From thecornerofher eye,Katie sawaboywith redhairwhowasaboutherage.Hestoodnearthedoorway,lookingnervous.Withastart,she realized he was watching her, because he kept diverting his gazewhensheglancedhisway.Odd,Katietoldherself.Katiehadanaggingsense she’d seen him before, even though she couldn’t place him. Asnonchalantlyaspossible,sherolledherwheelchaircloser,pickingupamagazineasshepassedatable.Sheflippedthroughthemagazine,pretendingtobeinterested,allthe

whileglancingdiscreetlytowardtheboy.Eventhoughhealsopickedupamagazine,Katiecouldtellthathewaspreoccupiedwithstudyingher.Suddenly, shegrewself-conscious.Wassomethingwrongwith thewayshe looked? She’d thought she looked better than she had in monthswhenshe’dleftherhospitalroomthatafternoon.Whywashewatchingher?

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Contents

Cover

AlsoAvailableinDellLaurel-LeafBooks

TitlePage

Copyright

ChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreeChapterFourChapterFiveChapterSixChapterSevenChapterEightChapterNineChapterTenChapterElevenChapterTwelveChapterThirteenChapterFourteenChapterFifteenChapterSixteenChapterSeventeenChapterEighteenChapterNineteenChapterTwenty

Author’sNoteOtherBooksbyThisAuthor

One

DearKatie,

Youdon’tknowme,but Iknowaboutyou,andbecause Ido, Iwant togiveyoua special gift.Accompanyingthisletterisacertifiedcheck,mygifttoyou,withnostringsattached,tospendonanythingyouwant.Nooneknowsaboutthisgiftexceptyou,andyouarefreetotellanyoneyouwant.

WhoIamisn’treallyimportant,onlythatyouandIhavemuchincommon.Throughnofaultofour own, we have endured pain and isolation and have spent many days in a hospital feelinglonelyandscared.Ihopedforamiracle,butmostofallIhopedforsomeonetotrulyunderstandwhatIwasgoingthrough.

I can’t make you live longer, I can’t stop you from hurting. But I can give you one wish, assomeonedidforme.Mywishhelpedmefindpurpose,faith,andcourage.

Friendship reaches beyond time, and the truemiracle is in giving, not receiving.Usemy gift tofulfillyourwish.

YourForeverFriend,JWC

KATIE O‘ROARK REREAD the letter that had mysteriously appeared in thedrawerofherbedsidetableatthehospitaltwoweeksbefore.Ithadbeeninalongenvelope,sealedwithredwaxandstampedwithOLW,fortheOne LastWish Foundation. She remembered the numbing shock she’dexperienced as she read the letter and found a certified check for onehundredthousanddollars.Nomatterhowmanytimesshewentovertheletter, shewasunable to figureout the identityofherbenefactor.Thecheck,madeouttoherandsignedbyaRichardHolloway,whomshe’dalso never heard of, was hers to spend on anything she wanted. Her

parentscouldn’tfigureitout,either,butitwasnojoke.Themoneywasnowinthebank.“Still trying to solve that mystery?” her mother asked, coming intoKatie’s bedroom. “Your father’s tried everything he knows and can’tcomeupwithananswer.”Katie’sdadwasareporteronanAnnArbornewspaper,andhadaccessto computer banks of data and information. If anyone could find outabouttheFoundation,DanO’Roarkcould.Evenhecouldn’t,though.“It bothersme, not knowingwho’d giveme somuchmoney,” Katiesaid.“Iwanttoknowwhoandwhy.”“Don’tthinkaboutit.IfthegenerousJWCwantedyoutoknow,heorshewouldn’tactsosecretive.Let’sjustbegrateful.”Katieadjustedtheflexibletubingattachedtotheoxygentankbesideher bed and leaned wearily against her pillow. The money was afantasticgiftallright,buthowcoulditbuyhertheonethingsheneededmost?Noamountofmoneycouldpurchaseheranewheart.“IcameuptotellyouthatMelody’shere.Shewantstoseeyou.Areyouuptovisitors?”hermotherasked.MelodyBernelli,Katie’ssixteen-year-oldbestfriend,stoppedbyeveryday after school. Katie wanted to see her, but couldn’t deny thatMelody’svisitswerebecomingharderemotionally.Melodyremindedhertoo much of the “normal” world she’d had to leave behind monthsbefore. “Sure, Mom. Tell her to come up,” Katie replied, tucking theletterunderhersheet.Minutes later,Melody bounced into the room, her brown eyeswidewithconcern.“Yourmomsaidyouhadabadnight.”Melodydraggedachairovertothebed.“Iwon’tstaylong,butIjusthadtoseeyou,Katie.IalmostskippedlastperiodtodaybecauseIgotthishorriblefeelingthatyouwereworseandthatIwasn’tgoingtogettoseeyouagain.”Katie smiled, although the effort cost her. Even the smallest tasksrobbed her of strength. “I’m no worse,” she assured her friend. “Nobetter,either.”“I just can’tbelieve this ishappening toyou,”Melodywailed. “Howwillthetrackteammanagewithoutyounextspring?”

Ann Arbor High was a big school with well over twelve hundredstudents in attendance. The girls’ junior year had just barely begun.“CoachHudsonstoppedbylastnight,”Katiesaid.“Shetriedtogivemea pep talk, but unless a miracle happens, I won’t be running trackagain.”“Mrs. Collins wants to do an article in the school newspaper aboutyou.”Katie frowned. “I wouldn’t like that. Dad’s already run one in hissportscolumnaboutme.IhatehavinghalfofMichiganknowingaboutmyproblems.”“Why?Whenhewritesaboutyou,he’simpartial.Henevergivesourschool’strackteammorespacethananyother.Evenlastyear,whenwewonall-cityandyouhadthebesttimeonyourlegoftherelayrace.Thistime, it’s different, Katie. This time, ifmore people read aboutwhat’shappeningtoyou,maybeyou’llhaveabetterchance.”“Better chance for what?” Katie asked as she took deep breaths ofoxygen.“Myonlychanceistogetanewheart.Who’sgotonetospare?”Melody hung her head, and Katie saw that her eyes had filledwithtears.“Don’tcry,Melly—itwon’thelp,anditmakesmefeelbad,”Katiewhispered.Melody grabbed a tissue from the table next to the bed anddabbedhereyes.“Ican’thelpit.It’sallsounfair!Whydidthishappentoyou?”Katiehadnoanswers.Thepast fewmonthsofher lifeseemedlikeanightmare. She’d gotten a cold—a simple, ordinary cold—last May. Ithad persisted, and no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake thelingeringfatigueandshortnessofbreath.Soon,evenclimbingthestairsto her room had become a chore. She’d experienced dizzy spells, andalthoughitwasJune,she’dfeltcoldallthetime.“You’re going to the doctor for a thorough exam,” her mother hadinsisted.Her family doctor had referred her to the teaching hospital at theUniversityofMichigan,whereshe’dbecomethepatientofDr.Curtis,acardiologist.Heputherthroughvarioustests.Shecouldhardlycompletethetreadmill test,arealembarrassmentforthegirlwho’dbeennamed

top sophomore sprinter by a vote of all areahigh school coaches onlylastspring.Dr. Curtis told the O’Roarks, “I’m putting Katie in the hospital and

gettingacompleteworkupdoneonher.”“Hospital?”Katiecried.“Idon’twanttobeinthehospital.”“Katie’sneverbeensickadayinherlife,”hermotherdeclared.“Well, she’s sick now,” Dr. Curtis said, “and I want to get to the

bottomofit.”Overnight, her world had turned upside down. Katie had been

hospitalized, and poked and prodded and tested until she thought shewouldscream.Dr.Curtisdidaheartcatheterization,numbinganareainhergroinandsnakinga thin, flexible tubeupanartery intoherheart.She watched the procedure on a video monitor as he injected dyethroughthetubetobetterseetheinsideofherheart.Katie would never forget the day Dr. Curtis had sat her and her

parentsdowninhisofficeandgrimlyexplained,“Katie’ssufferingfromviral cardiomyopathy.Yourheart’s amuscle.A virushas attacked anddestroyedit.”“My heart?” Katie asked, incredulous. At first, her parentswere too

stunnedtoreact.Dr. Curtis picked up a plastic model of a heart from his desk and

explainedthefunctionsofitschambers.“Yourheartmuscleisweakenedand flabby. It’s enlarged and having to work twice as hard to deliveroxygentoyourblood.That’swhyyou’retiredallthetime.”Hereachedover and took her hand. “That’s why your nail beds and lips lookbluish.”Hewas right. Therewas a definite bluish cast to her fingertips. She

tookherhandsawayandshovedtheminherlap.“Whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?”herfatherasked.“First,we’llgetKatiestabilized,putheronmedications,and,Ihope,

sendherhome.”Katie’s already sickheartwaspounding rapidly andmakingher feel

lightheaded.“Then Icanstart school inSeptemberandresumetrack?”Katieasked.

Thedoctorshookhishead.“Absolutelynot,Katie.You’reaverysickyounglady.”Apprehension overmissing school and track seasonwas replaced byfear.“Howsick?”sheheardherfatherask.“Cardiomyopathyisfatal,”Dr.Curtissaid.“Katie’sonlyrealhopeisahearttransplant,butgettingintotheprogramiscomplicated.”She learned that getting a heart transplant was a long process thatbeganwith interviews for psychological suitability—not everyonewhoneededaneworgancouldhandlereceivingone.The O’Roarks learned that nationwide, over twenty-five thousandpeoplewereawaitinglifesavingtransplants,forhearts,kidneys,orlivers,andthateveryfourhours,someonedied—stillwaiting.Shelearnedthatevenifshewaseligible,shewouldbeplacedonthelongwaitinglistoftheuniversity’stransplantprogram.Her father had demanded to know how she could bemoved to theheadofthelist.Dr.Curtispatientlyexplained,“Needisourmaincriteriaofevaluation.”“YousaidKatieneededit.Thatshe’lldiewithoutit.”“Right now, she’s stable and ambulatory. There are others muchsicker.Even if shegoesonto the list, she’ll have towait for a suitabledonor, one similar in body structure—someone tall and slimwith herrarebloodtype.”“Couldherbloodtypebeadrawback?”“Itdepends.Sometimes,itcanmovehertothetopofthelist,allotherfactors being equal. Sometimes, it can be an impediment because therarerthebloodtype,thehardertomatchit.”Katiehadlistenedtoallthetalkandgrownmorefrightened.Withsomuchagainsther,howdidshehaveachance?Then,mysteriously, thedaybeforeshecheckedoutofthehospitaltoreturnhome,theletterandthe check had arrived from the One Last Wish Foundation. ThemysteriousJWC’sgifthadsuffusedherwithnewhope.Surely,someoneunderstood her plight. Someone realized how desperate her situationwas growing day by day. Althoughmoney wasn’t a criterion for whoreceivedatransplant,shewasgratefulforthekindnessofJWC.

Dr.Curtis sentherhomewitha regimeofmedications.Katiedidallright for awhile, but now she was bedridden and on oxygen almosttwenty-four hours a day. Katie read her Wish letter every day andprayedthatshe’dlivelongenoughtospendthemoneyfromastrangershecouldonlyhopeonedaytomeet.

Two

KATIEWOKEWITHastart.Someonehadclosedherblinds,andherroomwasshroudedingloom.ShelookedaroundforMelody,thenrealizedthatshemusthavefallenasleepwhileherfriendhadbeenvisitingwithher.Sheimagined Melody tiptoeing out so as not to awaken her, and feltembarrassed.Shecouldn’tevenlastthroughahalf-hourvisit.From downstairs, she heard the sounds of her mother preparing

supper.Sadnessstoleoverherassherememberedhowonceshewouldhavebeensettingthetableandtellinghermomaboutherdayatschool.Katie felt tearswellup,andshemighthaveallowedthemto flow,butherfatherwalkedthroughthedoorway.“Gottimeforavisitfromyouroldman?”heasked.Katie quickly wiped away the tears, not wanting him to see her

bawlingandfeelingsorryforherself.“Plentyoftime,”shetoldhim.HetookthechairMelodyhadused.“CanIturnonalight?”“Goahead.Ididn’trealizeitwassolate.”He lit the lamp, and immediately she felt less alone. “How’re you

doing,honey?”“I’msortofdowntoday,Dad.”Shefigured,whylie?Hetookherhand,hisblueeyeslookingpained.“I’dgiveanythingifI

couldmakethisallgoawayforyou.”“Iknow.”Therehadbeenatimewhenshe’dbelievedthatherdaddy

coulddoanything.Hewasstrongandbig,withaheartylaughthathadchasedawaygoblinswhenshewasasmallchild,scaredbythedark.“Ithoughtyouhadtocoverafootballgametonight,”shesaid.

Since her dadwas a sports reporter, autumnwas one of his busiesttimesoftheyear.HecoveredareahighschoolfootballandmanyoftheUniversityofMichigangamesinhisbiweeklycolumn.“IgotHanktofillinforme.”“Soyoucouldsitaroundandwatchmesleep?”“I’mworkingonotherprojectsthisweek.”Hehadacomputersetupinthedenthatwaslinkedtothenewspaper’smainterminal.“You’re not going to do another schmaltzy column about me, areyou?”“Is that what you think of my writing?” He pretended to lookoffended.“Onlywhenit’saboutme.”Intruth,whenhe’dwrittenaboutherlastspring,ithadbeenoneoftheproudestmomentsofherlife.He’dcalledher“aflashofbrilliance”with“wingsonherfeet,swiftenoughtobringvictorylaurelstoherschoolandpridetoherfather’sheart.”“The story I wrote about the need for organ donors has brought afloodofmailintothepaper.”Of course, he was talking about the same story Melody hadmentioned.“Sure…butdiditbringinanyhearts?”Hesmiledatherdarkhumor.Hermotherenteredtheroom,satdownonKatie’s bed, and fussedwith thebed sheet. “Supper’s onhold,” shesaid.“IthoughtI’dbringtraysupandwecouldalleattogethertonight.”Katie knew somethingwas up, because they both looked so serious.“What’shappening,Dad?”sheasked.“I had a powwow with Dr. Curtis and the chief honcho of thetransplantdepartmenttoday.”“Youdidn’tcauseascene,didyou?”“I’ve tried thatalready, remember?No.Todaywe talkedaboutyouroverall condition. You’re weaker, Katie. Two weeks ago, you couldnavigatethestairsifwehelpedyou.Andyouweren’tsuckingonoxygenaroundtheclock.”“Idon’twanttogobacktothehospital.Ihateitthere.”Hereathome,sheatleasthadallthefamiliartrappingsofherlifearoundher.Itwas

comforting.“Katie,Dr.Curtisisputtingyouonabeeper.”Going on the beepermeant that she’d been activated on theUnitedNetwork for Organ Sharing—UNOS—the national computer networkthatmatchesdonatedorganswithwaitingpatients.“Imoveduponthelist?”sheasked.“You’reapriority,Katie,”hermothersaid.“Thehospitalwillgiveusabeeper,”herdadexplained.“Itcangooffanytime,dayornight.Whenitdoes,wegoimmediatelytothehospital,becauseitmeanstheyhaveapotentialdonorforyou.Andasyouknow,timeisoftheessence.”Katie felta fine filmofperspirationbreakoutonher face.Living inthesamecityasanationaltransplantcentermadeiteasierforhertogetto the hospital quickly, but the donor heart might be coming fromanywhere.Anddespiteall thenewestand latestmedical technology, adonatedorganhadmaybeafour-hourlifespanoutsidethehumanbody.Thatmeantthathersurgeonshadverylittletimetotransporttheheartandplaceitinsideher.“IguessIshouldbeglad.It’swhatwe’veallbeenwaitingfor,isn’tit?”Katieremarked.“I’mglad,”hermothersaid.“Eventhoughtheprocedureisrisky, it’syouronlyhope.”“Seems weird to be waiting for someone to die so that I can live,doesn’tit?”“Don’tthinkofitthatway.Thinkofitasanopportunitytohelpapartofsomebodylivebeyondtheirappointedlifespan,”herdadreplied.“Theoperationwillcostalotofmoney,won’tit?”Katiechangedthesubjectbecausetheideaofextendingsomeoneelse’slifethroughherselfwastoomind-boggling.“Don’tyouthinkonebitaboutthatpart,Katie,”hermothersaid.“Wecan’tputapriceonyourlife.”“UsetheWishmoney.”“My health insurance at work will cover the transplant,” her father

toldher.Suddenly,Katie’schesttightenedandpainshotthroughher.Shewas

afraidthatshemightpassout.Seeing her distress, her mother turned up the valve on the oxygen

tank.“Doyouneedapainpill?”sheaskedanxiously.Katie shook her head. She disliked the dopey feeling the medicine

gaveher.Instead,shetookgreatgulpsofpureoxygenuntilshefeltthepainsubsideandherheadclear.“Thinkofsomethingfunyouwanttodowiththemoney,”hermother

said,tryingtopickupthethreadoftheconversation.Katiecouldhearafearfultremorinhervoice.“YourfatherandIwillhandlethefinances.Youpicksomethingexcitingforusalltodooncethisisoverandyou’rebetter.”Katie gazed around her room to her desk heaped with books, to

shelves that held countless ribbons and trophies for field and trackevents she’dwon over the years. “All I want to do is run again,” shewhispered.“Evenif thetransplant’ssuccessful,youmaynotget todothat,”her

mothersaid.Katiecouldn’timagineherlifewithoutrunning.“Butifthetransplant

works,whycan’tIdoeverythingIalwaysdidbefore?Theycan’tfixmeup,thentellmeIhavetobeaninvalidfortherestofmylife.”“Don’t get overly excited, dear. We can talk about the future once

you’vehadyourtransplant.”“Iwanttolive,”Katiepersisted,lookingatherparents’worriedfaces.

“And forme, living is running. I had a real chance at a college trackscholarshipbeforeallthishappened.”“You’ll go to college,” her mother declared. “I wouldn’t fret about

that.You’lldiscoverotherthingstobeinterestedin,otherthingstobeinvolvedwithasyougetolder.”Katie knew from meetings with the transplant staff that heart

transplant patients had a survival rate of eighty-five percent for theirfirst year following theprocedure, and a fifty percent chanceof livingfiveyears.Infiveyears,she’dbetwenty-one—oflegalagetovote.Ifshe

lived…ifshefirstsurvivedthesurgery.“Let’snotthinkaboutwhatyou’llbelosing,”herfatheradded,sensingherdisappointment.“Let’sthinkaboutwhatyou’llbegaining.”“The chance to live,” Katie said. How fickle life could be. Monthsbefore,she’dbeenaregularteenager,atoptrackstarwithalifetimeofplansanddreams.Now,becauseofsomecomplicationsfromavirus,shewas struggling to stay alive. Her thoughts turned to her mysteriousbenefactor,who’dwritten,“…youandIhavemuchincommon.”HadJWCneededatransplant,too?Ifso,hadheorshegottenit?HadJWCsurvived?Ifithadturnedoutwell,thenwhyhadJWCchosentoremainanonymous? Didn’t JWC realize that a personal visit to prove that allwaswellwasworthmorethanacrypticletter?Katie sighedandglancedatherparents’ concernedexpressions. “So,wegetthebeeperandwaitforittogooff,”shesummarized.“That’sright,”herfathersaid.“Now,allwecandoiswait.”Andprayforsomebody’sheart,Katieaddedtoherself.

Three

“GRAMPS, HURRY UP!Wedon’twant tomiss thekickoff,” JoshMartel said,glancingbackoverhisshoulderattheelderlymanshufflingthroughthecrowdbehindhim.“Hold your horses,” Gramps grumbled, juggling a lap blanket, a

programbooklet,andaMichiganfootballpennant.“You’resixteen,andI’meighty.Youcanmovefasterthanme,boy.”Josh slowed, purposefully stepping to the older man’s side and

relievinghimofhispennantandfoldedblanket.“Letmecarrythisstuffforyou.”The twoof themmade theirway to their box seats at the fifty-yard

lineofthestadium.“Don’tseewhatthebighurryis,anyway.Kickoff’sthirtyminutesaway,”Grampssaid.The box seats were chairs, not benches, like the majority of the

stadiumwheremostof thefanssat.“Ididn’trealizeAarongotussuchgoodseats,”Joshsaid,spreadingtheblanketacrosshisgrandfather’slap.Hestudiedthefootballplayerswarminguponthefield.“Doyouseehim?”Grampsasked.Josh pointed. “That’s Aaron. Number nine.” He felt an inordinate

sense of pride over seeing his older brother dressed in the blue andyellowoftheWolverines.Hescannedtheprogramafterflippingitopento the team roster. He pointed to his brother’s name. “See, Gramps:‘AaronMartel,Kicker.’He’llbedoingthefieldgoalsandextrapoints.”“Iknowwhatakickerdoes.I’mnotsenile,youknow.”Joshsuppressedasmile.Thegrizzlyoldmangrumbleda lot,buthe

wasprettycool.Thereweren’tmanymenhisagewhowouldhavetakenintwoteenagebrothersonaweek’snotice.Ofcourse,Aaronhadalreadybeen accepted toMichigan on football scholarship andwasmoving toAnnArbor,anyway;butthingshadbeensobadathomeinIndianathathe’ddemandedJoshbeallowedtocomewithhim.HecouldliveinAnnArborwithGramps,Joshhadargued,andgo toAnnArborHigh.Thatway, thebrothers could seeeachotheroften.Grampshadagreed, andtheirparentshadletthemgo.Otherwise,Joshwouldstillbestuckinhisnightmarishhomesituation.JoshsawAaronjogovertothesideofthewallandsignalforhimtocomedown.“Berightback,”Joshsaid,andboundeddownthestadiumstepsuntilhewasatthewall,lookingoverathisbrother.“How’shedoing?”Aaronasked,glancingtowardtheoldman.“YouknowGramps—hegrousesandpretendsthisissuchadrag,buthe’sreallyproud.Iheardhimtellinghisneighborthat‘hisgrandsonwasgoingtokicksomeIrishbuttinthegametoday.’”Joshgrinned.“Doyouthink theNotreDamebench is scared of the hot-shot freshman kickerfromIndiana?”“Terrified,” Aaron answered with a grin. “Not as scared as I am,though.”“Comeon…Youhadgreat high school stats. That’swhy they gaveyouascholarship.”“This is thebig time, littlebro.High schooldoesn’t count for squat.Speakingofthat,howdoyoulikeyournewschool?”Joshshrugged.“It’sawfullybig,andIstillgetlostinthehalls.Isignedupforcrosscountry.It’llhelpkeepmefittilltrackstartsinthespring.”Fromout on the field, awhistle blew. “I’ve got to get to the lockerroom,”Aaron said.He shovedhis helmet overhis dark curlyhair andsteppedbackward.“I’llseeyouafterthegame,andmaybeyoucancomeoverandshootsomepoolwithmeandtheguysnextweek.”“Sounds cool,” Josh called. He watched Aaron wave and disappearintoadarktunnelintheconcretesideofthestadiumwall.“Goodday for a game,”Gramps commented as Josh returned to hisseat.“Gooddayforawin.”

JoshhadtoagreethattheSeptemberdaywasperfectashegazedupat thecloudlessblue sky.Theairwas socrystal clear, it sparkled,andcoolnightshadalreadytippedthetreetopswithredandgold.Joshfeltadeepsenseofsatisfactioninknowingthatafteryearsofunhappiness,hisandAaron’s luckhadchanged.Hewasbeginninganew life, gettingafreshstart—andhewasmorethanready.Whenthestartingwhistleblew,thousandsoffanssurgedtotheirfeet.Josh yelled for the Michigan Wolverines, but his eyes were on hisbrother,whobooted the football into theopponent’s end zone.By thestart of the third quarter,NotreDamewas leading by three points, sowhenMichiganhadachancetotieitupwithafieldgoal,allfanslookedtothespectacularfreshmankicker.JoshfelthisheartpoundingasAaronjogged out onto the field from the sidelineswhile thousands of voicesbegantochanthisname.“Herewego,”Grampsyelled.“Dousproud,boy.”The team hunched into formation, and Josh leaned forward inanticipation.Theballwassnappedtotheholder,whosteadieditonthetee.Aaronstartedrunningforward,thenstopped.Suddenly,hegraspedhis helmet with both hands, staggered backward, and dropped to oneknee.Fromthere,hefelltothegroundinaheap.Therefereeblewhiswhistleasconfusioneruptedonthefieldanddisorderinthestands.Josh felt time begin to move in surrealistic sequence. A group ofcoaches ran out onto the field and surrounded their downed player,shieldinghimfromthousandsofcuriouseyes.Fansgaspedandbuzzedwithquestions.Theannouncer’svoicecameoverthePAsystem,“KickerAaronMartelisdown.Officialtime-outhasbeencalled.”“What’s wrong?” Gramps asked, snapping through Josh’s stupor.“Why’shelyingdown?”Josh shook off shocked numbness and felt adrenaline shoot throughhim.“I’llbeback!”heyelled tohisgrandfather. Inseveral long-leggedbounds,heshotdownthestadiumsteps,boostedhimselfoverthewall,and ran across the field.Hebarely remembered shoving aside the copwhotriedtostophimandcontinuedtochasehim.CominguptothecrushofmenhoveringoverAaron,Joshshoulderedhiswaythrough.“He’smybrother!”heyelled.“Getoutofmyway!Let

methrough.”Hands tried to push Josh away, but not before he saw Aaron lying

stretched out on the ground, his helmet off, his face ashy gray. Twocoaches were giving him artificial respiration, one pumping Aaron’schest,anotherblowingairintohismouth.TerrorcoursedthroughJosh’sbody.Stronghandsgrabbedhimandspunhimaround.“I’mCoachMuller,”

abroad,heavysetmansaid.“Let’sgiveourmenroomtowork.”“What’swrong?What’shappenedtomybrother?”“Wedon’tknow.He’sbeingtransportedtothehospital.”“Hospital!Buthow’dhegethurt?”“We’redoingallwecan,son.”CoachMuller’shandsrestedfirmlyon

Josh’sshoulders.Josh staggered backward, a heavy sweat flooding over him and

turningintoabitingchill.Hedidn’tneedadoctortotellhimthatAaronwasindesperateshape.Soon,heheardthewailofanambulance,thensawmoremenrushoutontothefield,rollingaportablestretcher.Oneimmediatelytookoverthechestmassage,andanotherthrustabagoverAaron’smouthandbegan squeezing. Snatchesofdialogue floatedoverthescene.“… not breathing … IV’s started … bagged and ready for

transport…”Astherollingstretcherwentpasthim,onemedicheldhighanIVpouch,whichwasattachedbyalongtubetoAaron’sarm.OtherspumpedthebagprotrudingfromAaron’smouthandpressedrepeatedlyonhischest.“Where’re you taking him?” Josh cried. His voice sounded raspy,

foreign.CoachMullerpulledonJosh’sarm.“Comewithme.I’lldriveyou.Are

youalone?”Josh suddenly remembered his grandfather up in the stands. “No.

