Page 60 of Puck Your Charity

"I play to win. Prepare to get destroyed." I reach out and take the controller from his hand.

Sam lets out a bright, echoing laugh. "Yeah right. I beat Malcolm and Lawrence easily. You're going down."

I pull the plastic chair closer to the edge of his hospital bed. We sync the controllers and pick our characters. I choose Bowser.The familiar countdown music blares from the wall-mounted television.

The race starts.

We lean into the game. Drifting around the cartoon corners requires dodging banana peels and fake item boxes. The track flashes with bright neon colors. Sam proves ruthless on the sticks, hitting me with a red shell right before a jump. My character plummets off the edge of the rainbow-colored road.

"Take that!" Sam pumps his fist, bouncing slightly against his pillows.

A genuine laugh escapes my throat. The sound surprises me, considering laughing without a hint of sarcasm hasn't happened in years.

Out of the corner of my eye, a slight movement catches my attention. Elena holds her phone up, the camera lens pointed at the bed. She snaps a quick photo of Sam and me playing the game, her thumbs flying across the screen a second later to send a message. She smiles to herself, totally unaware that I noticed. Letting her have the quiet moment, my focus stays locked on the TV screen.

We spend the next hour racing on every track. We trash-talk each other. Bumping my shoulder against the metal railing of his bed happens every time he steals first place at the last possible second. The beeping monitors and the smell of bleach fade into the background. Focusing entirely on the kid makes the illness disappear.

He is funny. He is resilient. He deserves the best.

Losing the last tournamentby two points stings a little. I toss the controller onto his blanket in exaggerated defeat, earning another laugh from him.

"You cheated." A grin tugs at my lips while I point a stern finger at him. "I demand a rematch after the playoffs."

"You're on." Sam's eyes crinkle at the corners with a bright smile.

Grabbing my keys out of my pocket, a glance at my watch tells me it's time to go.

"Need to get to practice." Offering Sam a wave, a grin pulls at my lips. "See you around, Sam."

"Bye, Victor. Good luck in the playoffs!" Sam waves his hand, already turning his attention back to the Nintendo Switch screen.

Stepping out of the room, footsteps follow close behind me on the linoleum. Elena slips into the hallway and pulls the wooden door partially shut, leaving it cracked so she can still hear the game.

"Mr. Sterling." She keeps her voice a quiet whisper. "Thank you for coming back. You have no idea what this means to him."

"Please, call me Victor. And he deserved an apology. Leaving like that was wrong."

She offers a sad, tired smile. "He doesn't hold grudges."

Looking at the crack in the door, the faint sounds of the racing game drift out. "What exactly is he fighting?"

"Leukemia." Elena wraps her arms around her ribs, holding herself tight. "We've been battling it for two years. He needs a bone marrow transplant to survive, but nobody in our family is a match. We sit on a global registry waiting for a donor, but the odds are tough. So, we just try to make every single day a good one. Today was a great one."

The reality of their situation twists a knot in my gut.

"He's a tough kid." Giving her a respectful nod feels inadequate, but it's all there is to offer. "Keep your head up, Elena."

"Drive safe, Victor." She steps back into the room.

Walking toward the elevator at the end of the hall, the environment doesn't trigger a single spike of panic. The air feels breathable, leaving me grounded.

The doors slide open. Stepping inside the empty car, the ride down to the ground floor provides a moment to process Elena's words.

The expansive hospital lobby buzzes with activity. Patients and visitors mill around the bright seating areas. Heading toward the parking garage exit, a folding table set up near the main doors catches my eye. A bright blue banner hangs over the edge of the table, reading Be The Match: Bone Marrow & Stem Cell Registry.

A stack of pamphlets and a box of sealed plastic kits sit on top of the table. A young nurse sits behind the display, typing on a laptop.

Elena's words echo in my head.