Sudden Impact (4 page)

“It was a long shot,” Bennington said. “B negative or O negative are okay, but nothing else will work. Besides, you're not old enough to give legal consent. It would be up to your parents.”

“No it wouldn't,” I said. It was my body, not theirs.

Maybe I couldn't give Kurt what he needed. But I was determined to make sure he had enough blood until the stupid system could come up with something to really fix him up. At school the following day, I asked everyone I knew what type of blood they had.

“What are you, some kind of vampire?” Dorfman asked. “Besides, I don't know stuff like that. Hanging around hospital beds is making you weird.”

I sloughed it off.

“What do you want to know for?” Leach asked. “It's personal even if I did know.”

“I'm doing a project for biology,” I lied. “It's a survey, okay?”

But he just walked away.

I got a few answers from girls I knew. They seemed less uptight about it than the guys. A couple of teachers laughed at me but told me what kind of blood they had.

Nobody had the right type.

I guess the doctors were right about one thing: It wasn't going to be easy.

By the end of the day I was feeling beat. Scared too. I was just closing my locker when Jason showed up. He came up so close I could smell his breath, and I knew then that he had been drinking. He had his stupid motorcycle helmet under one arm and a big grin on his face.

Some girls thought he was cute, but I knew the guy was a jerk. Ever since his birthday, he'd been a jerk with a motorcycle, which was twice as bad.

“What do you want?” I asked him.

He ignored my question, as if I should be flattered that he had stopped by to talk. “I hate wearing this thing,” he said, handing the helmet to me. “The law has no right to say what's safe for me. It cuts down my vision. Besides, on a bike, you're supposed to feel free.”

“Right,” I said. “Now buzz off.” I'd overheard Jason talking non-stop about his motorcycle all week. Everybody was impressed but me.

“Aren't you gonna ask?”

“Ask what?” I snapped.

“You know. My blood type. The guys think your little game is really weird. Dorfman says you're a vampire.”

“Give me a break.”

“Does it have something to do with loverboy?”

“No.” There was no way he was going to trick me into saying anything about Kurt. “Just a biology project.”

“No it isn't,” Jason insisted, breathing boozy breath all over me again.

“It's none of your business. Take your helmet and go ride your tricycle off a cliff,
okay?” I shoved the helmet at him, but he wouldn't take it.

Instead he pulled a folded piece of notebook paper out of his pocket and dropped it in the helmet.

“Read it,” he said. “And tell me if I'm the one you're looking for. I charge twenty dollars a pint. But you have to promise not to leave teeth marks.”

Kurt started to walk away with that cocky dance that he did. “Take your helmet,” I said, walking after him.

“No way. It messes with my freedom and interferes with my style.”

I wasn't about to chase after him. I opened my locker and had to squeeze the stupid helmet in with all my books and gym stuff. I wasn't even going to look at the note or play along with his stupid game but as I was slamming the locker shut, the paper fell to the floor. I picked it up and unfolded it.

There was a big goofy drawing of a female vampire that I guessed was supposed to be me. And underneath it was simply: “B negative.”

I walked out the front door of the school and saw Jason, on his stupid motorcycle, take the corner where the buses were loading. He was going so fast his tires sprayed stones as he went onto the shoulder. I was going to have to talk to him. He was old enough to consent to giving blood. The decision would be his. Maybe I could use his big-shot-nothing-scares-me attitude to con him into it. I had that working for me.

On the other hand, the guy had a very thick skull. Maybe I wouldn't be able to make him understand.

I could have taken the bus, but I decided to walk home instead. I tried to keep my mind focussed on Kurt, but I was already trying to figure out how to convince Jason to give blood, maybe even on a regular basis if Kurt needed it.

As I walked I thought about how things had already started to change between Kurt and me. It was only recently that soccer seemed to get in the way of our friendship. And that was probably because of Jason. Kurt was always trying to prove something to Jason. Kurt wanted desperately to be Jason's friend, but Jason only made his life difficult. Kurt tried to explain to me that Jason had something to teach him. About soccer. About going beyond what you think you're capable of. About going for broke.

I remembered something else too. I remembered how Kurt and I had become friends. I had come home from school one
day a couple of years earlier. My parents were inside screaming at each other. The doors were locked and I wanted to go in but was afraid to.

Kurt walked by and saw me sitting on my porch with my head on my knees. When he walked up to me he heard my parents inside.

“What's going on?” he'd asked.

“Listen. World War Three,” I'd said.

“You want to come over to my house? Maybe watch a video or something?”

“What do you have?”

“I have all the old
Star Wars
movies. Do you like
Star Wars
?”

I didn't really like science fiction at all, but it didn't matter. I walked to Kurt's house and we watched the first
Star Wars
movie. He talked through the whole thing, explaining who all the characters were and what he knew about each planet. I didn't like the movie much, but I really liked Kurt trying to explain it all to me. He even put his hand over his mouth, started breathing funny and did an imitation of Darth Vader.

Kurt's mother was nice to me the first day except she felt obliged to tell me about the rules at her house. Shoes off when you come in, so you don't wreck the white carpet. No drinks or junk food in the living room. No interfering with homework time. Yikes, she was pushy. I was surprised Kurt was so casual about it.

After I had shown up unnanounced a couple of times, afraid to go home, she wasn't so friendly. She'd heard stories from the neighbors about my parents' fights. The arguments were legendary in our neighborhood. She didn't want her son spending too much time with a kid from a messed up family.

But that day of the first visit, Kurt even walked me home. We stood at my back door and listened. It was quiet.

“Do you think it's safe?” he asked.

“They only yell. They never hit.”

“Call me if you need me,” Kurt said.

And sometimes I called. Sometimes his mom lied and said Kurt wasn't home. But Kurt had a call minder on the phone in his
room. If he saw that I had called, he called me back. Sometimes I just needed someone to talk to.