Gramps—”CoachMullerinterrupted.“Givemeyourticketstub,andI’llhavethe

policebringhim.”

Obediently, Joshwentwith the coach, through thedarkened tunnel,towardthesidegateleadingtothecoaches’parkinglot.Fromfaraway,heheardthemoanoftheambulance’ssiren.Itsforlornsoundfadedintotheautumnairlikealostandlonelycry.

*

Theemergencyroomofthesmalllocalhospitalwaspracticallyempty,andaTVsetwastunedtothegame.AvideoreplayofAaroncrumblingon the fieldplayedat regular intervals,andanannouncerkept saying,“NowordyetaboutfreshmankickerAaronMartel.”Joshstaredvacantlyat the endless scene, each time feeling anew the horror of watchingAaronfall.At some point, the police arrived with his grandfather, whose eyeslookedconfusedandwatery.ThestaffshowedJosh,Gramps,andCoachMuller to a small anteroom off one of the corridors, where they satsilently.“What’stakingsolong?”Joshsprangoutofhischairandpacedlikeacagedanimal. “It’sbeenoveranhour. Shouldn’t theyknowsomethingbynow?”Hewantedtoburst throughthedoorwayandgofindAaron,butthecoachrestrainedhim.“They’llletusknowassoonaspossible,”thecoachsaidsoothingly.Joshheardloudvoicesinthehallwayandrealizedthatthepolicehadsealedoffthearea.Reportershadalreadyflockedtothehospital.“Doyouthinkthedoctorswillbeabletofindusstuckoffhereinthislittleroom?”Grampsasked.“Doyouthinkthey’llrememberwheretheyputus?”Joshgazeddownattheoldman,sittinghunchedinachair.Helookedsmall andhelpless, and Josh felt a surgeof pity forhim.He crouchedbeside Gramps and took his hand. “Do youwant something, Gramps?Somecoffee?Water?”Grampspeeredhesitantly intoJosh’s face. “Aaron’sagoodboy.Youtellthedoctorsthat.Hedoesn’tdodrugslikesomekids.He’sarealgoodboy.”Josh felt a knot form inhis throat.He forced it down, replacinghis

urgetocrywithrenewedfury.“Thiswaitingisstupid!Theycan’tlockusupinherelikethis!”Before he could flee, the door opened and a man dressed in green

hospitalscrubscameinside.Joshstood,feelingasifalltheairhadbeensuckedfromthetinyroom.“I’mDr.Wright—theERphysician.”Behindhisthickglasses,hisexpressionlookedhaggardanddefeated.“What’swrong?How’sAaron?”Dr.WrightputhishandonJosh’sshoulder.“Yourbrother’sdead,son.

Hediedbeforehehittheground.”

Four

“YOU’RELYING!”THEwordsexplodedoutofJosh’smouth.Hetookaswingatthe doctor andmight have connectedwith a punch, butCoachMullergrabbedhisarm.Stunned,thedoctorjumpedbackward.“I’msorry,butit’strue.We’ve

got him on a respirator, and we’ve completed testing—he’s totallyunresponsive.”Thedooropened,andanotherdoctorhurriedintotheroom.“I’mDr.

Lowenstein,aneurologist.Please,letmetalktoyou.”Joshfelthisheartthuddinginsidehischest likearunawaytrain.He

felt lightheadedandqueasy.Dr.LowensteintookhiselbowandguidedhimovertoachairnexttoGramps.“Son,Iknowhowdifficultthisisforyou,andI’dgiveanythingifIcouldtellyouotherwise,butyourbrothersufferedananeurysminhisbrain—aruptureofamajorbloodvessel.”“Aneurysm?”Gramps interrupted. “That’s for old people. Aaronwas

justaboy.”“I’mpositiveitwasacongenitaldefect,somethinghewasbornwith,”

Dr.Lowensteinexplained.“Idon’tunderstandwhatananeurysmis,”Joshtoldthedoctor.It’sa

mistake,hismindshouted.Aterriblemistake.“Pictureagardenhosewithwater rushing through it.Now, imagine

there’s a bulge in the hose. Themore pressure applied by the rushingwater,theweakerthebulgebecomes,untilfinallyitbursts.”“But he was so healthy. He was a football player, very physical.”

CoachMullerhadcomealongsideofthetrio.

“Hisphysicalconditionhasnothingtodowithit.Theaneurysmwasatimebombwaiting togooff.Nothingcouldhavepredicted it.Nothingcouldhavepreventeditfromhappening.I’msorry.”Joshdidn’tbelievethedoctorhadarighttobesorry.Hedidn’tevenknowAaron.“Iwanttoseemybrother,”Joshsaid,standing.“Of course. He’s in Intensive Care.” Dr. Lowenstein nodded to Dr.Wright,whoopenedthedoorandledthewaydownthehallway.They rode up the elevator in silence, got off, and walked downanother longcorridor toadoormarkedNEURO ICU.There,Dr.Lowensteinpaused and turned to Josh and Gramps. “First, let me tell you whatyou’re going to see. There’s a lot of machinery around Aaron. Therespirator isbreathing forhim,aheartmonitor iskeeping trackofhisheartbeat, a catheter is helping to eliminate excessive fluids. He lookslikehe’sasleep.”“Iwanttoseehim,”Joshinsisted.InsidetheICU,Joshwasawareofnursesandadeskareawithbeepingmonitors.Hekepthiseyesstraightahead,notwantingtoestablisheyecontact with anyone. He didn’t want to be in the room with thesepeople.HewantedtotakehisbrotherhometoGramps’s.Dr.Lowensteinled the way into a small cubicle. There, on a bed, lay Aaron. A tubeprotrudedfromhismouth,heldinplacebycrisscrossedtape.Allaroundhim,machineshissed,beeped,andhummed.Aaron’seyeswereclosed,andhisdark,curlyhairlookedmatted.Hisskinlookedflushed,almostrosy.Joshfeltamomentarysurgeofreliefashe remembered Aaron’s awful gray color on the field. “Can I touchhim?”heasked.“Ofcourse.”Slowly,Joshwalkedtothesideofthebed,wherehereachedoutandtookAaron’shand.Hisfleshfeltwarm,alive.Helookedasifanyminutehemightawake,situp,andaskwhatallthefusswasabout.Thedoctorsweremistaken,Joshthought.Aaroncouldn’tpossiblybedead.Gramps shuffled over and stroked Aaron’s forehead. “Doesn’t seempossible,doesit?”hemumbled.Josh turned toward thedoctor. “Howcanyoube sure?Howdoyou

knowhe’sreallydead?”Ahardknotoffearhadriseninsidehim.“Whatproofhaveyougot?Wecan’tjusttakeyourword,youknow.”Dr. Lowenstein shook his head. His expression was somber, yetcompassionate. “What you’re seeing is an illusion of aliveness. Believeme,medicinehassomehighlyaccuratecriteriafordeterminingdeath.”Hecountedoffonhisfingers.“Yourbrotherhasnoresponsetoexternalstimuli,noreflexactivity—most important,noupperbrainactivity.Hehasnobrainstemorautomaticreflexes,meaninghispupilsdon’treacttolight,hehasnogagorcoughreflex.“When I was called in, I ordered an EEG to measure higher brainactivity.Aaronwasaflatline.IalsoorderedanarterialbloodflowXray.That,too,confirmedthathehadnobrainactivity.”Witheveryword,Joshfeltasifnailswerebeingdrivenintohisheart.Aaronlookedalive,buteverytest,everywonderofmoderntechnologysaidotherwise.“Ican’tbelieveit,”hesaid,hisvoicecracking.“I’ve lived too long,”Gramps said. “Iwish I could tradeplaceswithhim.”Foramoment,Joshwishedthesamethingforhimself.Aaronshouldbetheonetolive.Hehadsuchpotential,alifetimeofplansanddreams.JoshrememberedAaron’s tellinghim,“I’mgladI’mplaying football incollege. It’s my ticket for an education, but I’m no jock. I want theeducation. Iwant todosomethingwithmy life—besomething. Idon’twanttowastemyselfthewayPophas.”“IthinkIneedtositdown.”Gramps’svoicejarredJosh.“There’saroomacrossthehall.Wecansit inthere,”Dr.Lowensteinsuggested.“I’llhavesomecoffeebroughtin…andthere’ssomeonewhowantstotalktoyou,aMrs.Gillespe.”Joshdidn’twanttotalktoanyone.HewantedtostaywithAaron,buthealsoknewhisgrandfatherneededattention.Thesmallroomlookedalmosthomey,withasofaandeasychairs.Atablewascenteredbetweenthefurniture.Whenthedooropened,Joshlookeduptoseeaprettywomanwithshort,wispybrownhair.Shewascarrying a tray filled with sodas and coffee. “I’m Bette Gillespe,” shesaid.“I’mfromtheMichiganDonorServices.”

Shehanded Josh a cold drinkwhich Josh drank.Hehadn’t realizedhow thirstyhe’dbecome.The cold soda revivedhim. “Thankyou,”hesaid.Dr.Lowensteinsatacrossfromhim,nexttothewoman,andGramps

saggedagainstthesofabesideJosh.CoachMullerhadremainedout inthehalltomakephonecalls.JoshstudiedGramps’shands.Theylookedgnarledandleathery,andtheyweretrembling.Joshfoughtbacktears,determinednottobreakdowninfrontofthesestrangers.Heknewtheyweretryingtobekind.Numbnesscarriedhimalong.Aslongashecouldholdhisfeelingsincheck,heknewhecouldmakeit.“Dr.LowensteinhasexplainedAaron’sconditiontoyou,”Bettestated.

When Josh nodded, she asked, “You understand what’s happened toAaron?”“He’sgone,”Joshrepliedflatly.“He’snevercomingback.”“I’m so sorry,” she said. “There’sno rhymeor reason toanyof this.

Frankly,you’llbesortingitoutfortherestofyourlife.Yet,eventhoughyou’rehurting rightnow, Iwant tooffer youanoption thatmayhelpbringsomethingpositiveoutofthistragedy.”“Anoption?”“DidAaroneverdiscussorgandonationwithyou?”It dawned on Josh thenwhat thismeetingwas really all about. He

recoiled.“Isthatwhatyouwant?YouwantustogiveAaron’sinsidestomedicalscience?”“Not to medical science,” Mrs. Gillespe said quickly. “To suffering,

dyingpeople.Peoplewhohavenootherhopetoliveexceptthroughthegenerosity of grieving families such as yours. The gift of an organ fortransplantation—of Aaron’s organs—can turn a sick, hopeless personintoafunctioning,vitalhumanbeingagain.”“What’sshesaying?”Grampsasked,leaningforward.“Shewantsusto

sayit’sallrighttocutAaronup?”“There will be no disfigurement,” Mrs. Gillespe assured them. “Top

surgeons remove only the organs you wish to donate, and they leaveyourlovedonelookingperfectlynormal.”Josh was listening to his grandfather’s objections, but he was also

recallingthetimewhenheandAaronhadbeenwatchingsomeTVshowaboutagirlhooked to life-supportmachineryanda familydemandingthatthemachinesbeturnedoff.Aaronhadsaid,“Man,I’dneverwanttobekeptalivethatway.IfIgofirst,littlebro,youmakesureIdon’tliearoundlikesomevegetable.Andbeforeyouputmeintheground,passaroundmybestparts.”Hehadlaughed,madeaface,andadded,“LikeFrankenstein,I’llrisefromthedead.”Guiltily,Joshglanceddownatthefloor.HeknewwhatAaronwouldhave wanted. Still, hearing Gramps’s protestations made Josh pause.Grampswassaying,“Wecan’taffordnofancysurgeons.”“YouwouldpaynothingtodonateAaron’sorgansfortransplantation.You’dpayonlyforthecarehe’shadthusfar.”Dr.Lowensteinsaid,“BecauseAaronhadheart-chestmassagefromthemomenthisaneurysmoccurred,hisbloodwaskeptflowing.Thatmeanshis organs are in excellent condition. Plus, hewas young andhealthy.ManypeoplecouldbenefitfromyourgiftofAaron.”“Whowouldgethisorgans?Wouldweknow?”Joshasked.“Probablynot,”Mrs.Gillespesaid,“althoughthetrendtokeepdonorsand recipients apart is changing. Research is finding that often suchknowledgeisbeneficialtobothparties.Ifthefamilyofadonorevergetstomeetsomeonewho’sreceivedalovedone’sorgan,theyfeelblessed.“Forthemostpart,however,donorsandtheirfamiliesdon’tknowtherecipients. The organs are matched by computer with people on awaiting list. Every effort is made to place an organ in the immediatearea,atleastwithinthestate.Butdonorandrecipientmustbematchedbymedicalurgency,bloodtype,timeonthewaitinglist—”Shepaused.“Allthosefactorshavetobeconsidered.”“Youdidn’t just letAarondiesoyoucouldgethisorgans,didyou?”Grampsblurtedout.Joshcouldseehowconfusedandupsethe’dgotten.Joshreachedoverandtookhisarm.“Takeiteasy,Gramps.”

Five

“I’M NOT INVOLVED with the organ transplant program,” Dr. Lowensteinexplained calmly. “I calledMrs. Gillespe because I’m a physicianwhostrongly believes in organ transplantation, and the trauma aroundAaron’sdeathmakeshimanidealcandidate.”“The decision belongs to the family,” Mrs. Gillespe said. “Please

considerlettingsomethingpositivecomeoutofthisterribletragedy.ForAaron’ssake,foryours,forallthepeoplehecanhelpwithagiftoflife.”“We should call your mother,” Gramps said slowly to Josh. Then,

turningtotheothers,heexplained,“Mydaughter…Aaron’sherson.”“No.”Joshshookhisheadfirmly.“You’reourlegalguardian,Gramps.

Sheprobablywouldn’tbesoberenoughtodecidewhattodo,anyway.”He looked over at Mrs. Gillespe. “How much time do we have todecide?”“Unfortunately, time is our enemy. Once brain death occurs,

deteriorationof abodyand itsvitalorgans is rapid.ThemachinesarekeepingAarongoingfornow,butweshouldactquickly.”Josh felt torn,as ifhewere twopeople—asixteen-year-oldboywho

waslosinghisbrother,andagrownmanwhowasbeingaskedtomakeadecisionnooneshouldhavetomake.Helookedtohisgrandfather.“It’suptous,Gramps.Youandme.Wehavetodecide.”Theoldmannodded.“Isupposeitis.Ididn’teverexpectittocometo

somethinglikethiswhenIsaidI’dberesponsibleforyouandAaron. IwishGranwashere.”Hisvoicesoundedraspy.“She’dknowwhattodo.You’ve knownAaron all your life, Josh. I’ve just really come to know

himrecently.Doyouknowwhathewouldhavewantedustodo?”Joshcoveredhiseyes.Thelightintheroomseemedtoobright,anditwasgivinghimaheadache.Aaron,whatshouldIdo?hepleadedsilently.Helpme.Aaronhadalwaysbeenthereforhim,shieldinghim,standingup forhimwhen their fatherhad comehomedrunkandmean. IthadbeenAaronwhowasalwaysinthestandscheeringforhimwhenherantrack.Aaron,who’dbeenhis true family. But now,Aaronwas leavinghimalonewiththisheavydecision.JoshloweredhishandandlookeddirectlyatGramps.“Hewouldhavewanted us to donate his organs, because that’s the kind of person hewas.Heputothersfirst.”Grampshunchedhisshoulders,andJoshsawateartrickledowntheoldman’s face.Afraidhe’dcomeungluedhimself,Joshstoodabruptly.“CanIseeAaronagain?”“Certainly.Takeyourtime.Iknowhowdifficultitistosaygood-bye.”Atthedoor,Joshpaused.“Whenwillyoustart…youknow…takingouthisorgans?”“We’ll put the call out immediately with all Aaron’s vital statistics.Whenadonormatchisfound,atransplantteamwillbedispatchedhere.We’lltakehimupstairsandbeginpreppinghimfororganharvestingthisevening.”Organ harvesting. To Josh, the phrase sounded like some kind ofprimitive farming ritual. “I’m not sure Iwant everyone to knowwhatwe’vedecided.”“Youcandecidewhethertotellothersornot.”“We’llwanttohaveafuneral,”Grampssaid.“Sowecansayapropergood-bye.”“Don’tworry—thehospitaland theuniversitywillworkwithyou tomakearrangements,”Mrs.Gillespesaid.“Thankyousoverymuch.Whatyou’vedecidedtodotodaywillhelpmanypeople.”JoshwalkedoutoftheroomandbacktoNeuroICU.Onceinsidethecubicle, he bent over his brother’s body. Mesmerized, he watchedAaron’schestriseandfallinperfectcadencewiththerespirator.Onthescreenof themonitor,he studied the raggedgreen lineas itmoved in

perfect harmonywith themachine.Tentatively, heplaced thepalmofhis hand on Aaron’s chest. Through the thin material of the hospitalgown,Joshcouldfeelthethumpingofhisbrother’sheart.The sensation was supposed to mean life. In Aaron’s case, it meantonlyanimitationoflife.Aaron’sbodymayhavebeenstretchedoutonthebed,buthisspirit,hisconsciousness,wasfarremovedfromthistimeandplace.“Hey,bro,”Joshwhispered,usingthetermAaronhadoftenusedforJosh.“Iguessthisisit.Itriedtodotherightthingbyyouwiththis donation business, because I was pretty sure it’s what youwouldhavewanted.”Josh kept his hand on Aaron’s chest, afraid to break off this finalconnection.“Idon’tknowwhenI’llseeyouagain,butIwill,”headded.His voice broke, and despite all his efforts to remain in control, sobscamequickly,silently.Allatonce, thewallsof theroomseemedtobemoving inonhim, and Joshknewhehad to get outside into the coldautumnair.Hehadtoleavethisroomofdeath,leavethisbody,whichlooked likehisbrother in formand substance,but reallywasnomorethananelaboratemannequin.Joshbent,kissedAaron’sforehead,andfledtheroom.

“Katie! Katie, wake up! The beeper’s gone off.” Her father’s urgentvoicesoundedasifitwerecomingfromalongwayoff.Katiestruggledtowardit,likeaswimmerexhaustedlytreadingwater.Her eyes blinked open as she took long gulps of pure oxygen. “Mybeeper?”shemumbled.“They’ve found you a heart, honey, and the doctors want us at thehospitalimmediately.”Her parents bundled her up and switched her to a portable oxygentank.Shecarrieditinherlap,evenaftertheyarrivedatthehospitalandplacedherinawheelchair.Timeblurredasshepassedfromprocedureto procedure, area to area. In order to keep her mind off the ordealawaitingher,shefocusedonsmallthings—thefeelofhermother’shandonhers,thechangingofherclothestohospitalissue,thesmilesofstaff,nurses, doctors, technicians, and orderlies. She half heard theirexplanationsofpreparationforhersurgery.Shefeltthepricksofneedles

and the excruciating pain of the first injection of immune-suppressantdrugs in her thigh muscle. She knew that she’d be taking immune-suppressantmedicationsfortherestofherlifeoncehernewheartwasinplace.Fortunately,mostcameinpillform.At one point, she heard her father ask Dr. Jacoby, the transplant

surgeon,“Who’sthedonor?”Thedoctoranswered, “Idon’tknow.Only thathewasayoungman

who died suddenly and unexpectedly. His organs were in outstandingcondition.Katie’sgettinghisheart,aboyinDetroit isgettinghis liver,andhiskidneysareonthewaytoChicagoandIndiana.”Katietunedouttheconversation.Shedidn’twanttoknow…couldn’t

bear the idea that someone’sbodypartswerebeing flownallover thecountry,evenifitwastosaveliveslikehers.Yet,shewasgrateful,too.Unspeakablygrateful.Orderliesrolledheronastretcherdownthehalltowardtheoperating

rooms. Her parents walked on either side. Her mother’s face lookedpasty,andalthoughKatiewasgroggy fromherpreopmedications, shewasconcernedforhermom.Herdadlookedlesspale,butshecouldtellbytheicinessofhisfingersastheygrippedhersthathewasn’thandlingwhatwashappeningwithease.AtthedoorofoneoftheORs,thestretcherstopped.“Thisisasfaras

your family can go, Katie,” Dr. Jacoby said. “There’s a waiting roomdownthehallforthem.”“Howlong?”hermotherasked.“Thesurgerytakesaroundfourhours.”Katiesawherdadsliphisarmaroundhiswife’sshoulders.“We’llbe

waiting.”They bent over Katie. “I’ll be praying for you, baby,” her mother

whispered.Katieheardaquiverinhervoice.“I love you both so much,” Katie told them. Her tongue felt thick,

difficulttomove.“You’re awinner, Katie,” her father said. “You’ve been awinner all

your life,and this timeyou’re running theultimaterace.You’llwin it,too.”

Katiewascertainshesawtearsinhiseyes.“Thanks,Daddy.”Sheheldup her fingers in a V-for-victory sign. “One more thing,” Katiewhispered. “If something goes wrong in there, please do somethingspecialwithmyWishmoney.”“You’ll be spending that money yourself,” her dad insisted. “Everypennyofit.”Katiewantedtotellherparentsahundredotherthings,butherbrainfeltfuzzy,anditwasgrowinghardertothinkstraight,muchlessputherthoughtsintowords.ShewasafraidthatonceshewasrolledinsidetheOR,she’dneverseethemagain.ThedoortotheORswungopen,andanursedressedingreenscrubsandamasksaid,“We’reready.”Katie clutched hermother’s hand. She wanted to scream, “I’m not.”She heard her mother say, “See you in a few hours. We love you somuch.”Katie was shuttled into the OR, helplessly watching her parents’belovedfacesuntilthedoorswungshut,closingthemout.Theoperatingroomwas sobright, ithurthereyes.Shecaughtglimpsesofmachinesand stainless steel tables. Shewas lifted onto a cold table. Dr. Jacobyleanedoverher.“We’regoingtogiveyouabrandnewheart,Katie,”hesaid throughhismask.“Iknowthis is scary foryou,butmyteamandI’vedonethisoperationmanytimesbefore,andwe’rereallyprettydarngoodatit.“AsI’veexplained,we’llputyoutosleep,coolyourbodytemperature,and put you on the heart-lung machine.” He gestured toward a largepieceofgray-and-bluemachinery.“ThenI’lltakeouttheoldandputinthenew.”“Whenyouwakeup,you’llbeintherecoveryroom.You’llhavetubescomingoutofyourchestandoutofyourmouth.Youwon’tbeabletotalkuntilweremovethebreathingtube,whichshouldbeondaytwoofyour recovery. Don’t be alarmed. The tubes will be pulled as soon asyou’restabilized.”Hiseyescrinkledabovehismask.“You’llbe in isolation for the firstfewdays—there are lots of nasty germs floating around, andwedon’twantyoutocatchanyofthem.You’llbeabletoseeyourparentsand,ofcourse,me.”Hesmiledagain.“You’regoingtodojustfine,Katie.”

Heart-lung machines, tubes, isolation—the terms swirled around inherhead. “Howwill I know if I’malive?”Katieasked, ina fitofdarkhumor.He laughed.“You’ll feelalive.At first,you’ll feelas ifa freight train

ranoveryoubutyou’llhaveanimmediateawarenessthatyou’rebetter.Your fingernails will turn pink again, and you won’t need oxygen inordertobreathe.It’slikefallinginlove,Katie—you’lljustknow.”Shegazedupathim.“Thenlet’sgetmoving.”“Hi. I’mMax, your anesthesiologist. I’m slipping some ‘happy juice’

intoyourIV,thenI’llputthislittlerubbermaskoveryourface.Breathedeepandtrytocounttoten.Ibetyouwon’tmakeittofour.”Katie could feel a numbness stealing over her body from the IV

drippingintoherhand.Shesuddenlyfeltlight,weightless,asifshewerefloating right off the table. “See you in recovery, Katie,” Max said.“Sweetdreams.”In recovery,Katie thought silently, as she felt the rubbermaskbeing

placedoverhermouthandnose.Orinheaven.

Six

KATIEDRIFTEDONaluxuriousseaofwarmthlikeapieceofwoodcoastingonocean waves. Voices came and went; she could hear them, but shecouldn’tmakeoutwhattheyweresaying.Shedidn’tcare.Thewaterfeltsoblissful,sopeaceful,sheneverwantedtoleaveit.A bright light came toward her, hovering above her face as she lay

stretchedout in thewater.The lightbegan to takeona form. It shimmeredanddissolvedintoabeingofincrediblebeauty.“Whoareyou?”Katieasked.“I’mJWC,”thebeingsaid.“Youare?”Katiefeltasurgeofdelight.“Yougavemethemoney!”“Itwasnothing.Itwasforyourheart.”“Ihaven’tgotaheart.”“Iknow.You’reliketheTinManfromTheWizardofOz—noheart.”“TheWizardgavehimaheart.”Thebeautifulcreaturelaughed.“Notatall.Igavehimaheart.”“Youdid?Butinthemovie—”“Whoops!Gottogo.”Katie tried to touch the beautiful being, but her arms felt pinned. “No.

Don’tleaveme!”Katiecried.“Can’tstay.Ihavemoneytogiveaway.Heartstobuy.”KatiewatchedthephantomJWCrecedeandfeltanoverwhelmingsenseof

panic.“Don’tgo!Please!”The lightmoved away fromher and started growing brighter. Katie

tried to close her eyes, because suddenly the light was so bright, itburnedhereyeballs.Therewasaterriblecrushingsensationinherchest.Shegasped,struggledtobreathe,reachedoutherhandtowardthelight,thewayadrowningpersongrabsforalifeline.“…wakeup,Katie.It’sallover,littlegirl.Comeon,wakeupandgiveMaxasmile.”Katieopenedhereyes.Shesawtheanesthesiologist’sface.Shetriedtospeak,butatubedownherthroatpreventedher.“It’sokay,sweetheart,”Maxsaid.“I’monlygivingyouyourwake-upcall. You came through with flying colors, Katie. Your new heart’s inplaceandworkingfine.”Shesqueezedhereyesshut,afraidshewashavinganotherdream.Herchestfeltheavy,asifleadweightswerepressingagainstit.Sheheardaconstantblip-blipsoundfromanearbymachine.Maxcontinuedtalking.“You’llhavelotsofnurseswatchingoveryou—little guardian angels.We’llmove you down to ICU in a few hours.Meanwhile,I’vegottwoveryanxiousparentsonmyhands.Thinkyou’reuptoseeingthemforafewminutes?”Katie opened her eyes. She wanted to nod, but wasn’t positive shecouldpulloffthemovement.“I’llbringthemin,”Maxsaid.Hestraightenedup,thenpaused.“First,let me show you something.” He picked up her hand, the one notattachedtoanIV,andhelditinfrontofherface.“Whatdoyousee?”heasked.Katieblinked,attemptingtofocus.Thelightfromoverherbedshoneclearly on her hand.Withwonder, she saw that her fingertipswere ahealthy,rosyshadeofglowingpink.

