Page 118 of The Storm

“I’m sorry,” Dad says again. “We didn’t know how to tell you. Or if. Or when.”

I clutch the paper in my hand, fingers curling into a tight fist.

“Does Nick know?” I swallow, trying to force down the lump in my throat. “Dia? You have to tell them.”

It’s like grabbing a lifeline. To keep my world from totally crumbling around me, I have to grab onto the little things.

“No,” Dad says quietly.

“And you can’t say anything.”

I stare at my mother.

She draws in a shaky breath before she catches herself and squares her shoulders. “I mean it, Go.”

I keep staring at her. “You can’t keep it from them. You should never have kept it from any of us!” I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is indignation, anger, or panic. Maybe a mix of them all. I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears.

“Please.” My voice cracks.

Mom steps forward. In less than a second, she’s transformed into a stranger. This isn’t my mother. This is somebody new. Somebody unapproachable and unreasonable.

I can’t speak. Or move. My brain needs to send an order for those things to happen, but it’s too busy going through everything I just read.

“You cannot tell anybody anything. Not right now,” she says.

“I have to! I can’t hide it. I… We… Nick. He…” I snap my mouth shut and try to breathe, but there’s nothing. In some distant part of my brain, I register the door opening and closing. Then my inhaler is pressed into my palm.

Nick and I are supposed to move away together. I love him. I can’t do this to him. I can’t?—

“You need to look at the big picture, Go,” Mom says firmly. “You can’t tell anyone right now. Your sister’s life is on the line. Do you realize just how dangerous her diagnosis is? Without a matching donor, she will die. Do you understand this? Not to mention the stress it’d cause her.”

All the air I managed to pull into my lungs disappears.

Did she actually say these words?

“Nick will still be there for her,” I manage. Barely.

“Will he? Or will he throw one of his temper tantrums?” Mom asks. She sounds almost gentle. Apologetic.I’m sorry to break it to you, Go.

I shake my head.

He will. It’s Nick. I know him better than anybody in the world. Of course he’ll help.

“I’m not willing to gamble your sister’s life on it,” Mom says. “Are you?”

Am I?

In the end,I’m not a match.

But Nick is.

THIRTY-SIX

INDY

For the next few weeks,all of our lives are consumed by the transplant. I’ve never actually thought about what the process of a stem cell transplant entails. I’ve never had to.

There are blood tests. Physical exams. Consent paperwork. Daily injections. Dia starts chemotherapy to destroy the faulty bone marrow.