in her short life than I could ever have taught her in a lifetime—how to stay strong, look at the bright side, never lose hope, and always keep laughing. She was a little girl who could have changed the world. That is why I decided to share her story. I want people to become inspired by her spirit and all that she lived and stood for. She was a true believer in putting others before herself, making nobody worry unless absolutely necessary, and keeping a smile on her face, no matter what. Together, by retelling the story we lived, we hope to spread inspiration with Brittney’s motto on life—love, laughter, and no tears!

  —BRITTNEY’S MOM, T’ANN WOLFE

  Garrett

  On a trip last year to the Czech Republic, Garrett Stuart, with his parents, Mike and Linda, pose at the Kotnov Castle in Tabor.

  Life is a gift, and no matter what you are given, whether it is Dystonia or any other type of hardship, it is still a gift. It is important to stay positive and remember that if one road does not work out, there is another. Never give up! Additionally, it is amazing to see the positive impact one can have on another. While it is rewarding for the person receiving the help, it can be just as gratifying for the individual providing it. So, my message is to stay positive and realize the power of giving.