Josh felt as if thewholeworld had turned upside down. The entireUniversity ofMichigan football team, the coaches, staffmembers, andsome faculty were standing outside in the grayness of the Septemberafternoonaroundhisbrother’scoffin.Theplayersshouldhavebeenonafootball field, not here in a cemetery. Some of the boys were cryingopenly,whichjarredJosh.Herewerethesebig,strappingmountainsof

muscleandsinew,weepinglikebabies.Hethoughtitstrange.He himself was red-eyed from unshed tears. He stood beside hisgrandfather, holding the old man’s arm, shoring him up. Josh staredhelplessly at the bronze-color coffin, at themantel of maize and bluemums and carnations draped across it. Aaronwas dead.Gone forever.Josh’smindcouldscarcelygrasptheenormousnessofsuchatimespan.Forever.Before the funeral, CoachMuller had told Josh and Gramps, “Don’tworryaboutthecostofthis.Theuniversitywillpaythetab.Aaronwasonathleticscholarship,andhewasinsured.We’llseetoitthathehasafinefuneral.”Joshhadwanted toshout,Whocares?He’dwanted tohit somethingwith his fists. He’d wanted to throw a chair through the plate-glasswindowofthefuneralhome.Buthe’ddonenothing,becausethefuneralritualwasimportanttohisgrandfather.“Flowers are nice,” he heard Gramps mutter. “Gran had real niceflowers at her funeral, too. Aaron’swith her now—do you know that,Josh?Thetwoofthemaretogether.”Joshhad to bite back an angry retort.Granwas in the ground, andAaronwas inacoffin soon togo in theground.Theywerebothdead.“Sure,Gramps.Whateveryousay.”After the ceremony, they all went to his grandfather’s small house,whereneighborshadbroughtinfood.Joshmovedlikeazombiethroughtheclustersofmourners.Ashepassedby,oneoftheplayersreachedoutandtookhisarm.“Rememberme?”heasked.“You’reDion.OneofAaron’sroommates.”“I’mreallysorry,man.Yourbrotherwasagoodguy.”“Thanks.”“Didyourfolkscome?”Foramoment,Joshdidn’tknowhowtorespond.“Aaronleveledwithmeaboutthem,”Dionsaid.“’Causemyoldman’sadrunk,too.”Joshclenchedhisfists,tryingnottofeelbitterashesaid,“No.They

couldn’tmakeit.Pop’sinjailfordrivingundertheinfluenceofhisusualbooze,andMom’sinthehospital.Hebeatherupprettybadbeforethecopspickedhimup.”“Thatstinks,man.”“Lifestinks,”Joshsaid,thenlefttheroom.It seemed likehoursbefore everybody left. Josh stayed inhis room,

lyingonhisbed,staringupattheceilinguntilitwasdark.Frombelow,heheardthewomanfromnextdoordirectingothersaboutcleaningup.He heard Gramps climb the creaking stairs and rap softly on thebedroomdoor.Hewishedtheoldmanwouldgoaway.Hedidn’twanttotalktoanyone.Grampscameinside,uninvited,andloweredhimselfslowlytotheside

ofJosh’sbed.“Youallright?”heasked.“Sure.Justfine.”Gramps placed his wrinkled hand on Josh’s shoulder. “I know how

you’rehurting,boy.I’vebeendownthisroadbefore.”Josh wanted to say, No one knows how bad I hurt, but he didn’t.

Grampssaid,“WhenGrandied,Iwantedtocrawlintothatcasketwithher.Ididn’tfigurethatIcouldmakeitwithouther.We’dbeenmarriedforty-fiveyears,youknow.”Goaway,Joshpleadedsilently.“ButIhavemadeitforaboutsevenyearsnow.Theyhaven’tbeeneasy

years…especiallythefirstone,butI’vemadeit.Andyouwill,too.Thehurtgoesaway—therawhurt,theangryhurt.”Joshfelthisthroatconstrict.“Youknow, therewas a spellwhen Iwasdownrightmadather for

dying on me.” Josh’s gaze darted to Gramps’s face. “That’s right,”Grampsaffirmed,seeingthelook.“Justplainmad.Shehadnorighttogooffandleavemetomuddlethroughtherestofmylifealone.Norightatall.”“WhatamIgoingtodo?”Josh’svoicewasbarelyawhisper.“Hewas

myonlybrother.”“SamethingIdid.You’regoingtogoonliving.”Grampsspokeslowly,

asifhuntingforthewords.“You’vegotalotoflivingaheadofyou,son.AlotthatAaronwouldhavewantedyoutodo.Youdon’thavetostartback to school right away if you don’twant, but you can’t stop goingaltogether,either.”“Idon’tcareaboutschool.”“Andtrack?”“Idon’tcareaboutthatanymore.”“Youcare,”Grampssaid.“Maybenotrightthismoment,butyoucare.Just thewayAaroncaredabout football.Nothing’sgoing tobringhimback,nothing’sgoingtostoptheachingyoufeel—excepttime.Oneday,theachewillbeduller.Don’tstaymadattheworld,oratGod,fortherestofyourlife.You’llonlyeatyourselfawayfromtheinsideout.”Gramps’swords fellonJosh likecoldrainwater.Thewoundwastoonew, too fresh. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t hate heaven and earth.WhatkindofauniversewasitwhensomeonelikeAarongotleveledintheprimeofhis life?WhathadAaroneverdonetodeserveanartery’sgoing haywire in his brain? “Aaron was only twenty years old,” Joshsaid.“Nothingaboutwhat’shappenedmakesanysense.”“It never will,” Gramps said. “You’ll make yourself crazy trying tofigureitout.Lifehappens—goodandbad.Folksdon’talwaysgetwhatthey deserve, either way. I can tell you this, though—a person nevergrowsdeepunlesshe’sbeenthroughsuffering.Seemsstrangethatpainandsufferingbecomethesoilofstrengthandcourage,butthat’sthewayitworks.”JoshwantedtoshoutthatheandAaronbothhadseentheirshareofsuffering,andthatwhatwashappeningnowseemedpunitiveandcruel.“Theoneswhoareleftbehindhavetopickupthepiecesandgoon,because that’s just what the living do. We go on living,” Grampscontinued.“Iknowyouwon’tbelieveme,butoneday,you’llbehappyagain. That’s one of the hardest things to catch hold of when you’rehurtingrealbad.Justthewaybadthingshappen,goodthingshappen,too.Makealifeforyourself…Aaronwouldhavewantedyouto.”Joshturnedtowardthewall,sayingnothing.The oldman patted Josh’s shoulder. “I’m going to turn in. I wish I

couldhelpyoumore,son.IwishIcouldstopyourhurting.”Gramps shuffledoutof the room,andJosh staredat theblankwall.

He felt as if his insideswere on fire.He clutchedhis arms to himself,trying to hold back the storm of emotions building within him. He’dgivenawayAaron’sheart,andnowhefeltasiftherewereavoidinsidehis own chest. “Please… please, Aaron, don’t leaveme. Please.” ThewordspouredoutofJoshlikealitany.ReasontoldhimthatAaronwasgoneandnoamountofchantingwouldchangeit.Still,hecouldn’tstemtheflowofwordsthatbegantominglewithlarge,rackingsobsashelayinthedark.

Seven

WHENTHEYPULLEDoutthebreathingtubeaftersurgeryandKatiecouldtalkagain, she felt euphoric. Her voice sounded hoarse, and her throatached, but the sense of relief she felt was overwhelming. “I made it,Mom,Dad,”shetoldherparentsaftershe’dbeenmovedfromrecoveryintoisolation.“I told you, you’re awinner,” her dad said.All she could see of his

facewerehiseyesandeyebrowsabovehismask.Her mother couldn’t stop touching her. “You’re beautiful, Katie,

beautiful.Youlooksohealthy.”Katiedidn’thave thecourage to look inamirror,butsheknewthat

shewasbetter.Everybeatoftheheartnowlyinginherchestsentfresh,oxygenatedbloodpouringthroughher.Also,withoutbeingtetheredtoanoxygentank,shefeltanincrediblesenseoffreedom,eventhoughallDr.Jacobywouldletherdowassitupontheedgeofthebed.“So soon?”hermother asked anxiouslywhenDr. Jacoby announced

hisintentionsonKatie’sseconddayoutofsurgery.“We’vefoundthatgettingpatientsupasquicklyaspossibleistotheir

benefit,”thedoctorsaid.“Wedon’twantpneumoniatodevelop.”He and the nurses helpedKatie sit upright amid the tangle of tubes

andwires.Shewaswoozy,andherchestfeltasifithadbeenstruckbyasledgehammer.“We’lltakethetubesouttomorrow,andyoucantakeastrollaround

theroom,”hepromised.“Bytheendoftheweek,youshouldbeoutofisolationandinaprivateroom.”

True tohisword, fourdays later,Dr. Jacobygaveorders forKatie’schest tubes to be pulled. She was completely unhooked from all themachines,theIVs,andthemonitors,andmovedintoaspacious,sunnyroom.“When can I go home? When can I go back to school?” she askedwhenDr.Jacobyenteredherroomforrounds.“Youdo feel good, don’t you?”Thedoctor laughed, thenglanced atherparents.“Wewon’tbeabletokeepthisonedown,willwe?”Herfathershrugged.“Inevercould.”Dr.Jacoby’sexpressiongrewserious.“Katie,Idon’twantyoutothinkyou’recompletelyoutofthewoodsyet.”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Firstofall,you’vehadmajorsurgery.Thatinitselfisreasonenoughtotakethingsslowly.Second,you’vegotanewheart.Now,asmuchasyour body needs it to function, as far as your immune system’sconcerned,thisheartisaforeignobject.”“I thought that’s why I’m taking pills and shots—to turn off myimmunesystem.”“That’sright,butexpecttogothroughanepisodeofrejection.We’vedoneenoughofthesetransplantstoknowthatmostrecipientsdo.We’llkeep doing tests and giving you the suppressant drugs, but it’ll takeawhileforyourbodytoadjust.”The thought that her ownbodymight force a shutdownof her newheartmadeKatiepanic.Anotherheartmightnotcomealongifthisonewasrejected.“I’lldoexactlywhatyoutellme,”Katiedeclared.“Iwantthishearttowork.”Dr. Jacoby patted her shoulder. “You and the heart are both youngandhealthy.Wehaveeveryreasontobelievethatyou’lldojust fine. Ionlywanttoalertyouthatitmaynotallbesmoothsailing.”Whenhehadgone,Katieaskedherparents,“YouthinkI’llbeallright,don’tyou?”“Absolutely,”herdadreplied.Hermotherdidn’tlookasconfident,yetshenoddedinagreement.

“I had a dream during the operation,” Katie said, to change thesubject. The notion of rejection was too frightening to dwell on rightthen.“IdreamedImetJWC.She toldmeshe’dhelped theTinMan inTheWizardofOzfindanewheartandthattheWishmoneyhadboughtmynewone.”“So,yourdreamrevealedthatJWCisagirl,”herfatherteased.“That’smorethanIcouldfindout.Butasforthemoney’sbuyingtheheart,youknow that could never happen. Donors and organs have to bespecificallymatched.”“Iknow,”Katiesaid.“Itwasjustsuchacrazydream,that’sall.”“Itwasonlyadream,”hermothersaid.“I’vewonderedaboutthedonor.Doyouknowanythingaboutwhoitwas?”“They’vetoldusvery little.Why,wedon’tevenknowwherehewasfrom,”herdadanswered.“Iwasthinkingaboutthedonor’sfamily…”“Don’t,”hermothersaidquickly.“Justthinkaboutgettingwell.”Katiewantedtotalkaboutitwithsomeone.Shewantedtotrytodealwith an overwhelming tide of emotions that kept sneaking up on her.Whowasherdonor?Howwashisorherfamilydealingwiththeirloss?Their losswashergain.Someonehaddied inorder togiveher life. Ifonlyshecouldtell them“Thankyou.”Thephrasesoundedinadequate.MaybeshecoulddosomethingwonderfulforthemwithherWishmoneyifsheeverdiscoveredtheiridentity.“You look as if you’re a million miles away,” her mother said,interruptingKatie’sjumbledthoughts.She looked so anxious that Katie decided not to say anything aboutwhatshe’dbeenthinking.“HaveyouheardfromMelody?”sheasked.“Italktoheronceaday,”hermomsaid.“She’sveryeagertotalktoyou.”“NowthatI’minaroom,don’tyouthinkshecouldcomeseeme?”“Oh,no.It’stoosoon,”hermotherblurtedout.“Toosoon?”

“What your mom means is that we don’t want you exposedunnecessarilytoanygerms,”herfathersaidsmoothly.Katieglancedattheir faces.“That’swhyI’mtakingthecyclosporine,

isn’tit?Andthesteroids.”Athoughtmadeherpause.“Doyouthinkthatmybeingonsteroidswillkeepmefromrunninginhighschooltrack?Imean,steroidsareillegal,butit’snotmyfaultIhavetotakethem.”“Running?” her mother gasped, looking horrified. “Katie, you can’t

thinkaboutrunning.”Katieblinked.“Whynot?Mynewheartisfine,andsoamI.Itoldyou

beforetheoperationthatIplannedtorunagain.”“Wedon’t need to discuss this now,” her father interrupted. “You’re

barelyoutofsurgery.Doasyourdoctorsays,honey.Rest, takeiteasyforawhile.”Katiewantedtotellthemthatshe’dspentthelastfourmonthsofher

liferesting.Shefeltlikeamilliondollars,comparedwithhowshe’dfeltbeforetheoperation,wheneverybreathhadhurt,everymovementhadlefthergasping.“I’lltalktoDr.Jacobyaboutit,”Katiesaid,attemptingto erase the panicked expression on her mother’s face. “Will that beokay?”“Ofcourse.”Hermomnoddedvigorously,yetKatiecouldtellshewas

onlyhumoringher.That night, she called Melody on the phone. The moment she said

hello,Melodyburstintotears.“Ican’tbelieveit’syou.”“I got anewheart, not anewpersonality,”Katie joked, but shedid

wonderifthenewheartmightmakeherdifferentsomehow.“I couldn’t believe it,”Melody said. “Theotherday, I camebyyour

houseafterschool,thewayIalwaysdo,andnobodywasthere.Turnedoutyou’dgonetothehospitalatfouro’clockthatmorningtogetahearttransplant! I freaked out. I mean, it was all over, and I hadn’t evenknown you’d gone! Of course, I’ve been calling your mom daily, andyourdaddidoneofhis famouscolumnsaboutyouroperationandall,butIfeltsocutofffromyou.”“Daddidanotherstoryaboutme?”“Don’t soundsoannoyed. Itwasreallygood. Icryevery time I read

it.”“Iwishhewouldn’tdothat,”Katiesaid.“But he should,” Melody countered. “You’re a medical marvel, andyour story is so inspiring. I wish everybody could read it.” Melodysniffed.“Areyousureyou’reallright?”“I’mfine,”Katiereplied,nottrulysurehowshewas.“AssoonasIcangetmydoctorandmyparentstoagree,pleasecomeseeme.”“Iwill.Ican’twait.I’vemissedyousomuch,Katie.”Melodywasstillcryingwhentheyhungup.Katie chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. She hadn’t realized howprofoundlyhertransplantwasgoingtoaffecteveryone.Herparents,herfriends—everybody seemed tobe struggling to come to termswith it.Didn’ttheyrealizethatshewastheonewho’dgonethroughit?Shewishedherfatherhadn’twrittenaboutit.Itwasherprivatelife.She didn’t want people to go around talking about her as though shewere somekindofwonder.She justwanted togetwell,gohome,andstartlivinganormallife.Shehadn’taskedtobecomeamedicalmarvel.Withoutwarning,Katie started to cry.Whyhad thishappened toher?Why?

Josh’s hands were trembling, and his heart pounded against his ribcage.Hefeltasifhe’drunamarathon.Hewethislipsandstareddownagain at the newspaper spread out on the kitchen table. Quickly, herereadthesportscolumnbyDanielO’Roark.

Howdoesamangoabout thanking science for themiracleof givingKatie life?Thiswasnotasimplesurgerytocorrectaflawedheart.Rather,asurgeon’sskilledhandsgaveourKatieabrand-newheart.

Yet, there’smore than one player in the drama ofmy daughter’s rebirth. Yes, her surgeonwashelpful.Yes,thehospitalwhereshe’sstayingissustainingher.However,theyarebutbitplayersinthisdrama.

Thestorywentontooutlinethedramaticdetailsofthecallthathadcome in the night to announce that a donor—lost in his youth to ahemorrhage in his brain—had been found. It told of the rush to the

hospital,thewaitforthecompletionoftheoperation,daysinrecoveryandICU.Joshdevouredeverydetail.

Therealheroisthenamelessdonor,hisfamily,hisgiftoflife…hisveryheart.Tohelpalovedone,someoneyouknowandcareabout, isonething.Buttohelpastranger,agirlyou’venevermet,whomayhavehadonlydaystolive,istheultimateinhumancompassion.Myregularreadershave followedKatie’s story over the years, from the time shewas born (yes, in typical fatherlypride,Idevotedacolumntothatmiracle,too),tonow,whenshe’sbeenreborn.

Thisisforyou,Katie—mydaughter,mylove.

Andthisisforyou,donor—giveroflife.Becauseofyou,myKatie’salive.

Joshstoppedreading.Moisturehadfilledhiseyes,alongwithasenseofunspeakablejoy.HeknewbeyondashadowofadoubtwhereAaron’sheart lay. It rested within one Katie O’Roark. And he was equallypositive that outside of some impersonalmedical computer system, hewastheonlypersonwhorealizedit.

Eight

“KATIE,AREYOUsureyouwanttodothis?”“Yes,Mom.Pleasehelpme.”Katiewasdeterminedtomakeitintothe

bathroomadjoiningherprivateroomforagood,longlookatherselfinthe mirror. She knew she’d lost weight. She could feel her ribs andcollarbone jutting through thehospital gown shewore.Yet, herhandslookedpuffyandherfacefeltfuller.“Now, you know that the immune-suppressant drugs—the steroids—

aremakingyourface lookrounded,”hermotherwarnedasshehelpedKatieshuffletowardthebathroom.“IknowwhatDr.Jacobytoldme,”Katieinsisted.“Istillwanttosee.”Nervously,Katiepositionedherselfinfrontofthemirror.Hermother

flippedonthelight.Katiestaredatthefaceintheglassandgrimaced.“Ilookawful…likeapumpkinhead.Andmyarmslookliketwosticks.”“Thedoctors call it ‘moonface,’ ”hermotherexplained, stillholding

Katie’sarmforbalance.“Itwillgoawaywhentheyadjustyourcortisonedosage.Andonceyoucomehome,I’llfattenyouupagain.”Katietriedtonotacttoodisappointed,butwistfullyrecalledheronce

trim, athletic body. “I lookweird. Totallyweird.” She tipped her chinandturnedsemi-profile,studyingherreflectionfromdifferentangles.“IfIhadatan,I’dlooklikeamoonpie.”Hermother smiled. “You’re silly. The steroids are supposed to help

wardoffrejection,youknow.So,whatdoesitmatterhowitmakesyoulook?”“Ihopeit’sgonebeforeIreturntoschool.Noonewillknowme.”

“I’msureitwillbe.Areyoureadytogetbackintobed?”Katiegentlytuggedherarmawayfromhermotherandhungontothesink.“Notyet.”Shereachedbehindherneckwithonehandandgaveatugtothestringsholdingherhospitalgowninplace.“Katie,don’tlook.”Hermothergrabbedatthegowntokeepitup.“Ijustwanttosee—”Katie’svoicestoppedmidsentenceasthegownslidoffher shouldersanddown to the floor.Hereyesgrewwidewithhorroras she staredatherself in themirror.She sawa ragged-lookingwound,vividred,heldtogetherbyblacksuturesthatstretchedfromthelowerpartofherneckdownthemiddleofherchest,allthewaytoherabdomen.Sherecoiled,andcried,“MyGod!Lookatme!Whathavetheydone?Whydidyouletthemdothistome?”HermothergraspedKatie’s shoulders and turnedher away from themirror.“Theysavedyourlife,Katie.Therewasnootherway.”Katie’smind reeled. For the first time, she understood exactlywhatthe transplant team had done to her. The doctors had opened up herbody,spreadapartherribcage,andcutoutherheart.Inhermind’seye,she saw a bizarre image of a turkey being prepared for a meal—hollowedout,allitsinnardsremoved.Shesawtheemptycavityrefilledwithbreadstuffing.That’swhat they’ddone—cutheropen,rippedouttheold,stuffedinthenew.Now,theywerepumpingherfullofmedicinesothatallhernewstuffingwouldn’tberejectedandfallout.She wondered about her old heart—the one she’d been born with.What had they donewith the poor, diseased thing?Did they throw itaway,thewayhermothertossedoutturkeygiblets?Shefeltsicktoherstomach.“I’mafreak!I’mgrotesque!”Katiegaped,wide-eyed,atthelongscar.“No,baby,no.Thescarwillfade.Ipromiseyou.Inafewmonths,it’llbeathinwhiteline.”“No one will ever want to touch me. I’ll never be able to wear abathing suit again. I’m hideous, ugly.” Katie was sobbing, unable tocontrolherself.HermotherhastilyretiedthehospitalgownandmanagedtogetKatiebackintobed.“I’mcallingthenurse,”shesaid,pressingthecallbutton.

“You’reoverwrought.It’snotgood.”“Overwrought!Howcanyousay that?Just lookatwhat theydid tome!They sawedmeopen!Theypoked around insideme!They’ve putmebacktogetherwithstaplesandglue.Theyshouldhaveletmedie.”“Don’teversaythat.It’sonlyascar.”Anursecamehurryingintotheroom.Katieburiedherface—heruglymoonface—in her hands andwept. She heard hermom and the nursewhispering, heard the nurse say things like, “typical reaction” and“postoperativedepression.”Katiedidn’t carewhat they called it. She’dseenwith her own eyeswhat a freak she’d become. She felt violated,abused,andruined.Thenurse left, thenreturnedandgaveherashot.Minutes later,hertearssubsidedasadruggedsleepstoleoverher.

“MayIhelpyou?”Joshgazeddownatthehospitalreceptionist,momentarilystumpedbyherquestion.Aroundhim,peoplebustledpasttowardbanksofelevatorsforhospitalvisitinghours.“I…uh…waswonderingwhatroomKatieO’Roarkisin.”Thewoman typed the name on the computer terminal. Josh shovedhishandsintothebackpocketofhisjeansandshiftednervously,tellinghimself, You’re stupid, man. This whole idea is stupid. The receptionistglancedupathim.“She’sinroom906,butshecan’thavevisitors.”“Oh.”Joshfeltkeenlydisappointed.“IstheresomethingelseIcanhelpyouwith?”Josh shook his head. “Does it say when shemight be able to havevisitors?”“No.Sorry.”“Noproblem.”“I can take a message from you and see that it’s delivered to herroom.”Josh stepped backward, suddenly losing his nerve. “That’s all right.I’ll … I’ll just check back in a few days.” He turned before the

receptionist could say anything else and hurried to the front door.Hestoppedlongenoughtocatchhisbreath,calmhispoundingheart,andrethinkhisstrategy.“This was dumb,” he muttered under his breath. He should have

known he wouldn’t get in to see her. Even if he had gotten in, whatwouldhehavesaid?“Hi.Youdon’tknowme,butyou’reusingmybrother’sheart.”Joshshookhishead,tryingtoclearhisthoughts.True, ithadn’tbeensmart forhimtocome,buteversincehe’dread

Mr.O’Roark’scolumnabouthisdaughter’stransplant,hecouldn’tgetitoutofhismind.Hethoughtabout iteverywakinghour,andhadevendreamed about it the night before. He’d dreamed of coming to thehospital, going into a room, and seeing Aaron sitting up in a hospitalbed.Aaronhadgrinnedathim,waved,andsaid,“Hey,bro.Whattookyou

solongtocomeandseeme?”Joshhadsaid,“Ithoughtyouweredead.Ithoughttheytookoutyour

organsandgavethemtodyingpeople.”“Theydid.Butwhatthepeoplewhoreceivedmyorgansdon’tknowis

thatovertime,theyturnintome.”Inthedream,Joshhadfeltsojoyfulthathe’drushedacrosstheroom

andthrownhisarmsaroundhisbrother.He’dawakened,hisfacedampwith tears, alone in his bedroom, in the dark. The feeling of elationslippedaway,andmelancholiawashedoverhim.Thedreamhadbeensoreal,hecouldrecallthefeelofAaron’sbodyweightagainsthim.So,rightafterschool,he’ddriventheoldcarthathe’dinheritedfrom

Aarontothehospital,onlytobetoldthatKatieO’Roarkcouldn’thavevisitors.Joshwalkedouttothecar,gotin,andslumpedagainsttheseat.Hefeltsolonely.“Imissyou,Aaron,”hesaidaloud.Hestaredupatthehospitalbuilding,risingintothesomberOctober

sky. Somewhere on the ninth floor there was a part of Aaron. Hewanted…needed to seeKatie,who shelteredAaron’sheartwithinherbody.Ifonlyhecouldseeher,touchher,itmightbringAaronbacktohim in somesmallway.Witha sigh, Josh rubbedhiseyes, started thecar,anddroveslowlyoutoftheparkinglot.

