Best Friends Through Eternity (13 page)

“I would have liked to try.”

“You have the same DNA. You could have been ill from the next hamburger.”

“But we stopped eating meat.”

“It doesn’t need to be a hamburger. It could be a bad case of strep throat. You’d have extra risks if you ever became pregnant. You’d have to live your whole life differently if you had only one kidney.”

“I would have done it for my sister.”

“It wasn’t your choice to make. You were too young. And we couldn’t make it for you, either. The doctors wouldn’t allow it.”

“All these years, I thought my best friend had just left me. Now I know I was the one who abandoned her.”

“Bev couldn’t have us around. She didn’t want to see us after. Look at me, Paige.”

I raise my eyes to hers.

“She would have done the same had you been the one with the infection.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter!” But I find I can’t cry anymore. “Mom, I already told Dad, but I need you to know, too. If something happens to me, I want you to donate all my organs.”
Don’t hold on to a brain-dead body forever
, I silently plead. I can’t tell her that out loud; I can only hope the organ donation idea will take her to the right decision.

She nods, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

It’s my turn to hug and comfort her, but I just can’t. I’m still mad at her. For not helping me fight to keep Kim alive, for not taking me to see her and for hiding it all. In a couple of days, at best, I won’t see my mother for a long, long time. I’ll have Kim again and we’ll be sisters forever. For that reason, I should be able to let the past go. I lift one hand for a moment and touch her shoulder. Then I drop it again. I just can’t take that first step and forgive her.

S
nowflakes swirl lazily outside the window the third time through Friday morning. It’s funny to watch my parents struggle to come to the same decisions as they did the other two times through. I almost want to tell them what they will eventually decide. “With a storm on the way, it’s not worth the risk of driving all the way to the food terminal. Go with Mom to the store instead. That way if the snow continues and no one comes in to shop, you can both come home early.”

Instead, I let them come to their same conclusions. I love them even more, watching them weigh their choices. They’re careful, considerate people. They don’t want to let their Friday customers down. I hug Dad hard and long and then Mom, more quickly, and we all head out. The weather continues the same as the last pass through, gentle snow and warm air, not a storm by our standards.

Jasmine is late for our corner meet, so I walk to her house.
When she opens her door, instead of waiting by it and enjoying the exotic atmosphere from a distance, I kick off my boots and step into the house. “Good morning, Mrs. Aggarwal,” I call. “Mmm, it smells so delicious in here.”

She smiles at me broadly, a hint of Jasmine’s cheekbones in the roundness of her face. “Would you like to try the
paratha
your best friend made last night?”

“Yes, please!”

She holds out a plate and I take one.

“She’s been telling me that you’ve been teaching her to make bread.” I bite into it, savoring the spicy flat dough. “It’s really good,” I tell Jazz.

“Ah!” Mrs. Aggarwal throws up her hands. “They look like dog’s ears. She will never make a very good wife.”

“But she’ll make a great doctor. Did she tell you about visiting Body Worlds yesterday?”

“Yes, but you girls do not want to cut up bodies like that,” she scolds.

“No. Jazz will heal people. And I will look for cures. We have it all planned out.”

Mrs. Aggarwal likes that and offers me another
paratha
to take with me for lunch.

“Did she tell you she got the best mark in the class on her biology test?” I ask.

Mrs. Aggarwal turns her head to her daughter.

“She didn’t, did she? She’s too modest. I bet she’ll beat me to all the scholarships.”
If you let her continue school.
I only
hope Mrs. Aggarwal will come to that same conclusion.

She offers me another
paratha.
“You need to eat more. You are too skinny. You won’t find a suitable husband, either.”

“Mom! Don’t talk like that!”

“And who are you to be telling your own mother how to speak? The mouth on you! Doesn’t matter who I send you to, they will be sending you back.”

Jazz makes the silent scream face at me before she picks up her backpack from the floor in the hall.

