فصل نوزدهم

CHAPTER 19

STELLA

We leave the pool, our hair slowly drying as night turns into early morning. We walk past things I’ve seen a million times in my years at Saint Grace’s. Dozing security guards, and surgeons angrily shaking the broken vending machine by the lobby, the same white tile floors and the same dimly lit hallways, but everything seems different with Will next to me. It’s like seeing everything for the first time. I didn’t know it was possible for a person to make old things become new again.

We walk slowly past the cafeteria and stand in front of a huge glass window off to the side, away from any passersby, watching the sky slowly lighten. Everything is still quiet on the other side of the glass. My eyes land on the lights at the park in the distance.

I take a deep breath and point at them. “See those lights?”

Will nods, looking over at me, his hair slicked back from the pool water. “Yeah. I always look at them when I sit on the roof.” He watches me as I look back at the lights. “Every year Abby and I would go there. She used to call them stars because there are so many.” I smile, laughing. “My family used to call me Little Star.” I hear Abby’s voice in my ear, saying my nickname. It hurts, but the pain isn’t as sharp. “She’d make a wish and she’d never, ever tell me what it was. She used to joke that if she said it out loud, it would never come true.” The tiny pinpoints of light twinkle in the distance, calling out to me, as if Abby is out there now. “But I knew. She wished for new lungs for me.” I breathe in and out, feeling the ever-present struggle of my lungs to rise and fall, and I wonder what it would be like with new lungs. Lungs that, for a short while, would completely change life as I know it. Lungs that would actually work. Lungs that would let me breathe, and let me run, and give me more time to really live.

“I hope her wish comes true,” Will says, and I lean my head on the cold glass, glancing over at him.

“I hope my life wasn’t for nothing,” I say, my own wish on those twinkling lights.

He gives me a long look. “Your life is everything, Stella. You affect people more than you know.” He touches his chest, putting his hand over his heart. “I speak from experience.” My breath fogs up the glass of the window, and I reach up, drawing a big heart. We look at each other in the reflection of the glass, and I feel the gravity of him, pulling at me across the open space. It tugs at every single part of me, my chest and my arms and my fingertips. I want to kiss him more than I want absolutely anything.

Instead, I lean over, kissing his reflection on the glass.

He reaches up slowly, touching his mouth with his fingertips, like he felt it, and we turn to face each other. I look over at him as the sun slowly crests the horizon, casting a warm glow onto his face, his eyes bright and filled with something brand new but somehow familiar.

My skin starts to prickle.

He takes a small step toward me, his gloved hand sliding slowly up the length of the pool cue, his eyes cautious as my heart begins to race. I move to step closer, to steal back a few more inches, to be just that much nearer to him.

But my phone goes off, chirping away over and over, and the magic of the moment floats away like a balloon. I grab my phone from my back pocket and see a text from Poe, feeling a mix of sadness and relief as Will and I pull away from each other.

SOS.

Barb is looking for you two!!!

WHERE ARE YOU GUYS?

Oh my god. Panic fills every part of me, and I look up at Will, my eyes wide. If she finds us together, we’ll never have a second date. “Oh no. Will. Barb’s looking for us!” What are we going to do? We couldn’t be farther from our wing.

He looks panicked too for a fraction of a second, and then he pulls himself together, his eyebrows furrowing as he goes into full-on damage-control mode. “Stella, where will she look for you first?” My mind races. “The NICU!”

The west entrance. Barb will be coming in from the other side. If I book it, I can maybe make it there in time.

My head snaps over to the elevators, and I see the doors slowly closing. Grimacing, I lean the pool cue against the wall, and bolt for the stairwell as Will books it in the opposite direction, back to our floor.

Putting one foot after the other, I chug up the stairs, my arms and legs starting to burn as I drag my body up to the fifth floor. Yanking my portable oxygen farther up on my shoulder, I head down the empty corridor. My feet slap against the floor noisily, my breathing coming in frantic gasps.

This is so bad. Barb will kill me. Well, first Will, then definitely me.

My lungs feel like they are on fire as I slam my body against the door with a large red five printed on it, the west entrance to the NICU swimming into view. I try to suck in as much air as I possibly can, coughing desperately as I flip open a keypad, my hands shaking too much to type in the numbers.

I’m going to get caught. I’m too late.

I grab my right hand with my left, steadying it enough to type 6428. NICU. The door unlocks with a click, and I throw myself onto an empty couch, my head swimming as I slam my eyes shut, pretending to sleep.

Not even a second later the east entrance door bursts open, and I hear footsteps, then smell Barb’s perfume as she stops short right next to me. My chest burns as I try to control my breathing, trying desperately to look tranquil while my body yearns for air.

I feel a blanket fan out over me, and then hear her steps slowly leaving, the east entrance door opening and closing behind her.

I sit bolt upright, coughing, my eyes filling with tears as a blinding pain shoots across my chest and all over my body. The pain gradually fades, my vision clearing as my body gets the air it needs. The amount of relief I feel right now is matched only by the amount of adrenaline coursing through my body.

I pull out my phone, sending a thumbs-up emoji to Will. He responds half a second later with: I CAN’T BELIEVE WE DIDN’T GET CAUGHT.

I laugh, sinking down into the warm couch, the whirlwind of last night still making my heart float miles above the hospital.

There’s a knock on my door, jolting me awake from my uncomfortable nap sprawl in the hideous green armchair by the window. I rub my eyes sleepily as I check my phone, squinting at the screen.

It’s already one o’clock. Which would explain the three million texts from Camila and Mya and Poe asking about how last night went.

Last night.

I smile at just the thought of it, feeling a wave of happiness overtake me. Standing, I shuffle over to the door and pull it open, confused when there’s nobody on the other side. That’s odd. Then I look down, noticing a cafeteria milk shake sitting on the floor, a note resting underneath it.

Bending down, I pick it up, smiling as I read: “Poe said you like chocolate. Vanilla is obviously the better flavor, but I’ll let it slide because I like you.” He even took the time to draw a cartoon podium, with a vanilla ice-cream cone beating out chocolate and strawberry for the first-place medal.

I laugh, looking down the hall to see Will outside his door, wearing a face mask and gloves. He pulls the face mask down and makes a face as Barb rounds the corner. He winks at me and pushes open the door to his room, quickly disappearing inside before she sees him.

I hide the milk shake and note behind my back, slapping on a big smile. “Morning, Barb!” She looks up from a patient chart, eyeing me suspiciously. “It’s afternoon.”

I nod, slowly stepping back inside. “Sure, right. Afternoon.” I gesture with my free hand. “All this snow, you know, makes it hard to tell . . . what time of day it is.” I roll my eyes, closing the door before I can say anything more ridiculous.

We lie low for the rest of the day so we don’t make Barb more suspicious of us. We don’t even risk Skyping or texting. I make a big show of reorganizing my med cart, secretly slipping notes under Will’s door every time I’m in the hallway to get more supplies.

Will heads to the vending machine about a dozen times, his replies coming with every new bag of chips or candy bar.

“When is date number two?” he writes, and I smile, glancing to my notebook at what I’ve actually spent my day working on.

My plan for his birthday tomorrow.