*

“Yourmothertellsmeyouhadabadday,”Dr.JacobysaidashestoodbesideKatie’sbedthatevening.Shesaidnothing,onlyturnedherbackandhuddleddownunderthecovers.“This kind of reaction isn’t unusual, you know. Your body’s gonethroughabigtransition,andsohaveyouremotions.I’mgoingtosendinthepsychiatristyoumetwhenyouandyourparents talkedaboutyoursuitabilityforthedonorprogram.”“YouthinkI’mcrazy?”Katieasked.“No.Actually,Ithinkyou’readjustingverywell,butyouneedtotalkaboutyourfeelings.Youneedtogetthemoutintheopen.”Heliftedherchinwithhisforefinger.“Katie,you’vegotalongroadaheadofyou,andalottolearnaboutmanagingyourownhealth.Noonecandoitforyou—you’llbecompletelyincharge.”“Incharge,how?”Katieasked.“You’llbetakingimmune-suppressantmedicationsfortherestofyourlife. Theymust be taken at exact prescribed times, and you can’t evermissadose.Notone.”Katieglaredathim.Itsoundedas if theschedulecontrolledher,notviceversa.Theseriousexpressiononhisfacecausedangrywordsaboutthe stifling prospects of her life to die in her throat. He continued,“You’ll learn how to monitor your own vital signs—take yourtemperature and pulse, listen to your heartbeat. You’ll come in everythreemonths for a heart biopsy. You’ll adhere to a strict diet and anexerciseregime.”Exercise.Atlast,he’dsaidsomethingshewantedtohear.“Whatkindofexercise?”“You’llstartslowly,butbuilduptoasmuchasyoucanhandle.”“Beforeallthishappened,Iwasarunner,”shesaidcautiously.“Afteryou’reallhealed,youmaybearunneragain.”Katiefeltasurgeofhope.“That’swhatIwant.”“Tomorrow, I’m having a stationary bicycle put in your room. A

physicaltherapistwillworkwithyouanddesignaprogramofexercisejustforyourneeds.”Dr.Jacobysmiled.“Icantellthatpleasesyou.”Katienodded.“I’dlikethatalot.Ineedtotestthisheartyou’vegiven

me.AndI’vegotsomemoneytospend,”sheadded,thinkingoftheWishfundssittinginthebank.“Youcando itall,Katie,” thedoctor toldherwithagrin. “You just

can’tdoitallatonce.”Sheshothimasidewaysglance.“We’llsee,”shemutteredstubbornly

underherbreath.

Nine

“I WISH ALL my patients were as cooperative as you, Katie,” Barry, thephysical therapist, said with a grin. “Mostly, I get fifty-year-old menwho’veneverdoneanythingmorephysicalthanusetheremotecontrolontheirTVset.Theyaren’ttheleastbitinterestedinexercise.”“Iam,”Katiedeclaredwithdetermination.Actually,everymuscle in

her legswas protesting theworkout on the stationary bicycle, but sheknewfromherathleticexperiencethatthekindofpainshewasfeelingwasgoodpain. “Ihaven’t exercised like this since last spring, before Igotsick,”shetoldBarry.“Itfeelsprettygoodtosweat.”Helaughed.“Don’toverdoit,orthedocwillhavemyhide.Now,stop

andtakeyourpulse.Tellmewhatyoufeel.”Shequitpedalingandputherfingertipsagainstherwristandcounted.

Thecoursingof theblood throughherveins sentouta steadyrhythm,makinghersmile.Shefelttheheart—herheart—poundinginherchest,youngandvibrantwithhealth. Itwasagoodheart,witha lifetimeofworkleftinit.Attheendofsixtyseconds,shetoldBarryherpulserate.Heflasheda

wide smile. “That’s good, Katie. Real good. You’ve been doing bettereverydaythisweek.”“Tellthattomymom.Ifshehadherway,I’dbeaninvalidfortherest

ofmylife.”“She’sscared,”Barrysaid.“Iseethatkindofreactioninpatientsand

theirfamiliesallthetime.”“Well,I’mnotscared.”

“You need a balance,” Barry cautioned. “You can’t abuse your newheart,either.”“AllIwantisforittohelpmerunagain.”“DocJacobytoldmeyouwereonceatrackstar.”“Iplantobeoneagain,”Katierepliedwithaliftofherchin.“Areyougoingtotryandtalkmeoutofit?”“Notme. Transplant patients can do anything theywant, so long astheytakegoodcareofthemselves.”“Wecan?”ThiswasthefirstpositivewordKatiehadheardsinceheroperation.“Tellmemore.”“I’ve read about recipients becoming marathon runners. It takes agreatdealofworkandmedicalsupervision,butit’spossible.”Katiefeltasifadoorshe’dbeenbangingonformonthshadsuddenlyswungopen.“That’swhatIwanttodo—run.Iusedtobegoodatit,youknow.”“YoucantestyourselfintheOlympics,”Barrysaid.“TheOlympics?Idon’tknowifI’mthatgood.”Barrylaughed.“TheTransplantOlympics,Imean.”Katieeyedhimskeptically.“Areyoumakingfunofme?”“Noway.Yearsago,whentransplantingfirststarted,mostpeoplediedearlyon. In themid-seventies,medicinealmostgaveup theoperationsaltogether.Thedoctorsknewhowtodothesurgeries,buttherejectionproblemcouldn’tbelicked.”Katiesquirmed.She’dcometofear thewordrejectionmorethananyother.“Ithoughttheproblemwasundercontrol.”“It’sbecomelessofaproblemwithcyclosporine.”“That’soneofmymedicines.”“Youknowwhatitis?”Katiedidn’thaveaclue.“Atest-tubedrug?”Barry launched into a story. “Somemicrobiologist discovered it in asoil sample he’d dug up on a plateau in Norway when he was onvacation. He was searching for a new antibiotic, you know, like

penicillin—and just happened on this new organic compound no onehadeverseenbefore.”“You’remakingthisup,”Katiechided.“It’s the truth,Katie.Thestuffwasn’twortha thingasanantibiotic,butanotherscientistnoticedthatinhislaboratory,thiscompoundhadapowerful effect on the immune system. After a lot of testing,cyclosporineprovedfarbetterthansteroidsforhandlingrejection.Oncethat breakthrough came”—Barry shrugged—“transplants got popularagain.Andnowmorepeoplearelivingthandyingfromthem.So…thesurvivorsgettogetheronceayearandhavethisbigOlympicscalledtheTransplant Games. They compete in athletic events, meet others likethemselves,andputoutthegoodwordaboutorgandonation.”“Wherearethesegamesheld?”“Thisyear,they’reinLosAngeles,ontheUCLAcampus.I’vereadthatofficialsareexpectingmaybesixhundredparticipants.”“Six hundred and one,” Katie said. Her pulse was tripping, but notfromphysicalexertion.Barry laughedandpattedher shoulder. “They’reheld in July,Katie.Youhavealongwaytogobeforeyou’recompetitiveagain.”“I’mwillingtoworkhard.”Barry’sbrowpuckered.“You’lljusthavetoseehowyou’redoingwithyour new heart. Remember, people hold the Games in order to bringnationalattentiontotheneedfororgandonation.”“Then,I’llbeawalkingbillboard,”Katieinsisted.“CanyougetmoreinformationabouttheGamesforme?”“Sure.”“Good.”Katieputher feetbackon thepedalsof thestationarybike.“Let’sgetbacktowork.”“Now,Katie—”“Oh,don’tbeadrag,Barry.Ihaveenoughproblemswithmyparents—althoughMom’sworsethanDad.”Thatnight,whenshetoldherparents,eachreactedjustasKatiehadpredicted.Herdadperkedupwithinterest.Hermotherrecoiledinfear.

“I just don’t think this therapist has any right to give you any falsehopes,”hermothersaid.“Barbara,don’tbesonegative,”Katie’sdadsaid.Sheshothimascathinglook.“Ionlywantwhat’sbestforKatie.”“I have money enough to take us all,” Katie declared. “You said I

couldspendmyWishmoneyonsomethingIreallywanted.Well,Iwantthisintheworstway.”“Ithinkyoushouldthinkaboutsomethingelse.Youcouldbuyacar

foryourself,”hermothersuggested.“Youmeanyou’llletherdrive?”herdadaskedsarcastically.“Ordoes

sheneedtogetapersonalchauffeur?”“Really,Dan!I’monlythinkingaboutKatie’soverallsafety.”Katiedidn’tfeellikelisteningtothemargue.Infact,shewasn’tfeeling

wellatall.Herheadhurt,herhandsandfeetfelticycold,andherbodywas weak and trembling. Perhaps she’d exercised too hard thatafternoon,shetoldherself.“Couldyounottalksoloud?”Katieasked.“Ihaveaheadache.”Bothherparentslookedather.Hermother’seyesnarrowed.“Areyou

all right?” She placed her hand on Katie’s forehead. “Dan, she’s got afever.Getanurse.”“I’mfine,Mom,”Katiemumbled,knowingthatshewasn’t.Inminutes,her room filledwithnursesand technicians.Katieheard

onenursetellanother,“CallDr.Jacoby.Stat.”Katietriedtoinsistshewasallright,butshecouldn’tmakehermouth

shape thewords.Her parents huddled to one side, looking frightened.Shestruggledtotellthemnottoworry,thatshewouldbefine.WhenDr.Jacobycame,hesmoothedherbrowandcheckedtheresults

ofherbloodworkonhermedical chart. “We’removingyouback intoisolation,Katie.”“No…”shemumbledweakly.“Iwanttostayhere.”“You can’t. You’re having an episode of rejection. You know that

we’veexpectedthis.”“Please…makeitgoaway.”Tearsslidfromthecornersofhereyes.

“We’reworkingonit,”Dr.Jacobysaid.Hisexpressionwasgrim.Katie cried as they began to roll her bed down the hall toward theICU.

JoshmadeitapointoflearningwhoKatieO’Roark’sfriendswereatschool.HelearnedthatherbestfriendwasajuniornamedMelodyandthatMelodyenjoyedgivingout frequentbulletinsaboutKatie’shealth.Asunobtrusivelyaspossible,hehungonthefringesofthesmallgroupsthat gathered whenever Melody gave an update. That was how helearned thatKatiewasundergoing rejectionofhernewheart and thatshe’dbeenmovedintoIntensiveCare.Joshcouldhardlyhandlethesenseofdespairthatsweptoverhim.Shecan’tdie!he toldhimself.Shewashisonly link toAaron.Katiehad tolive,becauseifshewasalive,thenapartofAaronwouldbealive,too.That night, he lay on his bed, listening to music and bouncing abasketballoffthewall.Therepetitiousmovementgavehimsomethingtofocus on, something to anchor his sanity.Gramps came into the roomafterknockingandeyedJoshspeculatively.“Yourschoolcalledtoday,”hesaid.“Theofficesaidyoumissedtwodaysofclasses.Youleavehereeverymorning,butyouaren’tgoingtoschool.Whereareyougoing?”Josh didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to upset hisgrandfather,buthowcouldheexplainthathewentandsatinhiscarinthe hospital parking lot, staring up at the ninth floor? “No place,” heanswered.Grampssatdownonthebed.“Iknowyou’restillgrievingforAaron,boy. We both are. It’s not something you can get over right away.Grieving’sgood—it’snatural,andyoucan’tputatimelimitonit.What’snotgoodisgettingstuckinonepartofit.”Joshnodded, notwanting to get into adiscussion.Hewanted to beleft alone. “I wish I could change what’s happened.” The sense ofhelplessnesshefeltwasoverwhelming.HehadnocontroloverAaron’sdying,nocontroloverKatie’srejection.Hedidn’tevenknowher,buthefeltlinkedtoher.“Whenyoucan’tchangethings,youfindawayto livewiththemastheyare.YoufindawaytomakepeacewithGodandgooninspiteof

it.”Josh didn’t think it was possible for him to overcome what was

happening.“That’swhatAarondid,”Grampsadded.“How?”“When he knew itwas impossible for him and you to live at home

anymore,hefiguredoutawayaroundit.”“Wecamehere,”Joshsaid.“That’s right.So, I’maskingyou, ifyoucan’tbringAaronback from

thegrave,whatcanyoudotomakeyourpeacewithhisdying?”The answer came to Josh in a flash of inspiration. He could touch

KatieO’Roarkbefore shedied.Not ina secondhandway,ashe’dbeendoingsofar,but intheflesh,withhisownhands.Bytouchingher,hecould connectwithAaron.He twirled thebasketball inhishands. “I’llthinkaboutit,”hetoldGramps.Theoldmanroseandshuffledtothedoor.“TheGoodBooksaysthat

byhelpingothers,wehelpourselves.Josh,havingyouherewithmeisgoodhelp. Iwish I couldofferyou the samekindofhelp. If youeverwanttotalk…”The old man’s eloquence reached inside Josh, making him soften,

calming his fears. “You’re good help to me, Gramps. Tonight, you’vehelpedmea lot.”ThemomentGramps left, Joshbegan to formulateaplan.

Ten

JOSH BLENDED INTO the group of people as they stepped into the hospitalelevatoronthegroundfloor.Helickedhislips,dryfrominnertension.Act as though you belong here, he told himself. Only people who looknervousandoutofplacegetnoticed.The elevator stoppedon each floor.Thedoor slidopen, andvisitors

steppedout. Soon, Joshwas theonlyoccupantof the car, andhewasstartled when the door opened onto the ninth floor. The halls lookedeerily empty as he exited. He stood still for a moment, to get hisbearingsandtocalmhisracingheart.Deep breaths, he commanded silently. Look as though you belong. His

brotherhad taughthim the lessonyearsearlier,whenAaronhadbeenfourteenandJoshonlyten.Theirmotherhadbeeninthehospital,putthere by a pounding from their father’s fists. Josh had cried for days,convincedthathewouldn’tseehismotheraliveeveragain.“Youwanttoseeher?”Aaronasked.“Ican’tgoupthere,”Joshsaid,sniffing.Aaronwasoldenoughtovisit

onpatientfloors;hewasn’t.“Sureyoucan.Justcomeupwithme.Keepyoureyesstraightahead,

andlookasifyoubelong.Thatway,noonewillevennoticeyou.”Josh had done exactly as he’d been told. He’d seen hismother, her

facebandaged,herarminacast.She’dwept,andhe’dclungtoherasifshe might disappear. Josh shook his head to clear out the long-agomemoriesofthatotherdayinahospital. IfonlyAaronwereherewithhimnowtohelpgivehimcourage.

“Areyoulost?”Thenurse’svoicecausedJoshtojumpafoot.“Um—IwaslookingfortheICU,”hesaid.“It’s at the end of the hall.” She pointed. “Do you have a familymemberthere?Onlyimmediatefamilycanbeadmittedtotheunit,andthen foronly tenminutesatavisit.There’san ICUwaiting roomnextdoorifyouwanttovisitwithsomeone’sfamily.”“I’mnotheretoseeanyoneinparticular,”hereplied,moisteninghislips again. “You see, I’mdoinga special reporton intensive care for ascience project. So, I’m up here sort of snooping around forinformation.”Joshsmiled,inwardlystartledbytheglibwaytheliehadflowedoutofhismouth.The nurse was young and pretty. She returned his smile. “I’ve onlybeenhereaweekmyself.I’mintraining.Idon’tknowmuch,butwhatIdo know I’ll be glad to tell you. I’ve had to do reports for classroomprojects.Sometimesthebooksmakeeverythingsodull.”“Then you understand.” Josh felt a wave of relief. “I’d reallyappreciateaguidedtour.”“Icantakeyouinsidetheunit,butnotintoanyonepatient’scubicle.”“Inside would be fine.” He tagged along behind her, crossing hisfingers in thehope thathe couldmaintainhis charade. She inserted aspecial card in a doorway security system.When the buzzer sounded,she led him into a large room that was lined with glass-enclosedcubicles.Acentralislandallowedtwonursestoseeintoeverycubicle,aswellasmonitorbanksofelectronicequipmentononesideoftheroom.Helistenedasthenurse,Maria,explainedtotheothernurseswhatshewasdoing.Hegrinnedattheminnocentlyandrockedbackonhisheels,hoping the quaking of his insides didn’t show on his face. The othersseemedbusy, distracted, soMaria launched into a spiel about the ICUwhileJoshpretendedtobeinterested.Allthetime,hisgazedartedabout.HeknewthatKatielayinoneofthe cubicles. “Can I look inside the glass windows?” he asked whenMariapausedforabreath.“Ipromisenottodisturbanybody.”Marialookedhesitant,butfinallysaid,“Iguessso.”

Hewalkedslowlydownonesideoftheroom.Inonecubiclelayamanhookedtomachines.Anotherwasempty.Athirdhadasignpostedonthedoorthatread;DONOTENTER, ISOLATIONPROTOCOL.Onthebedlayagirl.Hisbreath jammed in his lungs. He knew he’d found Katie O’Roark. Hestoodattheglasspartition,transfixed.Herdarkhairspilledoutontothepillow, and she looked frail and impossibly thin. Her bed wassurroundedbymachines,wires,tubes,andlines.Without realizing it, Josh had pressed so close to the glass that hisnosewas touching it.His heart hammered against his ribs.His fingerscurledontheglass.Katie.Aaron.Bothonlyafewfeetaway.“You’renotreallydoingareportontheICU,areyou?”Maria’s question caused cold sweat to break out on Josh’s face. Heglanced sideways at her. “I’m sorry I lied.”Hiswords came haltingly.“ButIhadtoseeher.Pleasedon’tbeangryatme.Don’tcallthecops.I’llleave.”Thenursetouchedhisarm.“She’syourgirlfriend,isn’tshe?”Josh felt as if he’d been given a reprieve. “Howdid you guess?” heasked.Anotherlie.“It’swrittenalloveryour face that she’s special toyou.Don’tpanic.I’mnotgoingtothrowyouout.Takeaminuteandlookather.Don’tlettheothersknow,okay?”Shegesturedtowardthenurse’sstation.“It’s our secret… and thanks.” Josh continued to stare at Katie.Helonged to touch her. He supposed he was going nuts. What else butinsanity could have driven him to haunt a hospital for weeks, hangaroundthe lobby,sneakuptotheICU,andlie toget insidesothathecouldgazelonginglyatagirlhedidn’tknowandhadnevermet?“Howisshedoing?”“Actually,prettywell.”JoshglancedquicklyatMaria,thenbackatKatie.“Sheis?”Hisbreathmadeafoggyplaceonthewindow.“With themachines and all, I know it’s pretty intimidating, but sheturnedacornerthismorning.Dr.Jacobythinkshe’sgotherepisodeofrejectionundercontrol.”Josh’skneeswentweak.“That’sgood.”

“Maybethey’llmoveherbackintoherroominafewdays.Iknowherparentswillberelieved.They’vebeenheredayandnight.”Joshcouldn’t tearhiseyesaway fromKatie.Hesawherchest rising

andfalling.Theimagesoothedhim.Aaron’sheartwaskeepingheralive.HewatchedasKatie’sheadturnedonthepillow.Heheldhisbreathashe saw her eyes struggle open, focus, and stare directly into his. Joshgasped and jumped backward. “I should be going,” he mumbled. Forsomereason,hefeltrevealedandnaked.ApuzzledfrowncreasedMaria’sforehead.“Maybeyoushould.”Joshwalkedquicklytothedoorandoutintothecorridor.“Thanks,”

he calledoverhis shoulder to theyoungnursepursuinghim. “I reallyappreciateyourlettingmein.”Hepunchedtheelevatorbutton.Whenitdidn’tarrivepromptly,heduckedthroughthestairwellexit.“Wait!”heheardthenursecall.“Seeyounexttime!”Joshyelled.Hisvoicereverberatedinthehollow

stairwellashehurrieddownward.Hechaseditsechoallthewaytothegroundfloor.

Katiedrifted,feelingasifshewereagainfloatingonawarmsea.Shewasmore aware this time. She heard voices, recognizing hermother’sand father’swhispers. Shewanted to tell them, “I’m fine. I’ll be fine,”butcouldn’t.She had glimpses of people coming in and out, of bending and

probing.Allshecouldseeofthemweretheireyessandwichedbetweengreen papermasks and green paper head coverings. Didn’t they knowshewantedtoseetheirlipsandcheeksandchins?Didn’tanyonerealizewhatitwasliketobehandledthroughthebarrieroflatexgloves?Shefeltlikesomelaboratoryratinaglasscage,trappedonabed,held

inplacebywires and tubes. Shewantedout. Shewanted togohome.Shewantedtofeelthesunlightonherskinoncemore.Katieknewshe’dlostalltheprogressshe’dgainedinworkingouton

thestationarybike.She’dhavetostartalloveragain.Holdon,heart,shesaidtoherselfoverandover.ShethoughtaboutJWC,whoknewwhatitwasliketolieinahospital“…feelinglonelyandscared.”Maybewhen

JWCheardaboutKatie,heorshewouldcomeandtalktoher.Itwouldbenicetotalktosomeoneherageagain.Katiestruggledtoopenhereyes.Thelongingtobewithsomeonelikeherselfwas tangible.When her eyes opened, shewas looking throughthe glasswall of her cubicle. A boywith red hairwas standing there,looking in at her. It was as if her longing had melded with herimagination and conjured him up from thin air. Katie was so startledthatshedidn’tevenblink.Allatonce,theboyvanished.Shetriedtocallhimback,buthervoicewouldn’twork.Moments later, her eyelids closed as sleep reachedoutfor her. He had simply been a figment of her imagination.Disappointment crowded in on her. He’d been an illusion, a fantasy,constructed out of her loneliness to fill a need for someone human totouchher.

Eleven

KATIE BREATHED Adeep,contentedsigh.Eventhoughshewasonlyallowedtosit inawheelchair in thevisitation room,her senseof freedomandmobility felt incredible.She’dbeenreturned toher roomfromthe ICUtwo days before and allowed to leave her room for the first time thatmorning.With a nurse’s help, she’dwashed her hair, put onmakeup,anddressedinthebeautifulroyalbluevelvetybathrobeherparentshadboughther.After lunch, she’d workedwith Barry and the stationary bike. After

she’d told him she was going “stir crazy,” he’d helped her into thewheelchair and she’d rolled herself down the hall under the watchfuleyesofthenurses.Katierolledovertothewindowandpeeredout.Theweatherwassunny,butshecouldtellitwascold.Thetreeswerebarren,andthegroundlookedbrownandlifeless.TypicalofNovember.“I’vebeenhereforever,”shemutteredunderherbreath,recallingthe

gloriousautumnshe’dleftbehindwhenshe’denteredthehospital.Shestillcouldn’tpinDr.Jacobydownonareleasedate.“Soon,”wasallhe’dsay.Soon.Thewordhadlost itsmeaning.Katietriednottobeglum,but

now that she was feeling better, the days seemed impossibly long. Atleast,shecouldhavevisitors—Melodyhadbeenthefirst.She’dcomethenightbeforeandcriedthewholetimeshevisited.“I can’t believe you’re actually all right,”Melody had said between

sobs.“IneverthoughtIwasgoingtoseeyouagain.Firstyouweresick,then dying, then the operation … and now … now you’re alive andbeautiful.Oh,Katie,it’samiracle!”

Katie felt thatwhile itcertainlymightappearmiraculous toMelody,only she knew how complicated her “miracle” had been. And howpainful.“I’ll come visit you every day. I’ll tell everyone at school howgreatyou’redoing,”Melodyinsisted.“Everybodyasksaboutyou.Infact,themainofficeputsupdatesaboutyouonthecentralbulletinboard.IthinkMr. Clausen is going to declare a Katie O’Roark Day when you comebacktoschool.”Katiewasmortified.Shedidn’twantalltheattention,especiallysinceshehadn’tdoneanythingtodeserveit.Itwasn’tlikewinningarace,orthemedallionfortophighschoolfemalerunnerinthedistrict.Sofar,allshe’ddonewassurviveahearttransplant.Katiesighedandpushedherwheelchairawayfromthewindow.Sheglancedaroundtheroomandsawthatafewmorepatientshadentered,somewith visitors. Thepeople in street clothes lookedout of place toher.Actually,shefeltatwingeofjealousy.She’dgiveanythingtoputonbluejeansandasweatshirtagain.From the corner of her eye, she saw a boy with red hair who wasaboutherage.Hestoodnearthedoorway,lookingnervous.Withastart,she realized he was watching her, because he kept diverting his gazewhensheglancedhisway.Odd,Katietoldherself.Katiehadanaggingsense she’d seen him before, even though she couldn’t place him. Asnonchalantlyaspossible,sherolledherwheelchaircloser,pickingupamagazineasshepassedatable.Sheflippedthroughthemagazine,pretendingtobeinterested,allthewhileglancingdiscreetlytowardtheboy.Eventhoughhealsopickedupamagazine,Katiecouldtellthathewaspreoccupiedwithstudyingher.Suddenly, shegrewself-conscious.Wassomethingwrongwith thewayshe looked? She’d thought she looked better than she had in monthswhenshe’dleftherhospitalroomthatafternoon.Whywashewatchingher?Aflashofinsightcausedhertogasp.Couldhesomehowbeconnectedto themysteriousWishFoundation?Katie turned the chair and inonesmoothmoverolled it rightup tohim,almostpinninghimagainst thewall.“Excuseme,”shesaid.“Byanychance,areyourinitialsJWC?”

Shecaughthimtotallyoffguard,andhisfaceturnedasredashishair.“Yes,”hestammered,tryingtogetoutofherway.“Imean,no.Thatis,myfirstnamebeginswithaJ,butthat’sall.”Katie felt both disappointed and foolish. She thought that he wasgood-looking, talland lankywithasquare jawandgold-fleckedbrowneyes.Inanefforttoappearincontrol,sheasked,“What’stheJfor?”“Um—Joshua,”hesaid.“ButeverybodycallsmeJosh.”“Wheredoyougotoschool?”“AnnArborHigh.”“SodoI.WhenI’mnotinthehospital.”Shetippedherheadupward.“DoIknowyoufromschool?”He flushed beet red oncemore. “No. Imean… I just transferred inSeptember.”Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that she’d seen him somewherebefore?“Doyoulikeit?”“Sure.It’sokay.”Katiewas runningoutof small talk,yet she still couldn’tplacehim.However, itwas so good to be around someone her own age that shedidn’twanthimtoleave—evenifhedidlookcornered.“Wouldyouliketo sitand talk tome?Youdon’thave to,” sheaddedquickly. “It’s justthatI’vebeencoopedupinthisplaceforsolong,I’mreadytoscream.”Shetackedonanencouragingsmile.Hedroppedhisgaze.“Well,maybeforafewminutes.”Sherolledtowardanemptysofaonthefarsideoftheroomwherehesat and peered anxiously around. “Are youwaiting for someone?” sheasked.Secretly,shehopednot.“No,”hesaid.“So, why are you here?” Shewatched him lace his fingers togetherandstaredownatthem.Oncesheasked,itoccurredtoKatiethatitdidseemstrangethathewouldbeherefornoreason.“IguessyouprobablythoughtIwascrazyaskingyouaboutyourinitials,”shesaid.“Whydidyou?”“Someonewiththoseinitialshasbeenverynicetome,butI’venever

mettheperson.Areyousureyou’renotJWC?”“My name’s JoshMartel.” He jerked his head up and looked at her

hard,almostasifheexpectedhertorecognizethename.Katiesearchedhermemory,butdrewablank.“Iguess Idon’tknow

you,”sheadmittedhaltingly.“Ican’thelpit,though…youreallylookfamiliartome.”Hesuddenlyappearedmoreatease.“Ihavea‘regular’face.Nothing

special.”“It’sprobablyallthemedicationsI’mtaking.I’llbetthey’veturnedmy

brain intosoup,”Katie remarkedwryly.“Ican’twait togetoutof thisplace.”“Howmuchlongerwillyoubehere?”“Whoknows?Untilmydoctorthinksmyheart’sfittotravel.”“Youhaveabadheart?”Josh’sexpressionlookedconcerned.“Thedoctor’s fixed it,”Katie said,deciding thather storywasmuch

too longand involvedto tell.Besides, shedidn’twantJosh to thinkofherasaninvalid.“I’llprobablyberunningfootracesbythissummer.”“Areyoucomingbacktoschoolsoon?”“Idon’t know. I have to recuperate athome first, but eventually I’ll

comeback.Whatclassareyouin?”“I’majunior.”Katiesmiledbrightly.“Hey—sameasme.”“Iknow—Imean—youlooklikeajunior.”Josh’sfaceflushedred.Katie’seyesnarrowed,andshestudiedhimmoreclosely.Heseemed

acutely embarrassed, almost guilty, as if he’d been caught doingsomething wrong. All at once, everything clicked into place. Sheremembered opening her eyes in the ICU and seeing a red-haired boywiththesameexpressionofembarrassedguiltstaringatherthroughtheglasswall.“YouweretheguyintheICU!”sheblurtedout.Joshalmost leaptup,butKatie’shandreachedoutandstoppedhim.