On impulse, I hug her mother. “Thanks for the paratha.”

She pats my back and smiles. “You are coming to the party tomorrow. Yes?”

I nod.

“There you will taste some of Beena’s
pakoras.
Lured Gurindar all the way from Mumbai. Very, very good.” She hugs Jasmine next, and I feel a pang. They look like each other—same warm brown skin and glowing green eyes—and they will have a lifetime of arguing and teasing together. If only Jasmine can get her to accept Cameron.

Her mother walks us to the door.

“Don’t forget, I’ll be home late. Paige and I are helping Mrs. Falkner in the library today.”

I stop just before she shuts the door. “Mrs. Aggarwal, could we bring a couple of friends to the party?”

She looks puzzled.

“I’m sorry. That’s rude, isn’t it?”

“Perfectly all right. You can’t be knowing any better unless your parents teach you.”

“It’s only because we’re studying India in school and they’ll never get to know the real culture, not from a book and a class.”

Her mother nods. “Most certainly you should bring them. More people will bring Gurindar and Beena good luck.”

“Thank you. Bye.”

Her mother waves from the window as we walk away, down the sidewalk toward school.

At the end of the block, I look back, but she isn’t watching us anymore. It’s strange how some small details change each time I live through different parts of this week.

“What was that about?” Jazz asks in a frazzle. “Who are you bringing?”

“Who do you think?”

“Are you crazy?”

“You didn’t talk to her about Cameron, did you?” I ask.

“A little. I didn’t come out and tell her about him. But I said I might like to choose my own husband.”

“What did she say?”

“She said it was too early for any of that. As long as I was a good girl, we would just go to India for a visit. Didn’t matter what my grandfather and Dad cooked up.”

“Well, that’s great news.”

“I’m not a good girl. At least, not the way she thinks.” Jasmine sighs and shakes her head. “Well, okay, let’s see
how Cameron does with my family at the
sagai
.” She stoops down and picks up some snow to form into a snowball. “I can decide how to tell them about him after.” She pitches the snowball high in the air and hits a pole. “Thanks for everything.”

“No problem.” I throw a snowball, too, but it misses and lands on the ground. Ahead I see Max and Vanessa talking together. Of all people. As we walk closer, I can hear their conversation.

“You should try a nicotine patch, worked for my father,” he tells her.

She scowls.

He runs up to me then. “Can I carry your backpack?”

I shake my head. “You can knock it off, is what you can do.”

He leans over and kisses my cheek. “We’re going out together,” he tells Jasmine. “Did she tell you that?”

“Not yet,” I answer, then turn to Jazz. “It’s true, I’m afraid.”

Her eyes look like they’ve jumped into her eyebrows.

I grin at her reaction.

“Great! Good.” She recovers almost instantly and pats my arm.

Of the three walks to school, this one has definitely turned out the best.

Till Vanessa walks toward us and shoves Jasmine backward. “You better stay away from Cameron.”

“Hey, hey,” Max calls out and quickly steps between
them. Both Vanessa and Jasmine tower over him. He looks a little silly, like a mouse between two warring giraffes.

Jasmine steps around Max and comes back for more. “I would, really, Vanessa. To help you out, I mean. Only it’s Cameron who can’t stay away from me.” Jazz doesn’t wait for Vanessa’s mouth to close again. Instead, she barrels past her, throwing her to one side this time. Max and I follow.

“When I finish with you, Brownie,” Vanessa calls after her, “he’ll find it pretty easy. Trust me.”

I wince, wondering what she has in mind. Breaking Jazz’s nose or slashing her face.

“This is too much,” Max says as we continue into the school. “We both heard her threaten you, Jasmine. We need to report her.”

“Yeah,” I agree. Something has changed about Max. I watch him as he holds the door open for us. He seems to have more confidence, to be more courageous somehow. I shake my head. “Did you have to goad her quite so much, Jazz? You know she’ll have her whole army after you now.”