And Kurt had always been there.

We rode bikes together and then we started running long distance. Sometimes we kicked a soccer ball around at the park—at least until soccer season. That's when he started to get more serious and began practising with the older guys. And he started hanging around with Jason. I don't know why Jason didn't like me. I don't think it was personal because he could be nasty to just about anyone. It didn't seem to bother Kurt, though.

So I decided to stay on the sidelines at the games and practices. I would be Kurt's number one fan. I'd cheer him on. After all, that's what friends are for.

My parents still had problems, but nothing would change that. I loved them, but I found it hard to be in the same room with both of them at the same time. I tried a few times to talk to my mom about it, but she always pretended that we were perfectly
normal. “Everything is fine. All families have … difficulties.” I promised myself that when I grew up I'd never be like them. I would find someone I truly loved, and I'd live happily ever after. I really would.

When I got home the house was empty, as usual. Both my parents worked now. They had crummy jobs and there never seemed to be enough money. So what else was new? At least it was quiet.

In my empty house, I sat down and tried to watch TV. The soaps were on. Peggy just found out that she had been cheated out of her inheritance and she was crying. I switched it off in disgust. What crap! People
crying because they were no longer rich. That's just the way everybody was. They cared about garbage. Nobody cared about what was really important.

I was angry at the way things were going. And I was so confused too. There was so much about Kurt's problem that I didn't understand. Bennington made it sound unlikely that they would find a liver for Kurt. “We're doing as much as we can,” he had said. “Unless a donor comes forward, there's not much we can do except continue to take good care of Kurt.” The big trouble, I knew, was that the liver donor had to be dead first.

Whatever they were doing at the hospital, it wasn't enough. I was angry and I was very tired. I dozed into a fitful sleep on the sofa.

Then the doorbell rang. I shook the sleep off and opened the door.

“Who do you think you are spreading rumors about Kurt's condition around school?” Kurt's mother snapped at me as soon as I opened the door. Behind her Mr. Richards looked upset and uncomfortable.

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard from Mrs. Leach that you were scouting around for blood for transfusions or some such thing. That's none of your business. Ever since I met you, little girl, you've been so pushy. Always trying to influence Kurt … the wrong way.”

“Where are your parents?” Mr. Richards interjected, with a shade more cool in his voice.

“They're not here,” I said. “And you're wrong. I'm trying to help.”

“You're just a kid!” Kurt's father shouted at me. “We've got doctors there, some of the best trained men in the country.” He said the word
men
like that was what counted. Men could handle these things. Not women. And especially not girls.

“If we don't do everything we possibly can, Kurt could die!” I screamed at them.

“Who told you that?” Mrs. Richards screamed back. “Who told you that? It's not true.” She leaned back against her husband and started to cry.

Mr. Richards looked at me and, almost whispering, said, “How did you know?”

“I overheard it. I was there when the specialist came. I know that it's not just the rare blood type. He needs a transplant too. It's true, isn't it?”

Mrs. Richards was lost in her tears. For a brief flash it was all too weird to be real. I thought I had fallen asleep in the middle of a soap opera and was dreaming.

But Mr. Richards nodded his head without speaking. I knew then that it was all too real.

“We don't know what we're going to do,” he said, choking back his own tears.

The phone rang. I looked at it just so that I didn't have to look at them. But I let it ring nine times before I moved to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Tina. It's Dr. Bennington at the hospital. Do you know where Kurt is? Is he with you?”

“I don't understand. No, of course he's not here.”

“He's not in his room. He's just …well— he's gone. I tried his parents' house, but there was no answer. We had your name
and address from the blood clinic. I thought maybe you had concocted some scheme with Kurt…”

I cut him off. “I didn't concoct some scheme,” I told him. But I thought about what Kurt had said the other day. He said he felt it was the hospital that was keeping him down, that if he left, he'd get better. I thought maybe he was trying to prove something to himself. “What will happen to him without …without all the tubes and stuff?” I didn't have the right words, but I knew that without the bottles and the equipment, he could be in trouble.

“I don't know. He might pass out, go into shock. He might die.”

I slammed down the phone. Kurt's parents knew immediately what had happened. “He said yesterday that he had to get out of the hospital,” Mr. Richards said. “It was driving him crazy. I didn't think he'd do it like this.”

Mrs. Richards said nothing. She didn't have to. Her expression said it for her:
It's all your fault, Tina.

Mr. Richards drove like a maniac to the hospital. I insisted on going with them. Kurt's mother couldn't stop me. She lectured me all the way to the hospital about what a bad influence I'd been on her son and how he used to be such a good boy.

“Nothing like this ever happened to us before,” she whimpered.

Mr. Richards had just gone through a red light and had come within inches of picking
off two little old ladies with shopping bags. He swerved to avoid them, then squealed the tires as he raced on toward the hospital.

“Kurt was never like this!” she went on. “He always did as he was told. He was a good boy. Nothing bad ever happened to him.”

I could see that Kurt's father was as fed up with her complaining as I was. I should have just kept my mouth shut, but I couldn't.

“Would you just stop feeling sorry for yourself and think about your son!” I shouted at her. “All I ever did to Kurt was suggest he'd be better off if he thought for himself and stopped accepting your rules all the time.” There, I'd said it. That's the sort of bad influence I was.

She turned around and gave me an icy stare. “And if he wasn't always trying to
think for himself
, he might still be in the hospital bed and not out in the street somewhere.”

Mr. Richards slowed down to make the turn into the hospital parking lot. I'd taken all I could stand. I threw open the door and jumped out just as he made the turn. I landed
on the grass, rolled once and got up running
.
Let them do what they could to find Kurt. I know him better than anyone, I thought, and I'll know where to find him.