“Don’t go,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you off.” Now she wasembarrassed.Heprobablythoughtshehadlosthermind.Hedidn’tpullawayfromher,onlyglanceddownatherhandonhis

arm.“IwastheguyinIntensiveCare,”headmitted.“I thought I had imagined you,” Katie said softly. “You were real.”Joshnodded.“Butwhy?Whywereyouthere?Whywereyoulookingatme?”Josh’scheekscolored.“YouprobablythinkI’mweird.”Untilhesaidit,theideahadn’tcrossedKatie’smind.“Forgetweird—butIamcurious.”Josh releaseda long,pent-up sigh. “Iwanted to see thepersonwhohadreceivedmybrother’sheart.”Katie felt as if all the air had gone from the room and time wasstandingstill.“Yourbrother?”“Yousee,hedied,andmyGrampsandIokayeddonatinghisorgans.Nooneknew…nooneknows. I put it all togetherwhen I readyourfather’scolumnabouthisdaughter,Katie,who’dgottenasecondchanceat life with a heart transplant. There were some other details in thestory … and with the timing of Aaron’s—” He interrupted himself.“Well…Ifigureditout.”Joshwasinchesfromherface.“Iwantedtoseeyou,”heexplained.“Somehow,knowingthatAaron’sheartwas alive inside youmade him alive again forme.”He glancedaway,lookingself-consciousandalittlescared.“Ican’texplainitreally.I’msorryifI’vepesteredyou.”For a moment, Katie couldn’t speak. The whole scenario seemedunreal.Then,amistof tearscametohereyesandathick lumpclosedoffherthroat.“Thankyou,”shewhispered.Joshlookedupquickly.“Iwon’tbotheryouanymore.”Hemoved,asiftoriseandleave.“Wait a minute. Don’t go.” She fumbled with the pocket of herbathrobe andwithdrewa stethoscope.He looked so surprised that shelaughed.“Iknow…mostgirlscarryabrush. Ihave todo this severaltimesaday,soIdragiteverywhere.”“Dowhat?”“This.” Katie leaned forward and placed the earpieces of thestethoscopegentlyintoJosh’sears.Shetooktheotherendandplaceditunder her robe, snugly against the warm flesh near her left breast.

“Listen,”sheurged,nevertakinghereyesfromJosh’sface.She watched his expression go from wariness to surprise to

wonderment. She saw his golden brown eyes fill with tears and hislashes sweep downward as his eyes closed. She knew what he washearing—the faint whoosh-whoosh of her healthy, beating heart. Sheheardhimexhaleandfeltthepepper-mintywarmthofhisbreathonhercheekashewhispered,“Hey,bro.”

Twelve

JOSH COULD HARDLY swallowaround the knot that blockedhis throat as helistened to the steady rhythm of Aaron’s heart. How wonderful itsounded! How strong and sturdy. For an instant, he felt suspended intime and space, caught between the present and the past. Aaron wastruly alive in the body of Katie O’Roark. Overwhelmed, he felt a tearescape and trickle down his cheek. His eyes flew open when he feltKatie’sfingerbrushittenderly.Joshstraightened.Unashamed,hegazedstraightatherandsawthat

her own tears were wetting her cheeks. She dropped the end of thestethoscope and gently held his face between her palms. “Thank you,Josh Martel. Because of you… because of Aaron… I’m alive. I wasalmostdead,youknow,whenAaron’sheartbecameavailable.Withoutit,I’dbeinagraverightnow.I’vewonderedsomuchaboutmydonor.IprayedthatIcouldonedaymeetthefamily.Didyouknowthat?”“No.”“It’s true.Myparents and I—we’re all so very, very grateful to you.

I’vewantedtoknowaboutmydonor,butthehospitaltellsyousolittle.They act as if theywant to keep it a secret, as if recipients shouldn’tknowwho their donor is. Iwanted to knowmore than anything.WillyoutellmeaboutAaron?”Josh’s emotions churned, jumbledandwild.Hehad slipped into the

hospital that afternoon only to catch another glimpse of Katie. Hecouldn’thelphimself.Hewasdrawntoherlikeamothtoaflame.Whenshe’dstruckupaconversationwithhim,he’dlostcontrolofhisroleasanobserver.Atfirst,hecouldn’tbelieveshehadn’trecognizedhimfrom

the ICU, but when it became evident that she hadn’t, he’d allowedhimselftobequestionedbyher.When he’d given his name and she hadn’t responded to it, he’drealized that she honestly didn’t know how they were linked. Whenshe’d reached over and touched him, it was as if they’d connectedspirituallyaswellasphysically.Andthen,whenshe’dlethimlistentoAaron’sheart…“Iwouldliketotellyouaboutmybrother…justnotrightnow,”hesaid,clearinghisthroat.“Butyouwilltellme?Youwillcomeback?”Joshknewtherewasnowayonearthhecouldstayaway.Nottellingher about Aaron was tearing him up inside. He had to share hismemories,andhisfeelings,withsomeone.“I’llbeback.”“I know my mom and dad will want to meet you. Is that okay? Ipromisethatmydadwon’tdoacolumnaboutyou.”Herjokemadehimsmile.“I’dliketomeetthem,”hetoldher.Herosetoleave.Shetookhishand,asifuncertainwhetherornottolethimgo.The gesture touched him. “Can I come to your room next time? Orshould I run the riskof ‘accidentally’bumping intoyou in thevisitors’room?”heasked.He watched her smile and decided she was beautiful. “My room isfine.MaybeIcouldmeetyourgrandfather,too.”“Once I tell him about you, I’m sure he’ll want tomeet you.” Joshsqueezed her hand. “One question before I go—who’s this JWC youaskedmeabout?”Katie shrugged. “As I told you, I don’t really know, but he or she’sbeengoodtome.I’lltellyouallaboutitsometime.”“Funnyhowwehavethesamefirstinitial,”Joshsaid.“Acoincidence,”Katiereplied.“Youlookperfectlyhealthy,whileJWChashealthproblems.ThatmuchIknow.”Joshpeereddown intoherupturned faceand foramomenthad thebizarreurgetotakeherwithhim.Hedidn’twanttoleaveher,yetshelookedtiredandfragile,andhedidn’twanther tohavearelapse.“I’llseeyousoon,”hepromised,thenturnedandfairlycoastedoutthedoor.

“Youactuallymethim?”Herfathersoundedincredulous.“All because of your column,” Katie said. “But please don’t writeanotheroneaboutme.”Shewasproppedupinbed,andherparentshadcomefortheireveningvisit.“I’mnot surehow I feel about this,”hermother said. “I don’t thinkrecipientsshouldmeetadonor’sfamily.”Katie feltexasperated.“What’shegoingtodo,Mom?Taketheheartback?”Hermotherflushed.“Itmaybetoomuchemotionalstressonyou.Onthem,too.Didhementionhisparents?Thinkhowtheymustbefeeling.Iknowwhatitfeelsliketowatchsomeoneyouloveliedying.”“Josh only mentioned his grandfather. I didn’t ask about his andAaron’s parents.” The oddity of it suddenly struck Katie. Where wereJosh’s parents? Why had only he and Gramps made the decision todonateAaron’sorgans?“Well, I’d like tomeet thisyoungman,”Katie’sdadsaid.“I’d like toshakehishandandtellhimthanks.Alotmorepeoplecouldbesavedifmorepeoplewerewillingtodonatetheirorgans.MaybeI’lldoacolumnaboutit.”“Daddy—”“Notaboutyou.Aboutorgandonation.”“Idon’twantthewholeworldtoknow,”Katiesaid.“UnlessJoshdoes.Ithinkweshouldprotecthisprivacy.”“That’s finewithus,”herdadagreed.“Howeveryouwant tohandleit.”Josh and Gramps came the next evening, and after a round ofintroductions, the elderly man shuffled closer to Katie’s bed. “You’reright,Josh,she’saprettygirl.”Katiefeltself-conscious,andJoshdidn’tlooktoocomfortable,either.“Ilookbetternowthatthey’vecutbackonmysteroiddose.Forawhile,IresembledaHalloweenpumpkin,”shesaid.“I can’t imagine that you ever lookedbad,”Gramps said.He turnedtowardKatie’s parents. “Aaronwouldbepleased to knowKatie’s alive

becauseofhisheart.Hewasanathlete,youknow.”“Ididn’tknow,”Katie’sfatherreplied,hisfacebrightwithinterest.Katie was surprised, too, but delighted. She’d received an athlete’s

heart,whichputherthatmuchclosertoherdreamofrunningagain.GrampsglancedatJosh,whoexplained,“AaronwastheUniversityof

Michigan footballkickerwhodiedonthe field in the firstgameof theseason.”Katie’s dad looked stunned. “Aaron Martel? Of course! I remember

when it happened, but Iwas so caught up in Katie at the time that Ineverreportedonit.Oneofmycolleaguesdid.Then,thatnight,whenthecallcamethatthey’dfoundKatieaheart—well,Ididn’thavetimetofollow up on the story.” Mr. O’Roark shook his head. “It was a realtragedy,andwe’resorry.Hewasafinefootballplayer.Irememberhisstatsfrompreseason.”KatienoticedthatJoshhadturnedhisheadasalookofpaincrossed

his face. She felt unbearable pity for him and wished there weresomethingshecoulddotohelphim.“Joshhere isanathlete, too,”Grampssaid, inanattempt tosmooth

overtheawkwardmoment.“Track,” Josh said quickly. “Aaron was into football, and I took up

track.”Katiesatupright.“Me,too!”shecried.“I know.” Josh’s honey-color eyes bore into her. “I read it in your

dad’scolumn.”The mention of the column brought comic relief, and all of them

laughed.“WhatcanIsay?I lovehavinga jockforadaughter,”Katie’sdadkidded.GrampstookKatie’shandinhis.“YoutakegoodcareofAaron’sheart,

younglady.Andwhenyourunyourfirstrace,I’llbecheeringforyou.”“I’m not sure Katiewill be resuming her track career,” Katie’smom

said.“Herdoctorsmustapproveanyexertion,anystrenuousexercise.”Katiebithertongue,notwantingtohaveasceneinfrontofstrangers.

“We’llsee,”shesaidstubbornly.“Thequalityofmylifewassupposedto

improvewiththetransplant.”“Ithasimproved.You’realive,”hermothercountered.Gramps turned toward his grandson. “It’s getting late. Maybe we’dbettergethome.”Joshagreed,andKatiewatchedthemleaveafterextractingapromisefrom Josh that he’d come again the next day. “We have a lot to talkabout,”shecalledtohim.Once they were gone, Katie’s mother said, “We’d better go, too. IpromisedoneoftheschoolsI’dsubstitute-teachtomorrow.CanIgetyouanything?” She acted casual, as if her and Katie’s exchange aboutexercisehadn’toccurred.Katiesankdownintothebed.“AllIwantistogetoutofhere.”“Induetime,”hermotherassuredher.“Butlet’snotpushit.”Katie felt like screaming. Couldn’t anyone understand that she wasfine now—that because ofAaron’s healthy heart, a great surgeon, andthe wonder drug cyclosporine, she was well? She wanted out. Shewantedtopickupherlifeagain.Shewantedherfreedom.Shehadbeengivenasecondchanceatlife—ifanyonewouldallowhertotakeit!

Thirteen

“HOWOFTENDOIhavetohavethisdone?”KatieaskedDr.Jacoby.“After this heart biopsy, you’ll have another at three months and

another at sixmonths.Eventually, you’ll haveoneayear,”Dr. Jacobyexplained as a nurse readied instruments in the procedure room. “Iftoday’stestlooksgood,I’llreleaseyou.”Katie lay on a stretcher while the doctor cleaned her neck with an

iodinesolution.Thepromiseofgoinghomemadeitdifficult forhertoliestillfortheprocedure.“WhydoIhavetohaveheartbiopsies?”“Theyrevealwhetherornotyourbodyhasacceptedyournewheart.”“Ithoughtithad.”“Thisistheonlywaytoknowforcertain.Now,relax.I’mprettygood

atthisprocedure,ifIdosaysomyself.”Relax! What a joke, Katie thought. How was she supposed to relax

when a doctor was about to make an incision in her neck, thread aspecialwire along her jugular vein and into her heart, and snip off apiecetobeexaminedunderamicroscope?“Willithurt?”“Doneproperly,itshouldn’t.I’vedeadenedtheskinatthesiteofthe

incision,andyouhavenonerveendingsinsideyourveins.Doyouwantyourparentsinherewithyou?”“Are you serious? Dad almost passes out when he watches the lab

drawblood,andMomactsasifI’mgoingtobreakapart.”Dr.Jacobysmiled.“They’rejustconcerned,andtheirbehaviorisvery

typical.Youwanttowatchthisonthefluoroscope?”HemotionedtoaportableX-raycamerawithascreenforfollowingthepathofthebiopsy

instrument.“CanI?”“You’llbegettingalotofbiopsiesovertheyears.Youmayaswellseewhat’sbeingdone.”Shewasnervous,butbecamecuriousafter the stingof the injectionadministering the localanestheticwasover. “Will Ihavea scaronmyneck?”“Asmallone.”“WillIhaveanewscaraftereachbiopsy?”“Yes.”“Thatstinks.I’lllooklikeDracula’sgirlfriend.”Dr.Jacobylaughed.“Katie,Idon’tthinkI’veeverhadapatientwithyoursenseofhumor.”Katie watched the procedure on the TV screen as objectively aspossible, tryingnot tothinkofwhatshewasseeingasher insides.Thewirelikeinstrumentwithpincersontheendslidalongherneckandintothechamberofherheart.Aaron’sheart.She’dgiveJoshvisitationrights.Whatanoddwaytomeetaguy.Theideacausedhertosmilefaintly.“The human heart,” Dr. Jacoby said as he worked. “It beats onehundredthousandtimesaday,pumpingtwothousandgallonsofbloodforeighty—sometimesninetyyearsandmore.Ican’tbelievewe’llevercomeupwithamechanicalpumpthatcanperformaswell.”“Thisisagoodheart,isn’tit?”“Verygood.”“BarrysaysI’mdoingwellinmyexerciseprogram.”“Iknow.”“He told me about the Transplant Games. I want to run in them.”Whatshehadwantedtosaywas,I’mgoingtorunintheTransplantGames.Dr. Jacoby caught her eye, then resumed his work. “Katie, I’m notgoingtosayyoucan’tdoanything.Iamgoingtowarnyou,though,thatnomatterhowgoodyoufeel,you’vestillgotmedicalproblems.Frankly,compared with most patients in the transplant program, you receivedyour transplant very quickly. I have patients who’ve been waiting for

years;othershavediedwaitingforasuitableorgan.Thewaitingprocessoften makes people more aware of what an extraordinary blessing adonororgancanbe.”“Don’t you think I’m grateful? I am. But I don’t want to always beafraid to live, either. Don’t you see? I can be a real asset for organdonation.Icanbeanadvocate. If Idowell—reallywell—onthetrack,thousands of people will know. They’ll be able to see that donatingorgansisagoodthingandthatrecipientscanlivenormal,usefullives.Whowantstobeaninvalid?Whenpeopleseesomeonewithatransplantdoingwell,they’llbedoublyimpressed.”“PerhapsweshouldsendyouonaPRtour.Youmakeagoodcase,”Dr.Jacobysaidashestitchedupthesmallincision.“Look,continuetowork with Barry. He’ll outline a gradual program to get you back inshape.Personally, Iwould like toseeyouaimfornextyear’sGames. Iknowthat’shardbecauseyoufeelgoodnow.”“BetterthanIhaveinalmostayear,”Katieadmitted.“Nevertheless, when I do send you home, I’ll want you to stayhouseboundwithlightexerciseforaroundsixtonineweeks.Then,afterregular checkups and another biopsy, if all’s well, you can return toschool.”“Thatwon’tbeuntilatleastJanuary,though,”Katiesaid,dismayed.“Correct.AndtheGamesareinJuly.That’sreallynotalotoftimetobefullycompetitive.”Dr.Jacobygaveherasidelongglance.“Ofcourse,I’m assuming you’re planning on running towin, not just running forfun,whichisanotherconversationaltogether.”“That’stheonlywayI’veeverrun,”Katiesaid.“I’mnotsurprised.”“But you’re not telling me that I can’t be competitive by July, areyou?”Dr.Jacobyslappedthepalmofhishandagainsthisforehead.“You’reasstubbornasabulldog,KatieO’Roark.”She offered him a dazzling grin. “That’s true, but how else can apersonbecomeawinnerunlessshesetshersightsonbeingone?”“TalktoBarry,”Dr.Jacobysaid,signalingthenursethatKatiecould

betakenbacktoherroom.“Andfollowwhathetellsyou,totheletter.”

ThebiopsyshowedthatKatie’sbodywasacceptingAaron’sheart,andDr.Jacobytoldher,“Packyourthings.I’mtossingyououtofhere.”AsKatieleftthehospital,thewholetransplantteam,thenursesonthe

ninthfloor,andeverymemberofthestaffwho’dworkedwithherlinedthe hallway and applauded. She sat in the wheelchair in jeans and asweater,holdingabouquetofroses,herparentsoneithersideofher.Assherolledtowardtheelevator,watchingtheirfaces,seeingtheirsmiles,hearingtheirgoodwishesforher,shecried.Attheelevator,Dr.Jacobypushedthebuttonforthelobby.“Arethey

clapping because they’re glad to be rid of me?” she quipped to thedoctor.Helaughed.“That’sright.Theyneverwanttoseeyouuphereagain—

unlessit’sforafriendlyvisit.”BarryoffereduptheVulcanpeacesign,“‘Livelongandprosper,’”he

said.“Youcallmeifyouneedanything.”Shehadlistsofinformationandfistfulsofpillsgoinghomewithher.

Atthelobbydoor,lookingoutsideintothecoldNovembermorning,sheexperiencedatwingeofpanic.Hereinthehospital,shewassurroundedbypeoplewhocouldhelpheratamoment’snotice.Athome,she’dbedepending on her parents and herself. The idea was scary. She didn’twanttobedependentonherparents.She’dspentsixteenyearslearninghow to be independent of them.What if something came up none ofthemcouldhandle?Katie could tell by thepinched expressiononhermother’s face that

she,too,wasfeelingthestrain.WhenhermomhelpedKatieintothecar,Katiefelttheicycoldnessofherhandsandrealizedthathermotherwasprobablypanic-stricken.Allofthemhadalotofunwantedresponsibilitythrustuponthembecauseofhertransplant.Shetoldherselfthat ifshewasevergoingtobreakfreeagain,she’dhavetobethestrongoneandactunafraid.“Comeon,Mom,”Katie jokedplayfully. “Wecando this.Youknowwhattheysay—thisisthefirstdayoftherestofmylife.”Hermothergaveherawansmile, tookholdofherhand,anddidn’t

letgoallthewayhome.

Fourteen

“ICAN’TFIGUREouthowyoupulledthisoff,Katie,”Melodyexclaimed.“Pulledwhatoff?”Katieasked.She’dbeenhomeforweeks,spending

morningswith a tutor to catch up on her schoolwork, and afternoonswithherfriendswhenevertheydroppedbyafterschool.SheandMelodywere playing a halfhearted game of Scrabble one cold, rainy Fridayafternoon.“Youspendweeksandweeks inthehospital invirtual isolation,and

youstillmanagetomeetJoshMartel—oneofthecutestguysatschool.Howdidyoudothat?”MelodyslouchedinherchairacrossfromKatie,grumbling.Katiesmiledsweetly.“Itoldyou,hewanderedintothevisitors’lounge

atthehospital,andIwasdesperateforhumancontact.So,Ipinnedhimagainstawallwithmywheelchairandtoldhimifhedidn’tpromisetocomeseemeeveryday,I’dbreakbothhislegs.”Melodyrolledhereyes inexasperation.“Maybe I shouldcheck in to

the hospital. I haven’t had a single meaningful date this year.” Shefiddledwith several of the game tiles. “I remember seeing him in thehallsatschool.Healwayskeepstohimself,though—kindofaloner,youknow.”Katieknew.Joshcametoherhouseoften,butherarelytalkedabout

himself. “I’msurehe just feels sorry forme,”Katie said. “Andbesides,howmanygirlsdoesheknowwho’vehadtheirheartsreplaced?”“Are you saying that he’s hanging around for the sake of bragging

rights?Getreal,Katie!Helikesyou.Icantell.”

Katiewanted tobelieveMelody.Shewashalf sorry she couldn’t tellherfriendthewholetruth,butshehadsworntoprotectJosh’sprivacyabouttheoriginofherheart.Deepdown,sheknewthatsomeofJosh’sattraction to her was because of Aaron’s heart. Not that Josh wasobsessedoranything,butitwasobvioustoherhowmuchhe’dlovedhisbrother.Andhowmuchhemissedhim.She thought back to the first time he’d come over, bringingphotographsofAaron.ThemomentsheglimpsedatAaron’sfacesmilingupather,Katiestartedcryingandcouldn’tstop.“What’swrong?Areyouallright?”Joshasked.Shewas crying sohard, she could only nod in an attempt to assurehim shewas fine and to eliminate theworried expression on his face.She thought that the two brothers looked very much alike, exceptAaron’shairwasbrownandhiseyeswerehazel.Katiestaredforalongtimeat thephotoofhimwearingagraduationcapandgown.Finally,sheblewhernoseandsaid,“I’msorry. Ididn’tmeanto fallapart thatway.”“Ididn’tmeantoupsetyou.Ithoughtyouwantedtoseemybrother.”“YouknowIdid.And itdidn’tupsetme. It justmademesosad.AslongasIneverputafacewithmydonor,itwaseasiertoaccepttheideathatarealhumanbeinghaddiedandthatI’dbeengivenapartofhim.Now,seeinghim,knowingthathewasrealandseeingwhathelookedlike…Ican’texplainit.”Sheshookherhead,wishingshecouldputintowordswhatshewasfeeling.“Iunderstand,”Josh said. “That’s theway I feltabout seeingyou. ItwassomethingIhadtodobecauseitwouldbringAaronbacktomeinaway. I couldn’t tell anyone because I thought I’d be committed to thefunnyfarm.”Katie touched his arm. “So, here we are, two strangers broughttogetherbyaguywhoneverhadanythingtosayaboutit.”Joshnodded.“That’saboutit.I’mgladIknowyou,though.Ithelps.”Foralongmoment,neitherofthemsaidanything;theysimplystaredintoeachother’seyes.Whenshefeltcolorbegintocreepuphercheeksand her pulse quicken, she broke the eye contact and began rifling

throughtheotherpictures.“Isthisoneofhiminhisfootballuniform?”sheasked. Itwas adumbquestion,because itwasobvious thatAaronwasinuniform.“High school,” Josh said. “Gramps and I never got around to takingoneofhiminhiscollegeuniform.Ijustfiguredthere’dbeplentyoftimetodoit.”“Mydad saysyou’vegot todo something theminute it crossesyourmind,ortheopportunitywillgetawayfromyou.”“Ilikeyourdad,”Joshsaid.“Ilikeyourwholefamily.”“Theylikeyou,too,Josh.EspeciallyDaddy.”Shelaughed.“Alltheseyears, I’vehad tobe the sonhealwayswanted. I teasehimabout it alot.”“Icantellhewouldn’thaveitanyotherway.”Shesortedthroughmoreofthephotos.TheyallseemedtobeofAaronandJosh,nonewitheitheroftheirparents.Shestartedtoaskaboutit,butthoughtbetterofit.Shedidn’twanttopryandfeltthatifhewantedtoopenuptoher,hewoulddosowhenhefeltthetimewasright.“DoyoumindifIhangontotheseforawhile?”sheasked.Joshhesitated,andshequicklyadded,“I’lltakegoodcareofthem,Iswear.”Hepluckedonefromthepile.“Allright.Justletmetakethisonebackhomewithme.Ican’tletthemallgo.”His sentiment touched her. There was a sadness about him thattranscended the death of his brother. Katie didn’t know how, but shesensedthatJoshhadbeendeeplywounded.“He’saloner,allright,”KatieheardMelodyrepeat.“Iseehimontheindoor track every morning for a workout. He doesn’t say much toanyone,justrunshislapsandgoesofftoclasses.”The image of early morning workouts with the track team causedKatie to feel a sharp pang of regret. She should be working with theteam,asshehadinthepast.Shefeltrobbed,cheated.“I’mgoingtorunagain,”shesaid.Melodydrewback,hereyeswide.“Areyouserious?Howcanyou?”

Katie felt a sudden quick rise of anger. “Good grief, I’m nothandicapped,” she said, knowing she was beginning to sound like abroken record. “Heart transplant patients can live regular lives, youknow.Why,theyevenhavespecialOlympic-stylegamesforus.”“You’re going to participate?” Melody sounded incredulous. “Your

parentswillletyou?”“I plan to go, nomatterwhat they say.”Katie lifted her chin. “And

nextyear,I’llbebackrunningtrackforthehighschool.”“What are you telling your friends?” Katie’s dad wandered into the

room on the tail end of their conversation. He came over to Katie,huggedhershoulders,andplantedakissontopofherhead.Onethingabouthertransplant,Katiethoughtwryly,herparentshad

becomemuchmore affectionate towardher. “I said, I’m going to takeall-cityinmysenioryear.Isthataproblemforyou?”Herfatherlookedasifhewasgoingtosaysomethingnegative,then

shruggedandgaveherabigsmile.“Notforme.YouknowhowI’dliketowriteanothercolumnaboutmygirl.”“Oh,Daddy—”Melodygiggled.“Whataboutme?Willyouwriteaboutme, too,Mr.