“Oh, she would have anyway, even if I had stayed quiet.” She lowers her voice as we walk to our lockers. “I’m not dropping Cameron because of her threats. She’s going to get that through her head sooner or later.”

“Yeah, well, it might not be soon enough.” I lower my voice, too. “What do you think, Jazz? If we tell Mrs. Norr, Vanessa will get suspended.”

“And that will leave the rest of the volleyball team.”

“Maybe without their leader, they won’t be so keen,” Max suggests.

He’s right. How can we just do nothing? But then another thought occurs to me. “If Jasmine has a threat made against her, and Mrs. Norr knows, will she call in all the parents?” I ask the question but know the answer.

“I think so.”

“Mine, too?” Jazz squeaks. “I can’t have Mom or Dad involved.”

“Probably,” Max answers. “Who knows?”

Of course, I know because of the Body Worlds photo of the intertwined cadaver couple, the one with Jazz’s and Cameron’s heads Photoshopped on top. But that event hasn’t really happened, since I backtracked a day again.

“Promise me you won’t say anything about it to her, then. Both of you. I can’t have my parents know.”

Max shrugs his shoulders.

I sigh. “Whatever.” If she told her parents about Cameron, maybe this could turn out differently.

Cameron joins us then, and we leave Jazz and him alone while we go off to science together.

The topic of discussion today, of course, is Body Worlds. Mr. Brewster tells us the various other ways cadavers are used to help science. I always thought they used dummies for crash tests, but he tells us real cadavers are needed for seat-belt testing and air-bag impact. “Statistics show that every body donated saves a hundred
and forty-seven lives. And that’s just with bodies, not organs.”

I don’t want my body to be used for safety testing, but I really want my kidneys to save a couple of kids. That will make up for not being able to help Kim. If my heart and lungs work out for someone else, or if my eyes can let someone see, that will be a bonus.

In English, Shakespeare is really growing on me. Max and I are teamed up to translate a love scene into modern English. His job is to read the passage out loud, and then we both work on interpreting. I write it down. I watch Max’s face, seeing his wide nose and lips differently today. He reads flat, in a matter-of-fact tone that makes Romeo’s overblown love confession funny.

“Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby,” I say as I paraphrase his lines.

He laughs and I find myself not minding his square bangs anymore. Spending time with Max is like reading Shakespeare, an acquired taste. I’m going to miss him.

To cheer myself up, I think about spending time with Kim. Since I will never know who my real parents are, I’m glad to find that I have one real biological relation, my sister. And we can explore all eternity together.

“Let’s go outside,” I tell Max at first break. “I don’t want to get in the path of the volleyball team.”

“And give up my hamburger fix?” he protests.

“I’ve got some Indian food I can share with you. Jazz’s mom gave it to me.” I tuck my arm in his elbow on the way
to the locker. After we put on our coats, we head outside. I see them before they spot me, so I steer Max away from the football field.

“They’re all out there smoking,” Max says. “How long before they get kicked off the team?”

“We won’t have any team.”

“Maybe they’ll go into rehab.” Max grins as we walk across the street. We find our way to a park bench a few blocks away from the school.

There I split up the
paratha.

“I love Indian food more than hamburger and pizza combined,” Max tells me.

“Good, then you’ll like coming to Beena’s engagement party on Saturday. She makes great
pakoras
.”

“What? I don’t know Beena.”

“She’s Jasmine’s cousin.”

“Do I need to bring a present?”

“I don’t know. We’ll ask Jazz later. Isn’t this good? Can you believe Jazz made this?”

“Wow. She makes bread from scratch?”

I nod. “She’s being trained to cook Indian food so she’ll make a good wife, just like Beena.”

“Well, she makes a mean
paratha
.”

Then I explain to him exactly why Jazz doesn’t want her parents called in about the bullying. “If they hear about Cameron before Jazz can explain, she thinks they’ll take her to India immediately to find a husband.”