O’Roark?”“Ifyouearnsomebodaciousaward,youbet.”Hewentontoaskher

severalquestionsabouttheupcomingtrackseason,andKatiecouldonlylisten.Shefeltleftoutandresentedit.Allshewantedwastobeapartofitallagain.Shewastiredoftakingiteasy.Sickandtiredofplayingbyeverybodyelse’sruleswhilelifepassedherby.Thatnight,shetookherprescribedpillsandwenttobed.She lay in

thedarkandtracedthepathof thescar fromhernecktoherstomachwith the tips of her fingers. Hermother had been right, the scarwasshrinking;butKatieknew itwouldnevergoaway. Itwouldalwaysbetheretoremindherthatshewaslivingbythegraceofastranger’sheartandtheskillofadedicatedsurgeon.Plus,thepillsshetookthreetimesaday were a constant reminder that she owed her daily existence to amicrobeascommonasdirt.Ofcourse,shewasgrateful.Whowouldn’tbe?Itwasjust—Justwhat?sheaskedherself.

Her thoughts drifted to JWC, the one person who truly understoodwhat learning to livewithhealth problemswas all about. The kinshipKatiefeltwiththismysteriouspersonwasuncanny.Nooneknewwhatherlifewaslike.Joshcametheclosest,butevenhecouldn’tgraspwhatcompromises she’d have to make in order to take advantage of the“new”lifehertransplanthadaffordedher.Katiethoughtaboutthemoney.Didn’teveryonedreamofwinningthelottery,orofhittingajackpot?Yet,whenitcamerightdowntoit,suchalargeamountofmoneyastheWishFoundationhadgiventohercamewithanequalamountofresponsibility.Itwasdifficultforhertodwellonspendingit,especiallyonsomethingthatdidn’tbenefithumanityinsomegrandway.“Iwanttohavesomefun,”Katiewhisperedtoherselfinthedark.Shewas tired of confinement, sick of rules about what she could andcouldn’tdo.She longedfor thedaysbeforeherheartbecamediseased.In those days, she’d been able to do anything shewanted, physically.She’dbeenabletorunlikethewind…Confused,frustrated,Katiecriedherselftosleep.Sometimelater,sheawoketothesoundofvoicescomingfromdownthehall.Groggily,Katie satupright.Thevoiceswere coming fromherparents’room,andtheysoundedangryandloud.

Fifteen

THE SOUND OF theirvoices roseand fell, andoccasionallyKatieheardhernamementioned.Alarmed,shetossedoffthecoversandscootedoutofher warm bed. Shivering, she wrapped her blue velvet robe aroundherselfandeaseddownthehallway.Theclosershegot toherparents’room,thelouderandmoredistincttheirvoicesbecame.“…can’tbelieveyou’dencouragesuchlunacy,Dan!”Katieheardher

mothershout.“Lunacy! Because she wants to resume a normal life? What’s crazy

aboutthat?”Katieheardherfathershoutback.“Anormallife,yes!Sheshouldhaveanormallife.Buttellme,what’s

normalaboutherrunninginracesthatcouldpossiblykillher?”“Where do you get yourmedical information, Barbara,The Farmer’s

Almanac? Runningwon’t kill her! If anything, it can help prolong herlife.”“Oh,givemeabreak!”Katieheardhermotherslamaclosetdoor,as

if topunctuateher sentence. “Katie isn’t your typical athleteanymore.Shewashoursawayfromdying,Dan,orhaveyouforgottenwhatitwaslike before her transplant? She couldn’t even shuffle across the floorwithoutanoxygenmask.”“No, I haven’t forgotten.” Her father’s voice sounded harsh. “I

remember every moment of that living hell. I’d sit in my office, andeverytimethephonerang,mystomachwouldtieinknots.Iwasafraiditwouldbeyou,tellingmeshe’dbeentakentothehospital—orworse—thatshewasdead.

“Barb, don’t you see?All that’s behind her now.”Her father’s voiceturnedcajoling.“Shehasabrand-newleaseonlife,andshewantsallthethings that she had before that lousy virus attacked her heart. Katie’ssmart;shewon’tact foolish.She’sanaturalathlete.Sheknowshowtotrainandhowtopaceherself.”“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Katie heard her mother answer,withanunmistakablehintoftearsinhervoice.“Youwouldallowhertorisk her life so that you can have your ‘jock’ daughter back,wouldn’tyou? It’s eating at you that Katie isn’t going to be your perfect littleathleticwondereveragain.”“That’s a low blow, Barb. And completely untrue. Is that what youhonestlythink?ThatallI’minterestedinisherathleticprowess?”“I think it’s a factor,” Katie’smother replied defiantly. “I think youmissherathleticstatus,thecommongroundthetwoofyoushared.”Katie’s heart hammered. She knew that she shouldn’t beeavesdropping,yetshecouldn’tdocilelyheadbackdownthehall,either.This argument betweenher parentsmight be setting the course of herlife.Shebracedherhandonthewall,waitingforherfather’scomeback.At last, she heard him say, “And what about you, Barb? How’s ithelpingKatietohaveyousmotheringhertodeath?”“Smothering her! I love her. I’m scared for her.We almost lost heronce. Iwon’tgo through thatagain just so shecan run ina few trackevents,sothatherfathercanwriteaboutherinhiscolumn.”“Forcryingoutloud!Givemesomecreditforalittlesense,willyou!IfKatieneverrunsanotherstep,ifshenevergoesawaytocollege,ifsheliveswithusfortherestofherlife,itwillbefinewithme.Iwouldlockher inherroombefore I’dallowher todoanythingtoharmherself inanyway.AllI’vebeentryingtotellyouisthatshe’sdeterminedtoliveas normal a life as possible. And for Katie, normal is running. As herparents, we’re going to have to make some kind of peace with hermedicalconditionandherwillpower.Ifwedon’t,weriskalienatinghercompletely.”“Andifwedo,shemaydie,”Katie’smothercountered.Katie had heard enough. She stole quietly back to her room and

slippedunder thecoverswithout takingoffherrobe.Shehuddled inaball,tryingtogetwarm,becauseshefeltachillthathadlittletodowiththe temperatureof theair. She layawake in thedark for a long time,pondering what she had overheard. It was obvious that her motherwouldneverbepersuaded that runningwasn’tgoing toharmher,andthat while her father saw Katie’s side more favorably, he probablywouldn’tgoagainsthiswife’swishes.Nor,Katietoldherself,woulditbefairofhertodividethem.Katieshivered,feelingmoredepressedthanever.Suddenly,thewordsfromherWish letter floated intohermemory.JWChadwritten,“…Icangiveyouonewish,assomeonedidforme.Mywishhelpedmefindpurpose,faith,andcourage.”Katieknewthatshealreadyhadapurpose.Shealsoknewthatshehadfaithinherselftoaccomplishherpurpose.Whatshedesperatelyneededwascourage.Sheknewthatthemoneyalonewouldn’tbuyit,buttakinghercuefromthesecretiveJWC,Katievowedtosearchforit—nomatterwhatitcosther.

“Ididn’tbelieveitwhenMelodytoldmeyouwerecominghereallbyyourself every morning,” Josh said, falling in alongside Katie as shejoggedaroundtheindoortrack.“Don’t set your workout pace by me,” Katie told him breathlessly,hardlyglancingoverathim.“I’llonlyslowyoudownandthrowyouoffyourtrainingschedule.”Josh’sarmdartedoutandstoppedherprogressaroundthetrack.“Whatareyoudoing?”Katieasked.“Letmego.”“Nottillyoutellmewhat’sgoingon.”Angry,shewhirledtofacehim.“Whatdoesitlooklike?I’mtraining—gettingbackinshapetoruncompetitively.”“Doesyourdoctorknow?Yourparents?”“Whoareyou?Mykeeper?”“Ihaveavestedinterestinyourwelfare,Katie,”Joshinsisted.“Why?Because I’m totingaroundyourbrother’sheart? It’smyheartnow.”

He looked as if she’d slapped him, making her regret her cuttingretort. “Look, Josh, I’mnotmad at you. It’s just that everybody keepstellingmewhattodo…what’sbestforme.Iwanttodecidewhat’sbestforme.I’mnotstupid,andIknowhowtotakecareofmyself.Iwouldnevertakeunnecessarychances.”Josh stared down at her, fighting against hundreds of emotions

bombardinghim.“Howlonghaveyoubeenworkingout?”“Aboutaweek.”“Youhaven’ttoldanyone,haveyou?”Katie scraped the toe of her running shoe against the surface of the

track.“Icomeatsix-thirty,beforeCoachandanyoftheteammembersshowupfortheirworkouts.”Helookedamazed.“Howdoyoumanagetosneakpastyourparents?I

knowhowtheyguardyou.”“It’seasy—Mom’stakenajobasafull-timesubstituteforsometeacher

onmaternityleaveatanelementaryschoolinthenextcounty.Shehastoleavethehousebysix-fifteentobeontime.AndDad’sbeenleavingaroundsixeverymorning,tryingtoworkextrahours.”Katie didn’t tell Josh that her parents were hardly speaking to one

anotherandthateachseemedgladnottohavetotalkoverthebreakfasttableastheyhadalltheirmarriedlife.Katiefeltthattheirestrangementwasher fault.And thatwas another reasonwhy shewanted to attendtheTransplantGames.Avacation for the threeof theminLosAngelesmightmakethemfeellikeafamilyagain.“Howdoyougethere?”Joshasked.“Iwalk.Idon’tlivethatfarfromtheschool.”Joshgroaned.“It’sfreezingcoldthattimeofthemorning.”“It’s not so bad.Melodywould pickme up and bringme if I asked

her,”Katieadded.“I’mafraidthat ifshedoes, though,hermotherwillstart asking questions about why she has to be here thirty minutesearliereveryday.”“Whydidn’tyouaskmetocomegetyou?”Katie shrugged. “I guess because I figured you’d be againstme, like

everybodyelse.”Josh placed both hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look up athim.“It’snotyouagainsttherestoftheworld,Katie.Allthepeopleinyourlifecareaboutyou.They’reconcernedforyou.”“IwanttorunintheTransplantGames,”shesaid,hotly.“Ihavetobeinconditioninordertocompete.IfIcompete,myparentswillwatchmeandunderstandthatI’mnotsomebreakabledoll—thatIwon’tkeeloverdeadbecausemyheartbeatgetsabovesixtybeatsperminute.”“Isyourdoctorawareofyourtrainingprogram?”Thistime,sheheldhertemper.“Dr.JacobyneversaidIcouldn’ttrain.He’sadoctor,Josh…moreconcernedwithhishandiworkthanwithmyhappiness.”“Whatdoyoumean?”“I’maprojectforhim.Acase.Astatistic.”“Youtoldmethathewascaringandunderstanding.”“He is—but—” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I can’texplainit.Doctorsseepeoplethroughtheeyesofsickness.Aslongasapatient needs them, they give them one hundred percent attention.Whenapatientgetswell,theymoveontothenextsickone.”“So,what’syourpoint?”Katie looked him squarely in the face. “I’m okay now—my heart’sworkingfine.Mybodyishealthy.Idon’tneedhimanymore…andhedoesn’tneedtohoveroverme.”“He would want to know how you’re caring for your body,” Joshinsisted.“Itoldyou,IfollowastrictdietandexerciseprogramsetupbyBarry.I’msimplyacceleratingtheprogramalittlebitsothatIcanattendtheTransplantGamesinJuly.”Joshgazeddownather,longandhard.“Youshouldn’tbedoingthisalone.Youshouldhaveatrainer.”Themen’sandwomen’s track teamswerebeginning to trickle in fortheirpreschoolworkouts.KatiesawMelody,Karen,andPatwalkingoutfrom the tunnel leading from the locker rooms.Her conversationwith

Joshhadtakenmostofherworkouttime.“Areyouvolunteering?”sheasked.“Me?” He felt himself jolt at her suggestion. “I’m not a coach. I

wouldn’tknowwhattodoifsomethinghappenedtoyou.”Katie tossed her dark hair defiantly. “Look, I can’t stand around

debating this.Here’s the bottom line: You can either helpme train orstayoutofmylife.”Sheturnedtowardthetunnel.“It’syourchoice,butwhetheryouhelpornot,I’mtraining.”

Sixteen

“SO, WHAT ARE the results of my latest biopsy? Is everything still fine?”KatieaskedDr.Jacoby.Shepurposefullysatonherhandstokeepthemfromflutteringnervously.“Don’tkeepmeinsuspense.”Dr.Jacoby’sbrowfurrowedashe flipped through the labreportson

hisdesk.“Hangon,”hesaid.Katie glanced over at her mother and noticed that her face looked

pinchedanddrawn.Shewasanxiousaboutthetests,too.Theresultsofeach biopsy became a benchmark for measuring the possibility ofrejection.Finally, Dr. Jacoby glanced up and smiled. “Perfect. Your tests look

perfect. Not only the biopsy, but your treadmill and endurance tests,too.”Hepeeredatheroverthetopofhisreadingglasses.“I’dsayyouseemtobeashealthyasanathleteinstricttraining.”Katie feltahot flashofcoloracrossher face.Shegavehermothera

sidelong glance, hoping her mom hadn’t seen her look of guilt. “I’vebeen following Barry’s instructions,” Katie replied cheerfully. “He’s agreattherapist.”AndJoshisaterrificcoach,sheaddedsilently.Afterfivemonthsofworkingout,shewasingreatphysicalshapeandclosetohernormal timeson the thousand-and fifteen-hundred-meter race events—herspecialties.Infact,shewasalmostbacktoherpre-illnessconditionineveryrespect.Dr. Jacoby shut the file folder and laid it atop his desk. “What’s on

yourmind,Katie?”Shewassurprisedthathe’dpickeduponherinnertensionsoreadily.

Shesneakedanotherpeekathermother,thenturnedbacktothedoctor.“IstillwanttorunintheTransplantGamesintwomonths.”Katie felt hermother’s instant disapproval when she asked, “Is thatwise?”Dr.Jacobystudiedthemboth.“Ihavenomedicalreasonforstoppingyou,”hesaidcarefully.Katiefeltherheart leapexpectantly.“Icanparticipate?Itwillbeallright?”“The Games are quite extraordinary. I’ve never attended thempersonally, but I’ve seen videotapes. Since the Kidney Foundationsponsorsthem,Iknowthatmedically,they’rewellsupervised.”Katiewascertainthathiscommentsaboutmedicalsafetywereforhermother’s sake, because she herself didn’t need convincing. “It’s like amini-Olympics,isn’tit?”sheasked,alsoforhermother’sbenefit.“Very much so. Except that there’s competition at all levels. Aparticipantdoesn’thavetobeafabulousathlete.There’sevenawalkingevent for those not in tip-top condition. Plus, there’s a five-kilometerfamilyfunraceforbothtransplantpatientsandtheirfamilies.”“A little something for everyone?” Katie’s mother asked. Her voicesoundedchilly,sarcastic.“Volleyball, bowling, table tennis, swimming, track and field—tomentionafew.Thepeoplewhogoseemtohaveaverygoodtime,”Dr.Jacobysaid.Katie’smotherstoodabruptly.“Thankyoufortheinformation.Now,ifthere’snothingelse,I’dliketogetKatiehome.”Katie felt the keen edge of disappointment. She’d thought that Dr.Jacoby’s strong endorsement of the games was approval for her toparticipate—maybe not at the level she desired to participate on, butapproval nevertheless.Whywas hermother being so stubborn?Didn’tsheunderstandwhatagoodtimetheycouldallhavetogether?Her mother didn’t speak about the visit to Dr. Jacoby’s until theyreached the house. Once inside, she tossed her keys onto the kitchentable and turned onKatie. “I don’t appreciate your puttingme on thespotthewayyoudidinthedoctor’soffice,”shesaid.

“Whatdoyoumean?”“ThewayyoubroachedthoseGameswithhim,thewayyoutriedtomanipulatehimintoendorsingyourparticipatingwasunfairtome.YouknowhowIfeelaboutit.”Katie trooped to the refrigerator and poured herself a large glass oforangejuice.“I’dbehard-pressednottoknowhowyoufeel.YouscowleverytimeImentiontheGames.Iwanttogo,Mom.IwantyouandDadtocome,too.Dr.Jacobyapprovesofthem,andyouheardhimsaythatIwasingoodshape.”“Iheardhimsaywhatyouwantedtohear.”Katiebangedherglassdownonthecountertop.“I’vesentawayfortheregistration forms and called about airline tickets. I can pay all ourexpenseswithmyWishmoney.”Hermother’smouth dropped open. “YourWishmoney? Is that howyou’replanningtowasteit—isthathowyou’regoingtopiddleitaway?On silly, insignificant things instead of the important things in yourlife?”Her mother’s reaction surprised Katie. They hadn’t discussed themoneysincebeforeheroperation.“YouoncesaidformetospenditonsomethingIwanted.Somethingexcitingforallofustodotogether.Thetrip won’t cost too much. There’ll be plenty left over. One hundredthousanddollarsisalotofmoney.”“Youbetit’salotofmoney,”hermothersnapped.“Moneythatcanbeputtoagoodcause—likecollege,ormedicalbills.”“Dadsaidhisinsurancecoveredmytransplant.”“Your operation, yes—but it’s not going to cover your immune-suppressantdrugsafterthefirstyear.”Shocked to learn that her father’s insurance coverage would berunningout,Katiesaid,“Itakealotofpills.Ican’tlivewithoutthem.”“That’sright.Andeveryoneofthosepillsisexpensive.Ayear’sworthis going to cost us around ten thousand dollars. Think of it. Tenthousanddollarsannually!That’swhyyourfatherandIareworkingsohard.Andnowyoucometomeandsayyouwanttozipoff toplayinsome silly games. ThatWishmoney canmean years ofmedication for

you,Katie.Whydon’tyouthinkaboutspendingittokeepyourselfaliveinsteadoffritteringitawayonfoolishness?”“Ididn’t know…”Katie stammered. “Ididn’tmean to cost youand

Dadsomuchmoney.I’msorry…reallysorry…”Suddenly, her mother looked stricken and ashamed. She placed her

handoverhermouthandbegantocrysoftly.Shesteppedawayfromthetable, came over to Katie, and scooped her into her arms. “Oh, baby,forgiveme,”shepleaded.“Ishouldhavenevertoldyouthat. I’dpayamilliondollars,andscrubfloorstoearnit,inordertokeepyoualive.I’msorry I sounded off. I didn’t mean a word of it. Please, forget I saidanything aboutmoney. Your father and I’ve been under such pressurelately.”Katie remembered the argument she’d overheardmonths before and

realizedthatherparentshadnevertrulyresolvedtheirdifferences.Theadditionalnewsaboutthelossofinsurancebenefitsmustbeputtinganadditional burden on them. “I had no idea my pills cost so muchmoney,”Katiesaid.HermotherpulledawayandlookeddeeplyintoKatie’seyes.“Idon’t

care about the money. All that’s important is you,” she insisted. “I’mafraidtheGamesmightbedangerousforyou.”Surely, JWC had known about the expense in keeping a transplant

patientalive,Katiethought.That’sprobablywhyshe’dbeenselectedtoreceive a check in the first place. Yet, even though that idea crossedKatie’smind,shesimultaneouslyrecalledsomethingJWChadsaidintheletter:“Usemygifttofulfillyourwish.”Deepdown,sheknewshedidn’twant to spendall hermoney on immune-suppressantmedications, nordidshebelieveherbenefactorwouldhavewantedherto.Katie grasped her mother’s hands. “Mom, don’t you see what’s

happened to us? We’ve all become so involved with my medicalproblems thatwe’venot takenany time to ‘stopand smell the roses’.”Katieusedoneofhergrandmother’sfavoritephrases.“Iagree—Ishouldusesomeofthemoneytohelpwithmymedicalexpenses.”“Honey,no—”Katieignoredhermother’sinterruption.“Wait.Hearmeout.Iwantto

help.ButIalsowanttospendsomeofitonhavingagoodtime.Ireally

thinkthat’swhyJWCgavemethemoneyinthefirstplace.Whoeverthispersonis,heorsheunderstandswhatit’sliketobesickenoughtodie.Ifigurethat’swhyJWCgivesmoneyaway—sothatpeoplewhoaresickcanhavesomefun.”Katie’s tone had grown passionate. “You know, Mom, until thishappenedtome,Ididn’tappreciatewhatasickpersonhastogothroughdaybyday.Ididn’tappreciatelivinguntilIalmostdied.”Tears shimmered in hermother’s eyes. “I neverwant to have to gothroughthefearoflosingyouagain.”“Maybeyouwon’t,”Katiesaid.“Wedon’tknow,becausenoonecansee the future. All I know is that right now, I’m alive and well andhappy.And Iwantusall togo to theGames,and Iwant to runagaincompetitively.Iwon’thurtmyself.I’llbesensibleandcareful.IfyouandDaddyarewithme,I’llhavetobe,won’tI?”Her mother smiled sheepishly. “Your father tells me I’m much tooprotective.”“Ifyougotanycloser,we’dbeSiamesetwins,”Katiesaid,mixingthetruthwithhumor.“Igetyourpoint.”Hermotherfumbledforapapernapkinandwipedhereyes.“So,you’vecheckedeverythingoutfortheGames?”sheaskedinresignation.“The travel agent I talked to is working up a package deal—flight,hotel,theworks.”“Forthethreeofus?”Katiehesitatedbrieflybeforeplungingahead.“Actually,forusandforJosh,too.Ithinkheshouldcome—andGrampsifhewants.ButJoshforsure.HelovedAaronsomuch,anditwouldbeprettyspecialtohimifhecouldseemerun.”Hermothernodded.“You’reright,ofcourse.Hedeservestocome.Inaroundaboutway,he’sthereasonyou’realive.”Katiegavehermotherahug.“Whydon’tyoucallDaddyandtellhimwe’regoingonavacation?ThenI’llcallJoshandthetravelagent.We’regoing to have the time of our lives, Mom—thanks to someone whoseidentityIdon’tevenknow.”

Seventeen

“HOW’SYOURROOM?Doyoulikeit?Areyouhavingagoodtime?”KatiewasallbutdancinginthecorridoroftheluxuryhotelasshefiredquestionsatJosh.“Quit bobbing around,” Josh said with a laugh. “You’re giving me

motionsickness.”Heproppedhisarmsoverhershoulders tosettleherdown.“Myroom’sfine.Andyours?”“Thebest.MomandDad’sisnice,too.”“Yougoteverybodyaseparateroom?”“Howmanykidswouldwanttobunkwiththeirparents?”Katiemade

a face to underscore her point. “Too bad Gramps didn’t come,” sheadded.“Itmeantalottohimthatyouasked,butbetweenus,Ithinkthetrip

wouldhavebeentoomuchforhim.Hesaid, ‘If theGoodLordwantedpeopletofly,he’dhavegiventhemwingsinsteadofarms.’”Katie laughed at Josh’s perfect imitation of Gramps’s voice. “Also, I

thinkhewasafraidtoleavehisrosegardenfortoolong,”Joshsaid.“Well, anyway, you came,” Katie said. When she’d first asked him,

he’dbeenhesitant.“Ihavetoworkthissummer,”he’dtoldher.“Ineedtosavemoneyfor

school.”She’dassuredhimthatthetripwouldcosthimnothingandhadtold

him about theWishmoney—which greatly impressed him. “The trip’smy treat,” shehad insisted. “Andwe’llonlybegone fourdays.You’vegottherestofthesummertowork.”

Looking down at her in the hallway, Josh could hardly believe thattheywereactuallyinLosAngeles.“Melodywantedtocome,too,butshehadsomespecialfamilyreunioncomingup,”Katiesaid.“Thisway,Iwon’thavetoshareyou,”Joshreplied,andwinked.“AsI’vehadtoshareyouwithmyfather,”Katieteased.“Thetwoofyoutalkedduringthewholeflight.”“Ilikeyourdad.”JoshfoundKatie’sfathereasytolike.Hetalkedtohimlikeanadult,askedhisopinion,andrespecteditwhenJoshgaveit.IfonlyhehadafatherlikeMr.O’Roark…“My dad was pretty impressed with your track season,” Katie said.“AnnArborwillbeacontenderforStatenextyear.”“Thegirls’teamwouldhavedonebetterifyoucouldhaverun.”“Next year,” Katie declared. “When I’m a senior, I’ll be back on theteam.”“Itseemstomeyoudoeverythingyousetyourmindon,Katie.”“Daddysaysit’snothingbutIrishbullheadednessandthatit’saveryunfemininetrait.”Shetippedherchinupwardandgrinned.“Maybehe’sright.”Josh wanted to tell her that she was anything but unfeminine orunattractive. When he’d first started training with her months before,he’ddonesopartlyoutoffearforherlife,fearoflosinghisonelinktoAaron. Josh wasn’t sure when his feelings began to change, he onlyknewthattheyhadchanged.BeingwithKatiewasaconstantadventure—a six-month joy ride for him. Her determination, her grit, herdedication impressedhim.She’dworkedharder thananyonehe’d everseentogetinshapefortheTransplantGames.OnlyJoshknewthatshehadn’tcomemerelytocoastaroundatrackforappearance’ssake.KatieO’Roark had come to win. He felt a little guilty for not sharing hisknowledgewith her parents, but his first loyaltywas to Katie, and heknewshe’dworkedtoohardtohaveanythingaborthergrandscheme.“Areyoulisteningtome,Josh?”Katie’squestionquicklydraggedJoshoutofhisthoughts.“Sure.”Hisfaceflushed.“Whatdidyousay?”Katiepunchedhisarm.“Isaidthataccordingtothebrochure,there’s

going to be a big fiestawith dancing tonight. Doesn’t that sound likefun?”“What’safiesta?”“Aparty,silly!Canyoudance?”Herockedbackonhisheels.“You’lljusthavetowaitandfindout.”She shoved him playfully and darted quickly inside her hotel roombefore he could retaliate. “See you tonight,” she called. “And you’dbetterknowhowtodance,buster!”ThefiestawasheldontheUCLAcampus,outside,underthestars.Thesmells of sizzling ribs and chicken filled the air, and colored lanternsswung over tables draped in checkered cloths. Music from a Mexicanband, playing in front of a wooden dance floor set up on the grass,floatedabovelaughterfromgroupsofpeoplegatheredonthesprawlinglawn.“Ineverdreamedthere’dbesomanypeople,”Katieheardhermothersayastheycrossedthegrassyfield.Katie, holding Josh’s hand, felt euphoric. The number of peopleamazedher,too.Everybodylookedsonormal,sohealthy.Shecouldn’tbegin toevenguesswhichoneswereorganrecipients likeherself.Thefour of them chose seats at a tablewith several strangers, and after aroundof introductions,Katieknew that shewas sharingdinnerwithaheart-lung,aliver,andtwokidneytransplantrecipients.Shediscoveredthat these peopleweremuch like herself—very grateful to donors andtheirfamilies,withoutwhom,theywouldallbedead.Beside her, Josh remained quiet as the others shared their stories.Afterawhile,sheleanedoverandaskedhim,“Howaboutthatdance?”Thedancefloorwasfull,butKatiehardlynoticed.InJosh’sarms,shefelt as if theywere all alone. “Did the conversationdepress you?” sheaskedintuitively.“Alittle,”headmitted.“Ifeelkindofstrangebeinghere.Noneoftheothersseemedtoknowwhotheirdonorswere,likeyoudo.”“Itsoundedtomeasifsomeofthemwantedto,though.”“Are you glad you do?” His gaze was serious, and Katie stoppedswayingwiththemusic.

“YouknowIam.”“When I looked at them, I couldn’t help wondering if any of them

mightholdpartsofAaron.”Shecouldtellhewastroubled,andunabletoputintowordswhathewasfeeling.“Canwetakeawalk?”heasked.“Letme tellmyparents,”Katie said. She scanned the crowded floor

andsawthemstandingatafarcorner.Hermotherwaswrappedinherdad’s arms, her eyes closed, her head resting on his shoulder.Hewasholdinghertightly,strokingherhairwithonehand.Theyseemedtobedancingtomusiconlytheycouldhear.“Idon’tthinkthey’llmissus,”Joshsaid.“Me,either.”Thepictureof themwarmedKatie.They lookedhappy

togetheronceagain.KatiewalkedwithJoshacrossthelawn,awayfromthebuildings,and

into a cluster of trees. The sounds from the band grew fainter, andabove,throughthebranchesofpinetrees,shecouldseethestars,spreadout like diamonds on black velvet. When they stopped, Josh angledhimselfagainstatreetrunk.Hetookholdofbothherhands.“You stillmissAaron, don’t you?”Katie asked, breaking the silence,

urginghimtotalkabouthisfeelings.“It’sbeenhardwithouthim,allright.Hewasmybigbrother,andhe

tookcareofme.”“Thewayyoutakecareofme?”A ghost of a smile crossed Josh’s face. “He never nagged theway I

do.” Josh sobered. “Katie, Aaron was more than my brother. He wasmorelikemyfather.”Katie’s heart thudded. She’d wondered about his family a million

times.“Howso?Didhehelpraiseyou?”“Heprotectedme.”“Fromwhat?”“Noteverybodyhasparentswhocarethewayyoursdo,Katie.”“Youhadabadhomelife?”Theideawasforeigntoher.“Bothmyparentsarealcoholics.”Hetookalong,shudderingbreath.

“PopbeatuponMomallthetime.”

Horrified,Katieasked,“YouandAaron,too?”“No—just her. Over the years, I lost all respect for her because shewouldn’t leave him, not even now, when she can. It’s like a trap shecan’tgetoutof…thatshedoesn’twantoutof.Idon’tunderstandher,orhim.”Joshshookhisheadtoclearoutthepainfulmemories.“Whenevershewoundupinthehospital,Aarontookcareofthetwoofus.Hecooked,didlaundry…whateverneededdoing.”“It’s hard to believe you had a violent home life. You’re so gentle,Josh.”Helookedintohereyes.“That’sAaron’sdoing,too.HetriedtostickupforMom.Heusedtotellmethatweshouldn’teverthinkbeatingupon somebodywas okay.When he was fifteen, he started going to Al-Anonmeetings,andhetookmewithhim.”KatieknewvaguelythatAl-Anonwasthesupportgroupforfamiliesofalcoholics.“There,webothlearnedhownottobelikeourfather.”Katie’sheartwasbreakingforhim.NowonderthelossofAaronhadbeensodifficultforhim!He’dlosthisonlytruefamilywhenAarondied.“You’rethemostwonderfulpersonIknow,Josh.”He toyedwith the flower behind her ear. “IwishAaron could haveknownyou.Iwishhecouldhaveknownwherehisheartendedup.”“Hedoes,” shewhispered.Without takingher eyes fromJosh’s face,she liftedhishandandplaceditgentlybeneathher leftbreast,againstthetopofherribcage.Sheknewhecouldfeelthedistinctthumpingofherheart,justasshewasfeelingit.“Thisheartisonlyanorgan,Josh.Avery specialpump, issuedatbirth toevery livingbeing.ThepersonofAaronisn’taliveinsidethispieceoftissue.He’saliveinsideyou.You’retheonekeepingAaronalive,notme.Andsolongasyourememberhim,he’llalwaysbealive.”Josh concentrated on the throb of Katie’s beating heart beneath hispalm,thewarmthofherskinthroughthefabricofherblouse.Withouttakinghisgazefromherbeautifulface,hesaid,“Iloveyou,Katie.”“And I loveyou.”Sheknewitwas true.She lovedJoshMartel fromthedepthsofhersoul.

“Ihaveapresentforyou,”hesaid.“Forme?”Hereached intohispocketandpulledoutasmall, flatbox.Eagerly,

shetoreoffthepaperandraisedthelid.Themoonlightcaughtonathinsilverchainholdingaheart-shapedlocket.“Ithoughtyoucouldaddittoyourheartcollection,”hesaid.“AlongwithAaron’sandmine.”Katie felt tearsswimming inhereyes.“It’s sobeautiful.Thankyou.”

Shecouldscarcelybreatheashefasteneditaroundherneck.“Thisisreallyfortomorrow,”hesaid.“Afteryouwinthatrace.”Josh

slippedhisarmsaroundherandloweredhislipstohers.Katieheldherbreath,closedhereyes,andsavoredthesensationofhis

mouthagainsthers.“Isitlikekissingyourbrother?”sheteased,pullingslightlyback.“Notevenclose,”hetoldher,thenkissedheragain.

Eighteen

KATIEWALKEDAROUNDthetrackintheParadeofAthletes,wavingatcheeringfans.Shefeltthesun’swarmthonherheadandshoulders,andthesoftsummer breeze in her hair. Seeing her fellow competitors dressed inbright, colorful athletic gear filled herwith an overwhelming sense ofpride and exuberance. I made it! she told herself. Thank you, JWC.BecauseoftheOneLastWishFoundation,inafewhoursshewouldbecompeting against some fifteen other female athletes in the thousand-meterfootrace.Shewaved to the crowd as her gaze drifted upward to theOlympic

torchpositionedhighabovethestands,directlybelowthescoreboardoftheUCLAstadium.Minutesbefore,a ten-year-oldkidney recipienthadrun from the tunnel, carrying a lighted flare. Katie could still feel theremainsofthelumpinherthroatasshe’dwatchedtheboyjogaroundthetrack,sprintupthestairs,andlighttheflame,signifyingthestartoftheGames.As she rounded the final turn of the parade, she saw Josh hanging

over the wall of the stands. Elsewhere in the crowd, she knew herparentswerewatching.Theyhadcometobreakfastthatmorninginthehotelrestaurantsmilingcontentedly,causingKatieandJoshtoexchangesly, knowing glances. Katie realized that at some point during thepreviousnight,they’dresolvedalltheirdifferences.ShewasgratefultoJWCforthat,too.Once the parade broke up and the various events began, Josh leapt

down from the wall and came over to her. “You doing all right?” heasked.

“I’mnervous.”Hedrapedatowelaroundherneck,“ThewayIfigureit,you’veonlygot about three serious contenders in your race. One woman’s fromMaine,andshe’sverygood.She’san internationalrunnerwitha lotofvisibility.”Katie’s heart sank. She’d known when she’d elected to run in theseniorwomen’scategoryinsteadofthejunioronethatitwouldbetoughgoing,butshe’dwantedtoreallytestherself,notjusttakeawin.“Andtheothers?”sheasked.“They’reofsimilarcaliber—verygoodandveryseasoned.”“I’mnotgoingtochangecategories,”Katiesaid.“Ididn’t expect you to. I’monly tellingyouwhatyou’reupagainst.Thesewomenhaveruninthisracebefore,andtheonefromMaine,FranBonita, won the Outstanding Female Athlete Award for this entireOlympicslastyear.”“Wheredopeoplegettheideathattransplantrecipientsareinvalids?”Katiegrumbled,shakingherhead.“I’llbetsomeoftheseathletescouldoutdosomeofthecountry’sprofessional,‘normal’ones.”“I’ll bet you’re right,” Josh said with a grin. “I’m glad I’m notcompeting—I’dprobablygetwhipped.”Katieheardherfatherhailherfromthestands.Shefollowedthewallalong the track, stopped, and lookedupathim. “Youneedanything?”herdadasked.“I’m fine,Dad,”Katie said, her tonemore patient than her attitude.“Joshiskeepinganeyeonme.”“Ifigurethatyourracewillwrapupintimeformetofaxmycolumnbacktothepaper,”hetoldherwithasmile.“You’re going towrite about this?”Katie tried to soundpiqued, butsecretly,shewaspleased.“YoubetI’mwritingaboutit.Thewholeworldneedstoknowabouttheseathletes.”“AndifIjusthappentowinarace…?”“I’llgiveyouaquickmention.”Heshruggedinnocently.

“Oh,Daddy!”Helaughedandheadedbackuptojoinhiswife.Joshtouchedherarm.“You’dbetterstartwarmingup.Yourraceisupsoon.”Bythetimeherracewascalled,Katie’smuscleswerelimber,butherstomachwastiedinknots.Shepacedtheinfield,whileJoshencouragedherwithapeptalk.“Don’ttrytosetthepace.Hangbackandseehowtheothersarerunning.Whenyouhearthatbelllap,you’vegottohaveplenty in reserve. Just remember tokickhighall theway to thewire.You’regood,Katie,andIthinkyoucanwin.”“DoyoureallythinkI’mgood?You’venevertoldmethatbefore.”“I’veonly seenyou runagainst the clock,but I knowyou’regood—I’ve read your father’s columns.” His honey-brown eyes twinkledmischievously.She slugged his arm. “Wait until I’m a famous runner. Then you’llwishyou’dbeennicertome.”Josh’s expression sobered. “You’re going to do just fine out there.Remember,you’vegotatraditiontouphold.Aaronwasanathlete,too,soIknowyouhaveanathlete’sheart—inmorewaysthanone.”Katie raisedupandkissedJoshquickly.“Thanks,Coach—seeyouatthefinishline.”AsJoshwatchedherjogtowardthetrack,hisstomachknotted.She’dworked so hard these past several months, but he had no way ofknowinghowshewoulddo.Heonlyhopedthatshe’drunwellandnotaffect her transplanted heart in any way. He realized that he’d beenmorethanhercoachforhertrainingprocess.He’dbeenheraccomplice.Ifanythinghappenedtoherduringthisrace,hewouldn’tbeabletolivewithhimself.“Hanginthere,Katie,”hewhisperedtohimself.“Andgoforthegold.”Katietiedherlonghairintoaponytail,makingcertainthatherbangswerewelloffherface.Perspirationtrickleddownbetweenhershoulderblades.Shewasmorenervousforthisracethanforanyraceshe’deverruninhighschool,includingthedistrictfinalsinhersophomoreyear.As she continued to keep her muscles limber, she cut her eyes

sideways towardher opponents. FranBonita ofMainewas a standout.Shewasleanandhard-limbed,afinerunningmachineinprimephysicalcondition.Katietookadeepbreath.Whathadshebeenthinkingaboutwhenshe’ddecidedtorunintheseniorwomen’sdivision?Shecouldn’tcompeteseriouslywithgrownwomen!A track official blew his whistle and beckoned the runners to the

starting line. Katie glanced toward the stands. A sea of cheering facesgreetedher,andshefeltheradrenalinesurge.“Inthreeminutes,itwillbe all over,” she told herself, taking her place on the line.Months oftrainingallcamedowntothismoment.Not all the runners were serious about winning, Katie reminded

herself.Somewererunningsimplytosaythattheyhadcompeted.Theywould be easy to beat. Katie leaned forward, holding her breath, Sheheardherbloodpoundinginherears.Shefeltlikeacat,sleekandtaut,ready to test thewind.Sheknewshewas fit,knewthatherheartwasstrongandcapable.Eyesstraightahead,shestareddownthetracktothefirst turn, plotting her race strategy. The starter’s gun went off, thecrowdroared,andKatiesprangforward.She quickly settled into her pace, allowing others to pass her,

believingtheleaderswouldburnoutbeforethefinish.Thepackroundedthefirstturnandstretchedoutinaline.Katiecontrolledherbreathing,holding theair inher lungsand then releasing it fromherdiaphragm.Sherefusedtocheckonheropponents,knowingitcouldundermineherown race. From the corner of her eye, she saw a woman coming onstrong.Takeiteasy,shewarnedherself.Itwasn’tFran.Katie concentrated on the feel of her running shoes pounding the

surfaceofthetrack.Sheswungherarmsandkeptherbodyunderrigidmentalcontrol.Thewindwhippedher face,herbreathscame fastanddeep.Thecrowdanditsnoiseevaporatedasshefocusedallherenergyontherace.She came around the track twice, continuing to gauge her pace,

holding back, reining in, saving herself for the final surge that mustcomedown the stretch for the finish line.Timingwas everything.Toofastandshe’dburnout,havenothingleftinreserve.Notfastenoughandshe’dfalltoofarbehindtocatchtheleaders.Mentally,sheheardJosh’s

voice from all her months of training. “Hold back,” he’d shout. Or“Pump,pump!”Thedinofthebelllapsounded,andKatieknewitwastimetomakehermove.She reacheddeepandstretched further.Shepulledpast thefront-runner and cut to the inside lane. She could see the finish line,could feel the victory, when from out of nowhere, she saw the flyingarmsofFranBonita.Shewasgoing tocatchher,passher.Katie feltamomentofpanic.Shewasgivingallshehad,andstillthewomanbesideherwaspullingahead.“Reach, Katie, reach!” Through a haze, she heard Josh’s voice loudandstrong.Sheranhard.Herlungsscreamedinprotest,butKatiepaidthemnoheed.Shefeltherheartpounding,andinthatmoment,shesawthe faceofAaronMartel inhermind’seye.Hewasgrinning,as inhisgraduation photo, urging her on, propelling her forward. Suddenly, itwasasifshe’dgrownwings.Katiepressedherbodyforward,andlikeanarrowsplittingthewind,herchesthitthetapeafull lengthinfrontofheropponent.

Nineteen

AS SHE CROSSED the finish line,Katieheard the roarof thecrowd throughthe rushing surgeofblood inher ears.A trackofficialhurriedover toher,hisstopwatchinhishand.“Areyouallright,girl?Ithinkyoubrokesomerecords!Whatasensationalrace!”Katie gasped for air, nodding, trying to clear her head and regain

control ofherpoundingheart. Suddenly, shewas caught frombehind,spun, and scoopedup in Josh’s arms. “Youwon,Katie! Youwon, big-time!”Shetriedtosmile,butherlegsfeltrubberyandshecouldn’tcatchher

breath.“Givehersomeroom,”Joshyelledtothecrowdgatheringaroundher.

Hewalkedwith her, rubbingher shoulders andwrapping awet toweloverherneck.“Youokay?”“Neverbetter,”Katiemanagedbetweenpuffsofair. “It felt sogood,

Josh. So good to run. I didn’t think I was going to pull ahead in thestretch,but then I thoughtaboutAaron,and itwasas ifhewerewithme.Hegavemethatextraedgetopunchthrough.”Joshsqueezedhershoulders.“Youdidit,Katie.Itwasyourrace,your

heart.”She felt someonenudgeherand turned to seea sweat-streakedFran

Bonita.Thewomanheldoutherhand.“Youwereawesome,”Fransaid.“I’ve run in a lot of races and faced some keen competition. I neverexpectedtofacearunnerofyourcaliberataplaceliketheTransplantGames.Congratulations.”

Katie shookherhand, feelingdazzled. “Youwereagreat incentive,”shesaid.“Ihopetomeetyouonthetrackagain.”“Nextyear!”shecalledasFranwalkedaway.Franturnedandgrinned.“Forsure.”Katiesawherparentsrushingtowardher.Foramoment,shechilled,unsure of how they were going to react. Her mother threw her armsaroundher.“Youwerewonderful!Absolutelywonderful!”“Youaren’tmad?”“I’mfurious,butwhatcanIdoaboutit?”Hermotherwassmilingandcryingat thesametime.“I’msoproudofyou,honey.Youalwayssaidyouwereborntorun.”ShehuggedKatieagain.Her father ruffled her hair, his face a beaming smile. “You’re somerunner,KatieO’Roark. It’s official—you camewithin two-tenths of thewomen’s collegiate record for the thousand-meter. And you’re onlysixteen!I’mspeechless.”“Idoubtthat!”Katiesaid,laughing.Later,whenshestoodontheplatformforthemedalceremony,Katie’seyes swept the crowd.This time, she picked out her parents instantly.Theywereholdingabannerthatread:KATIEGOTTHEGOLD.Shegrinned.Joshstoodbelowtheplatformonthebrightgreengrass.Hegaveherathumbs-upastheofficialsslippedthegoldmedalaroundherneck.Katieknew it wasn’t a real goldmedal like from the official Olympics, butnothingcouldconvinceherthatitmeantanyless.Foraninstant,shefelttime stand still as she savored the sweetness of her victory, then sheraised both arms above her head, and the crowd went wild withcheering.

The next evening at the closing banquet, Katie felt pangs of regret.“It’shardtobelieveit’sallover,”sheremarkedtoJoshandherparents.“We’ve all had a great time,” her mother said. “I’m very glad wecame.” She and Katie exchanged looks of understanding, eachremembering their argument about the Wish money. Wherever JWCwas,Katiehopedheorsheknewhowmuchjoythemoneyhadgivento

Katie andher family. She still longed tomeet her benefactor, butwascertainbythistimethatsheneverwould.Forwhateverreason,JWChadchosen to remain anonymous. Silently, Katie wished her secretphilanthropistthebestthatlifecouldbring.“AreyouKatieO’Roark?”Theman’squestionsnappedKatiefromhermusings.Shelookeduptoseealarge,heavysetman.“Yes,Iam.”“I’mPhil Stoner,women’s track coach atArizonaState.”HenoddedgreetingstoJoshandherparents.“IwasprettyimpressedbywhatIsawyoudoonthetrackyesterday.”Katiesmiled.“Thanks—Ilovetorun.”“Thatwasobvious,”hesaidwithalaugh.“TheGoodLordmadeyoufast,Katie,andmedicalsciencegaveyouanewlife.”“Aheart,”shesaid,wonderingifhe,too,wasatransplantrecipient.Almostasifhe’dreadhermind,thecoachadded,“Mysonovertheregotakidneyeightyearsago.”Hemotionedtowardamaninhisthirties,sittingwithayoungwomanandthreelittlegirls.“Jimwasdying.He’dbeenondialysisfortwoyears,buthiskidneyscontinuedtofail.Hewasleavingbehindhisfamily,hiswholefuture.”“Hewasfortunatetofindadonor,”Katiesaid.“I was his donor,” Phil told her with a beaming smile. “It was thegreatestfeelingintheworld—knowingthatIcouldgivemysonasecondchanceatlife.”Katiefeltgoosebumpsskitteralongherarms.“IsupporttheTransplantGameswholeheartedly,”Philwenton.“Theworldneedstoknowthatpeoplewithorgantransplantsareverynormalpeople, grateful to be alive. Anyway, when I came this year, I neverimaginedI’dseetherace Isawyesterday. Iwantyoutokeepintouchwithme.”Hereyesgrewwide.“DoyouthinkIcouldgetascholarshipfortrack?Evenwithahearttransplant?”The coach laughed. “You’d be the secretweapon of some collegiatecoach’sarsenal,Katie.Ofcourse,youcould.Coachespickathleteswho

canwin.Andyou’reawinner.”She felt Josh reach under the table and grasp her hand. “We’re all

winners,”shereplied,squeezinghisinreturn.Later,duringthebanquet,whenspecialawardsweregivenout,Katie

received one for Best New Participant. She cradled it in her arms,knowing itwouldgetaplaceofhonoron the shelves inherbedroom.Afterward, shehuggedother recipientswarmly,promising to return totheGamesnextyearandruninmoreraces.“It’shardtosaygood-bye,”KatieconfidedtoJoshastheyreturnedto

theirhotel.“There’salwaysnextyear,”hesaid.Katiedidn’tremindhimthatforsomeofthem,therewouldbenonext

year.For in spiteof theirgoodhealth,medications,doctors, tests, andtechnological advancements, all of themwere carrying around foreignorgansinsidetheirbodies—organsthatcouldrejectatanytime,leavingthemindesperateneedofanewdonor,ordead.At noon the next day, Katie, Josh, and her parents boarded a plane

andflewhometoMichigan.

*

Oncehome, inspiteofherreluctance,Katiebecameaminicelebrity.Thepaperdidafront-pagestoryonher,twoTVstationsinvitedhertobe a guest on special programs devoted to community events, andseveralradiostationsdidliveinterviewswithher.“You look fabulous on the tube,”Melody told her as she spent one

rainy afternoon in Katie’s bedroom, hearing all about Los Angeles.“MaybeIcouldbeyourgroupie.”“Very funny. I’monly doing this to help give publicity to the organ

donationprogram.YouknowhowIhatethislimelightstuff.”Melodymadeaface.“Partypooper.HasOprahcalledyet?”Katieboppedherontheheadwithapillow,sendingthetwoofthem

rollingandgigglingonthefloor.“You are returning to dull Ann Arbor High in the fall, aren’t you?”

Melodyaskedaftertheirtussle.“Youbet.We’regoingtotakestatehonorsintrackthisyear.”“Ithinkwecan,”Melodyagreed.Shepaused,beforeasking,“HowareyouandJosh?”Katie fingered the silver locket around her neck. “Crazy about eachother.Melly,Ifeelliketheluckiestpersonintheworld.”Thatnight,whenJoshcameover,shetookhimoutsidetotheswingonher frontporch.Theysatclose togetherwhile thesoft scentsof thesummer night folded around them and fireflies blinked from the frontlawn. Katie handed him a large, flat box, which she plucked from itshiding place under a nearby table. “Now, it’s my turn to give you apresent,”shesaid.“Forme?”Helookedgenuinelysurprised.“Forposterity,”sheteasedmysteriously.Heopenedtheboxandliftedoutalargescrapbook.“I’vebeenworkingonitformonths.”Josh flipped it open. His breath caught. She’d written a dedicationpage, which read: “To the Life and Courage of Aaron Martel.” Everypagewasfilled,notonlywiththephotoshehadlenther,butwithotherphotographs and with newspaper clippings about Aaron’s high schoolandbriefcollegiateathleticcareers.AlargeknotofemotionwedgedinJosh’s throat.Whenhewas able to clear it out, he asked, “Where didyougetallthisstuff?”“Yourgrampshelpedgettheextrapicturesforme,andDaddyhelpedwith the articles. He got them from your newspaper back in Indiana,fromtheiroldfiles.AndthecoachatMichiganisafriendofDad’s,sohewasabletosupplythecollegeinformation.Ileftsomepagesblankinthebackincaseyouwanttoaddanypersonalstuff.”Shereachedoutandstrokedhis cheekwith thebackofherhand. “Doyou like it?Areyousurprised?”Toanswerher,heputthebookaside,tookherinhisarms,andkissedherwithall the feelinghehadstoredupand lockedaway inhisheartthroughouthislifetime.

*

Inthemiddleofthenight,Katieawokefeelingchilledanddisoriented.Herteethchattered,andherheadhurt.Shepulledthecoversuptoherchin, thinking thatmaybe the air conditionerwasmalfunctioning, butshe couldn’t get warm. The next morning, when her mother came tocheckonher,Katiewashuddledbeneaththecovers.Hermothertookonelookatherandblanched.“Katie,what’swrong?”TearsfilledKatie’seyes,andfearfilledhermind.“I’msick,Mom,”she

said.“You’dbettercallthedoctor.”

Twenty

“IT’SAFLUvirus,”Dr.Jacobysaid.HestoodatthesideofKatie’shospitalbed,examininglabreports.“Theflu’sprettycommon,”Katiesaid,hopefully.“Youshouldhaveme

upandaroundinnotime,shouldn’tyou?”Theworriedexpressionsonherparents’faceswereupsettingher.She

wantedtochaseawaytheirfears,sosheselectedthewordsofassuranceshelongedtohearfromherdoctor.Dr.Jacobycontinuedtofrown.“Noillness is simple for you, Katie. Remember, you’re taking immune-suppressants, and they make you highly susceptible to sickness andinfections.”Yetwithout the suppressants, her heartwould certainly reject.Katie

felt caught in a vicious cycle. “What about the results of her heartbiopsy?”HermotheraskedthequestionKatiehadfearedasking.Dr.JacobyglancedupfromKatie’smedicalchart.“It’sshowingmild

rejection.”Katiefeltsicktoherstomach.“That’sbad,isn’tit?”sheasked.“Whilerejectionisalwaysathreat,episodesaren’tuncommonwhena

patientundergoesaninfectionorillness,suchasyou’reexperiencing.”“Whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?”“We’llincreaseyourimmune-suppressantdosesandseeifthatdoesn’t

turnitaround.”“Andifitdoesn’t?”Katiepersisted.“Let’snotborrowtrouble.”Dr.Jacobypattedherarm.

Katie felt coldness snake along her insides. She understood that asecondhearttransplantwasunlikelyforherbothbecauseofthescarcityofdonorheartsandbecauseofherbloodtype.Aaron’shearthadcometoherthroughanoddchainofeventsthatwouldn’tlikelyberepeated.Also,Katie realized thatwhile a kidneypatientwho rejected could gobackondialysis,therewasnomagicalmachinecapableofkeepingheralive until a new donor could be found—there was no mechanicalsubstituteforthehumanheart.Asupsetasherparentswere,nothingpreparedKatieforthedegreeofJosh’s anguish. When he came to see her, he looked terrified. Shewantedtoassurehimthatshe’dbeallright,butknewshecouldn’t lie.Hetookherhandandheldittightly,asifhisgripmightpullherawayfrom the darkness threatening her. “Don’t leave me, Katie,” hewhispered.Weak as she was, she reached up and smoothed the hair on hisforehead.“Noregrets,okay?”“Why,Katie?Everythingwasgoingsoperfect—whydid thishave tohappen?”“I don’t know.” Shemoistened her lips. She felt weak and feverish,anditwasdifficulttoconcentrate,buttherewassomethingshewantedJoshtoknow.“IfIhaditalltodooveragain,Iwould.Everybitofit.Thesurgery…thepain…thefear…therecovery…theisolation—allofitwasworthit,Josh,becauseitgavemeanothershotatlife.”Joshstartedtospeak,butshesilencedhimwithalook.“Hearmeout.Everyday, everyminute that I’vehad,hasbeenwonderful. Iwouldn’ttradeitforanything,andI’ddoitallagainifIgotthechance.Thinkofit, Josh. I’ve been living—really living—with another person’s heartinsidemychestforalmostayear.Isn’tthatextraordinary?”Josh watched her eyes shut as she slipped into a world of dreamswherehecouldn’tgo.Heheldherhandandstruggledwithbone-chillingfear.“Staywithme,”hewhispered,rememberingwhathisgrandfatherhadtoldhimthenightofAaron’sfuneral.You’llbehappyagain,theoldmanhad said.He’dbeen right.Themonths Joshhad spentwithKatiehadbeensomeofthehappiestofhislife.Apersonnevergrowsdeepunlesshe’sbeenthroughsuffering.Grampshad

toldJoshthat, too.Rightagain,Joshthought.At themoment,hefeltathousandfeetdeep.HebroughtKatie’shandtohismouthandkissedherpalm.“Hanginthere,Katie.Hangin.”Increased doses of her regular medications didn’t halt the rejectionprocess.“Don’tyouhaveanysecret,magicmicrobes,Doc?”KatieaskedafrowningDr.Jacoby.“There is another drug,” Dr. Jacoby said, his eyes serious. “It’sexperimental, though. We use it only in extreme cases, whenconventionalmedicationsaren’tdoingthetrick.It’scalledbyastringoflettersandnumbers.Wecan’tuseitforlong,becauseofthesideeffects,butsometimes,itturnsthetideandhaltstherejection.Thenweswitchbacktothetriedandtrueassoonaswehaveaparticularepisodeundercontrol.”Katiesawherparentsexchangeglances.Weakly,shesaid,“It’smylife.Iwanttogiveitatry.”“Oh,Katie—”hermotherstartedtoprotest.Katie’s dad put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “If that’s whatKatiewants,weshouldn’tinterfere,”hesaid.Hermothernodded,withoutanargument.Katieknewthematterwasoutofalloftheirhands,anyway.Shelookedatherdoctor.“Let’sdoit.”“You’ll run a high fever,” Dr. Jacoby cautioned. “You’ll be verysick…disorientedandoutofit.Youmightevenhavetogobackonaventilatorforatime.Butifitworks—”“Doit,”Katierepeated,holdinghisgazeunflinchingly.“Youknowme—Ihavetogoforthegold.”“We’llhavetomoveyoubackintotheICU.”Katiehated the thought,butknewshehadnochoice.She looked toherparents.“Iwantyoutopromisemesomething.”“Anything,”herdadsaid.“Ifitdoesn’twork,promisemeyou’lllookoutforJosh…thatyou’lltakecareofhim,beafamilytohim.”“We’lltreathimlikeason,”herfathersaid.“And the rest of theWishmoney… see that it goes to someone in

needofatransplantwhocan’taffordit.”“Ifthat’swhatyouwant.”“It’swhatIwant.”Katieshuthereyes,tooexhaustedtosayanything

else.

Joshsatoutonthehospitalpatio,underastripedumbrella,sippingasoda and staring down at the concrete. The soda tasted flat, and theumbrellawasdoinglittletoholdbacktheheatoftheAugustsun.Hefeltas if he were in purgatory—the state of torment between heaven andhell. Eight days. Katie had been in a coma for eight days while thedoctors pumped her full of some new potion that didn’t seem to beworking.Joshwouldn’thavecomedownforasoda,preferringtokeephisvigil

intheICUwaitingroom,butMrs.O’Roarkhadinsisted.“Takeabreak,Josh, while Dr. Jacoby’s in with her. You know I’ll come get you ifanythingchanges.”Dayafterday,Katielayonthebed,withmachinesdoingtheworkof

her lungs, and her kidneys failing. Josh thought back to Aaron, butAaronhadbeenbraindead.WithKatieitwasdifferent.Itwas,wasn’tit?Herheart—whenhadhestoppedthinkingofitasAaron’sheart?—keptbeating.“Itcanturnaround,”Dr.Jacobykepttellingthem.“I’veseenitbeforeinpatientssickerthanKatie.”SomethingembeddedinthesurfaceoftheconcretecaughtJosh’seye.

Aplanthadpushedup throughacrack in the stone.He leanedcloser,squinting.Actually,thegreenstemhadcrackedthecementinitsquestforthesun.Thetinyplantcaughthisimagination.Howmiraculouslifewas!Why,itcouldevenmovestonewhenitwas

programmed togrow.The ideacausedhim to suck inhisbreath.Eversincehischildhood,he’dhearditsaidthatlifewasfragile.Staringdownatthesturdyplantmadehimpause,madehimseetheissueoflifeinanewanddifferentlight.Lifewashardy.Itwastenacious.Lifecouldn’tbedefeated. He started to pluck the stem, but stopped himself. It hadfoughtitswaythroughsolidconcrete.Hecouldn’tsnuffitout.Aaronhaddied,buthisdeathhadgivenKatie life.She, inherway,

hadgivenlifetoJosh.Evenifdeathtookher,itcouldn’tsnuffherout,

just as it couldn’t eradicateAaron, just as it couldn’t eliminateanyonewhohadoncelived.Lifewasagift.TherealizationsweptoverJoshandhefeltrenewedhope.Joshleaptup.HehadtoseeKatie.Hehadtotouchher,letherknowthat even if she went away now, he’d see her again. He ran into thehospitallobby,butdidn’twaitfortheelevator.Hetookthestairsuptotheninthfloor,runningsofastthathearrivedattheICUcompletelyoutofbreath.“Areyouallright?”Katie’sstartledmotherasked.“She’sgoingtomakeit,Mrs.O’Roark,”Joshsaidbetweengasps.“Onewayortheother,Katie’sgoingtomakeit.”“Oh,Josh, ifwecouldonlybesure.”Sheseemedeagertomatchhisoptimism.“I just saw a plant coming up through a solid slab of concrete,” heexplained.“I’mtellingyou,itwascomingstraightuptothesun,straightuptothesky.Wehavetobelieveshe’llmakeit.”

FDearReader,

or those of youwhohave been longtime readers, I hope youhaveenjoyedthisOneLastWishvolume.ForthoseofyoudiscoveringOneLastWishforthefirst time, Ihope

youwillwanttoreadtheotherbooksthatarelistedindetailinthenextfewpages.FromLaceytoKatietoMorganandtherest,you’lldiscoverthe lives of the characters I hope you’ve come to care about just as Ihave.Since the series began, I have received numerous letters from teens

wishingtovolunteeratJennyHouse.ThatisnotpossiblebecauseJennyHouse exists only in my imagination, but there are many fineorganizationsandcampsforsickkidsthatwouldwelcomevolunteers.Ifyou are interested in becoming such a volunteer, contact your localhospitals about their volunteer programs or try calling serviceorganizations in your area to find out how you can help. Your ownschoolmighthavealistofcommunityserviceprograms.Extending yourself is one of the best ways of expanding your

world … and of enlarging your heart. Turning good intentions intoactionsisconsistentlyoneofthemostrewardingexperiencesinlife.Mywish is that the ideals of JennyHousewill be carried on by you,myreader.IhopethatnowthatwesharetheJennyHouseattitude,youwillbelieveasIdothattheendisoftenonlythebeginning.

Thankyouforcaring.

YOU’LLWANTTOREADALLTHEONELASTWISHBOOKSBYBESTSELLINGAUTHOR

LetHimLiveSomeoneDies,SomeoneLivesMother,HelpMeLiveATimetoDieSixteenandDyingMourningSong

TheLegacy:MakingWishesComeTruePleaseDon’tDieSheDiedTooYoungAlltheDaysofHerLifeASeasonforGoodbyeReachforTomorrow

IFYOUWANTTOKNOWMOREABOUTMEGAN,

BESURETOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-56067-0

ExcerptfromLetHimLivebyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1993byLurleneMcDaniel

PublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksforYoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

Being a candy striper isn’t Megan Charnell’s idea of an excitingsummer,butshevolunteeredandcan’tgetoutofit.Meganhasherownproblemstodealwith.Still,whenshemeetsDonovanJacoby,shefindherselfgettinginvolvedinhislife.DonovanshareswithMeganhissecret:Ananonymousbenefactorhas

grantedhimonelastwish,andheneedsMegan’shelp.Themoneycan’tbuy a compatible transplant, but it can allow Donovan to give hismotherandlittlebrothersomethinghefeelsheowesthem.CanMeganhelpmakehisdreamcometrue?

“When I first got sick in high school, kidswere pretty sympathetic, but thesickerIgotandthemoreschoolImissed,theharderitwastokeepupwiththeoldcrowd,”Donovanexplained.“SomeofthemtriedtounderstandwhatIwasgoing through,butunlessyou’vebeen really sick…”Hedidn’t finishthesentence.“I’veneverbeensick,”Megsaid,“butIreallydoknowwhatyou’retalking

about.”Hetippedhisheadandlookedintohereyes.“Ibelieveyoudo.”

IFYOUWANTTOKNOWMOREABOUT

KATIEANDJOSH,BESURETOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-29842-9

ExcerptfromSomeoneDies,SomeoneLivesbyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1992byLurleneMcDanielPublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksfor

YoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

Katie O’Roark feels miserable, though she knows she’s incrediblylucky to have received an anonymous gift of money. The money

can’tbuythenewheartsheneedsorbringbackherdaysasatrackstar.A donor is found with a compatible heart, and Katie undergoes

transplantsurgery.Whilerecuperating,shemeetsJoshMartelandsensesanimmediateconnection.WhenKatiedecidestostarttrainingtorealizeherdreamofrunningagain,Joshhelpshermeetthedifficultchallenge.Will Katie find the strength physically and emotionally to live and

becomeawinneragain?

Fromthecornerofhereye,Katiesawaboywithredhairwhowasaboutherage.Hestoodnearthedoorway, lookingnervous.Withastart,sherealizedhewaswatchingherbecausehekeptavertinghisgazewhensheglancedhisway.Odd,Katie told herself.Katie had a nagging sense she couldn’t placehim.Asnonchalantlyaspossible,sherolledherwheelchaircloser,pickingupamagazineasshepassedatable.Sheflippedthroughthemagazine,pretendingtobeinterested,allthewhile

glancing discreetly toward the boy. Even though he also picked up amagazine, Katie could tell that he was preoccupied with studying her.Suddenly, she grew self-conscious.Was something wrong with the way shelooked?She’dthoughtshelookedbetterthanshehadinmonthswhenshe’dleftherhospitalroomthatafternoon.Whywashewatchingher?

KatieisalsofeaturedinthenovelsPleaseDon’tDie,SheDiedTooYoung,andASeasonforGoodbye.

IFYOUWANTTOKNOWMOREABOUTSARAH,

BESURETOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-29811-9

ExcerptfromMother,HelpMeLivebyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1992byLurleneMcDanielPublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksfor

YoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

SarahMcGreggorisdistraughtwhenshelearnsshewillneedabonemarrow transplant to live.And she is shocked to find out that herparents and siblings can’t be donors because they aren’t her bloodrelatives.Sarahneverknewshewasadopted.AsSarahfacesthisdevastatingnews,sheisgrantedonelastwishby

ananonymousbenefactor.Withhope inherheart, shebeginsa searchfor her birth mother, who gave her up fifteen years ago. Sarah’s lifedependsonherfindingthiswoman.ButwhatwillSarahdiscoveraboutthetruemeaningoffamily?

Didn’t the letter fromJWCsayshecouldspend itonanything shewanted?Whatcouldbemoreimportantthanfindingherbirthmother?Whatcouldbemore important than discovering if she had siblings with compatible bonemarrow?Herverylifecoulddependonfindingthesepeople.Sarahpracticallyjumpedupfromthesofa.“I’vegottogo,”shesaid.

IFYOUWANTTOKNOWMOREABOUTERIC,

BESURETOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-29809-7

ExcerptfromATimetoDiebyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1992byLurleneMcDanielPublishedbyBantamDoubleday

DellBooksforYoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

S ixteen-year-oldKaraFischerhasneverconsideredherselflucky.Shedoesn’t understand why she was born with cystic fibrosis. Despiteherdailytreatments,eachdayposesthethreatofa lunginfectionthatcouldputherinthehospitalforweeks.ButherclosefriendshipwithherfellowCFpatientVinceandthenewfeelingsshe isquicklydevelopingforEricgiveherthehopetoliveonedayatatime.Whenananonymousbenefactorpromisestograntasinglewishwith

nostringsattached,Karafindsawaytoletthepeoplewhohavelovedandsupportedherthroughoutherillnessknowhowmuchtheymeantoher.ButwilltherebetimeforKaratoseeherdyingwishfulfilled?

“WhatamIgoingtodoaboutyou,Kara?”Eric’s tone was subdued and so sincere that his question caught her by

surprise.“Whatdoyoumean?”“Ican’tstayawayfromyou.”“You seem to be doing a fine job of it,” she said quietly, but without

malice.“Iknowitseemsthatway,butyoudon’tknowhowhardit’sbeen.”Shewasskeptical“Wejustdancedtogether,butaftertonight,howwillitbe

between us?Will you still ignore me in the halls?Will you duck into thenearestopendoorwheneveryouseemecoming?”Heturnedhisheadandshesawhisjawclench.Shethoughthemightwalk

away,butinsteadheasked,“What’sbetweenyouandVince?”

IFYOUWANTTOKNOWMOREABOUTMORGAN,

BESURETOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-29932-8

ExcerptfromSixteenandDyingbyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1992byLurleneMcDanielPublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksfor

YoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

I t’s hard for Anne Wingate and her father to accept the doctors’diagnosis: Anne is HIV-positive. Seven years ago, before bloodscreening was required, Anne received a transfusion. It saved her lifethen,butnowtheharshrealitycan’tbechanged—thebloodwastainted.Annemustdealwiththeinevitableprogressionofhercondition.WhenananonymousbenefactorpromisestograntAnneasinglewish

withno strings attached, shedecides to spend the summerona ranchoutwest.Shewantstoliveasnormallyasshepossiblycan.Thesummerseemsevenbetterthanshedreamed,especiallyaftershemeetsMorgan.Annedoesn’tconfideinMorganaboutherconditionanddoesn’tplanto.Then her health begins to deteriorate and she returns home. Is theretimeforAnneandMorgantomeetagain?

Fearfully,Annestaredatherbleedinghand.Morganreachedbeneathher, liftedher,andplacedhersafelyawayfrom

thehayanditsinvisibleweapon.“Letmeseehowbadyou’recut.”“It’snothing,”Annesaid,keepingherhandclosetoherbody.“I’mfine.”“You’renotfine.You’rebleeding.Youmayneedstitches.Letmewipeitoff

andexamineit.”Her eyes widened, reminding him of a deer trapped in headlights. “No!

Don’ttouchit!”“But—”“Please—you don’t understand. I—I can’t explain. Just don’t touch it.”

Wild-eyed,panicked,shespun,andclutchingherhandtoherside,sheboltedfromthebarn.Dumbfounded,Morganwatchedherrunbacktowardthecabin.

YOUMAYALSOWANTTOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-29810-0

ExcerptfromMourningSongbyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1992byLurleneMcDaniel

PublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksforYoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

I t’sbeenmonthssinceDaniVanoy’soldersister,Cassie,wasdiagnosedashavingabraintumor.Andnowthetreatmentsaren’thelping.Daniisfuriousthatsheispowerlesstohelphersister.Shecan’tevenconvincetheirmother to take the girls on the trip to FloridaCassie has alwayslongedfor.ThenCassie receivesananonymous letterofferinghera singlewish.

DaniknowsshecannevermakeCassiewell,butsheisdeterminedtoseeCassie’sdreamcometrue,withorwithouttheirmother’sapproval.

Danihadrehearsedthespeechsomanytimesthatevenshewasbeginningtobelieve it. “It’s as if you’re supposed to do this.Whilewe don’t knowwhogave you themoney for awish, I think you should use it to get somethingyou’vealwayswanted.Listen,evenatrilliondollarscan’tmakeyouwell,butthemoneyyou’vegottencanhelpyouhavesomefun.Isaylet’sgoforit!Youdeservetoseetheocean,whetherMomagreesornot.I’mgoingtohelpyoumakeyourwishcometrue.”

IFYOUWANTTOKNOWMOREABOUTRICHARD

HOLLOWAYANDjENNYcRAWFORD,

BESURETOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-56134-0

ExcerptfromTheLegacy:MakingWishesComeTruebyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1993byLurleneMcDanielPublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksfor

YoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

WhoisJWC,andhowwastheOneLastWishFoundationcreated?FollowJWC’sstruggleforsurvivalagainstimpossibleoddsandthe

intertwiningstoriesof loveandfriendshipthatdevelopedintoa legacyof giving. And discover the power that one individual’s determinationcanhave,inthisextraordinarynovelofhope.

“I hadmy physician call the ER doctor and afterward,whenwe discussedtheir conversation, he suggested that I get her to a specialist as quickly aspossible.”“AspecialistatBostonChildren’s,”Richardsaidwithanod.“Whatkindof

specialist?”“Apediatriconcologist.”Before Richard could say another word, Jenny’s grandmother spoke. “A

cancerspecialist,”Mariansaid,hervoicecatching.“TheybelieveJennyhasleukemia.”

IFYOUWANTTOKNOWMOREABOUTKATIE,

CHELSEA,ANDLACEY,

BESURETOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-56262-2

ExcerptfromPleaseDon’tDiebyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1993byLurleneMcDanielPublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksfor

YoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

WhenKatieO’RoarkreceivesaninvitationfromtheOneLastWishFoundationtospendthesummeratJennyHouse,sheeagerlysays

yes.KatieisevergratefultoJWC,theunknownpersonwhogaveherthegiftthatallowedhertoreceiveahearttransplant.NowKatieisaskedtobea“bigsister”tootherswho,likeher,facedauntingmedicalproblems:Amanda, a thirteen-year-old victim of leukemia; Chelsea, a fourteen-year-oldcandidate foraheart transplant;andLacey,a sixteen-year-olddiabetic who refuses to deal with her condition. As the summerprogresses,thegirlsformclosebondsandenjoythechancetoact“justlike healthy kids.” But when a crisis jeopardizes one girl’s chance offulfilling her dreams, they discover true friendship and its power toendurebeyondthislife.

“Me, too. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Katie.Whenever I thinkaboutlastsummer,abouthowyouweresoclosetodying…”She didn’t allow him to complete his sentence. “Every day is new, every

morning,Josh.I’mgladIgotasecondchanceatlife.AndaftermeetingthepeoplehereatJennyHouse,aftermakingfriendswithAmanda,Chelsea,andevenLacey,Iwantallofustoliveforever.”Hegrinned.“Forever’salongtime.”She returned his smile. “All right, then at least until we’re all old and

wrinkled.”

IFYOUWANTTOKNOWMOREABOUT

KATIEANDCHELSEA,BESURETOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-56263-0

ExcerptfromSheDiedTooYoungbyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1994byLurleneMcDanielPublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksfor

YoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

Chelsea James and Katie O’Roarkmet at JennyHouse and spent awonderfulsummertogether.

NowChelseaandhermotherarestayingwithKatieasChelseaawaitsnews about a heart transplant.While waiting for a compatible donor,ChelseameetsJillian,akind, funnygirlwho’swaiting foraheart-lungtransplant. The two girls become fast friends. When Chelsea meetsJillian’s brother, he awakens feelings inher she’s never knownbefore.Butashermedicalsituationgrowsdesperate,Chelseafindsherselfinacontestforherlifeagainstherbestfriend.Isitfairthatthere’sachanceforonlyoneofthemtosurvive?

“Don’tyousee?There’sonedonorcomingin.Onlyone.Whowillthedoctorssave?Whowillgetthetransplant?”For a moment Josh stared blankly as her question sank in. “Katie, you

don’tknowforsurethere’sonlyonedonor.”“Yes, I do. There’s only one.One heart. Two lungs. The doctor said the

donor’sfamilyhadgivenpermissionforallherorganstobedonated.”Katie’svoice had risenwith the tide of panic rising in her. “There’s two people inneedandonlyoneheart.”

KatieandChelseaarealsofeaturedinthenovelsPleaseDon’tDieandASeasonforGoodbye.

IFYOUWANTTOKNOWMOREABOUTLACEY,

BESURETOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-56264-9

ExcerptfromAlltheDaysofHerLifebyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1994byLurleneMcDanielPublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksfor

YoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

Outofcontrol—that’showLaceyDuvalfeels inalmosteveryaspectofher life.There’snothingshecandoaboutherparents’divorce,

there’snothingshecandoaboutthedeathofheryoungfriend,there’snothingshecandoabouthavingdiabetes—that’swhatLaceybelieves.AfteraspecialsummeratJennyHouse,Laceyisdeterminedtoputher

problemsbehindher.Whenshereturnstohighschool,sheisdriventobecomeapartoftheincrowd.ButLaceythinksfittinginmeanslosingweight and hiding her diabetes. She starts skipping meals andexperimentingwithhermedication—sometimesignoringitaltogether.Herfriendsfromthesummercautionhertofaceherproblemsbefore

catastrophestrikes.IsittoolatetostopthedestructiveprocessLaceyhassetinmotion?

Shewenthotandcoldallover.Itwasasifhe’dshonealightintosomesecretpart of her heart and something dark and ugly had crawled out. She hadrejectedJeffbecauseshedidn’twantasickboyfriend.She’dsaidasmuchtoKatieatJennyHouse.“It’sanysickness,Jeff.It’sminetoo.Ihateitall.Iknowit’snotyourfault,

butit’snotmineeither.”“I’llbetnooneatyourschoolknowsyou’readiabetic.”Shesaidnothing.“I’mright,aren’tI?”“It’snoneofyourbusiness.”“You know, Lacey, you’re the personwhowon’t accept that you have a

disease.Whyisthat?”Shewhirledonhim.“Howcanyouaskmethatwhenyou’vejustadmitted

that girls drop you once they discover you’re a bleeder? You of all peopleshouldunderstandwhyIkeepmylittlesecret.”

Lacey is also featured in the novels Please Don’t Die andA Season forGoodbye.

IFYOUWANTTOKNOWMOREABOUTKATIE,

CHELSEA,ANDLACEY,BESURETOREAD

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-56265-7

ExcerptfromASeasonforGoodbyebyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1995byLurleneMcDanielPublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksfor

YoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

Togetheragain. It’sbeenayearsinceKatieO’Roark,ChelseaJames,andLaceyDuvalsharedaspecialsummeratJennyHouse.Thegirlshaveeachspenttheyearstrugglingtofitintotheworldofthehealthy.Nowthey’reback,thistimeas“bigsisters”toanewgroupofgirlswhoalsofacelife-threateningillnesses.But even as the friends strive to help their “little sisters” face the

future together, theymust separately confront their own expectations.Katiemustdecidebetweenanoldflameandanexcitingscholarshipfarfrom home. Chelsea must overcome her fear of romance. And Laceymustconvincetheboyshelovesthatherfeelingsforhimcanbetrusted.WhentragedystrikesJennyHouse,eachofthegirlsknowsthatthings

can never be the same. Will Lacey, Chelsea, and Katie find a way tocarryonthelegacyofJennyHouse?Cantheirspecialfriendshipendure?

“Overhere!”Katiecalled.“Ifoundit.”ChelseaandLaceyhurriedtowhereKatiewascrouched,diggingthrougha

pile of dead leaves. The tepee was partially buried, and Chelsea held herbreath, hoping that the laminated photo and Jillian’s diamond stud earringwerestilltiedtoit.“It’scomeapart,”Katie said, liftingup the twigs in threeparts.But from

the corner of one of the sticks, the laminated photo dangled, and from itscenterthediamondcaughttheafternoonsunlight.Thephoto looked faded,butAmandastill smiled fromthecenterof their

group.Chelseafeltalumpforminherthroat.Thesedays,sheandKatieandLacey looked older, more mature, healthier too. But Amanda looked thesame,hergaminesmilefrozenintime.Andageless.Katie took the photo from Lacey’s trembling fingers. “We were quite a

bunch,weren’twe?”

YOUCANREADMOREABOUT

MANYOFYOURFAVORITECHARACTERSFROM

THEONELASTWISHBOOKSIN

ONSALENOWFROMBANTAMBOOKS0-553-57109-5

ExcerptfromReachforTomorrowbyLurleneMcDanielCopyright©1999byLurleneMcDaniel

PublishedbyBantamDoubledayDellBooksforYoungReadersadivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.

1540Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10036

Allrightsreserved

KatieO’Roark is thrilled to learn thatJennyHouse isbeing rebuilt.Afterthefirelastyear,Katiethoughtshecouldneverreturntothe

camp,where she spent the summerswith youngmen andwomen likeherwhofacedmedicaloddsthatwerestackedagainstthem.ButthankstoRichardHolloway’sefforts,KatieandherlongtimefriendsLaceyandChelseawillworkascounselorsonceagain.They’llbejoinedbyMeganCharnell,MorganLancaster,andEricLawrence,whoarenewcomerstoJennyHousebutwhohaveexperienced thegenerosityof theOneLastWishFoundation.It’snotuntilKatiearrivesatcampthatshediscoversthatJoshMartel,

herformerboyfriend,isalsoacounselor.KatieandJoshbrokeupayearago,whenKatiedecided togoaway to college.Beingnear JoshagainbringsbackafloodofoldemotionsforKatie.AndwhenJoshconfrontsunexpectedadversity,Katieknowsshehastoworkouther feelings forhim. Through the heart transplant she underwent years ago, Katiemiraculouslyreceivedagiftofnewlife.Nowshemustdiscoverhowtomakethemostofthatpreciousgiftandchooseherfuture.

Shestopped.Bynowtearshadfilledhereyesandherheartfeltasifitmightbreak.She trulybelieved thatGodhadheardherprayer.What shedidnotknowwaswhetherornothewouldgrantherrequest.Againstgreatodds,Godhadgivenheranewheartwhenshe’ddesperatelyneededone.Andhehadbrought Josh into her life aswell. She believed thatwith all her heart andsoul.Nowtherewasnothingmoreshecoulddoexceptwait.Andhavefaith.Katieliftedherarmsinthemoonlightinsupplicationtotheheavens.