Counting Thyme (17 page)

Emily stood up. “Do what you want. I have to get back before Mr. Wocjio notices I've been in the bathroom for a million years.” Then she ran off. But right before she went through the auditorium doors, she looked back. Just once, like she wanted to stay.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” Lizzie said to me. Then Mr. Calhoun called her name again, and she clenched her hands. “This is stupid. Everyone will be staring at me.”

“It'll be okay. Just don't look at them.”

“I can't
not
look at them,” she said, her eyes wide behind her purple glasses.

Her
glasses
.

“You can if you take these off,” I said, sliding her glasses free.

Then I pointed her in the direction of the stage and watched as she recited her lines, quietly at first, then with more feeling. When she finished the lines, she shut her eyes and sang, and every single person in the auditorium stopped and stared because what we heard wasn't just a girl singing a song, but a song coming to life. I could see Dorothy winding her way along the yellow brick road, searching for home.

When Lizzie finished, she opened her eyes, and everyone applauded. And even though she couldn't see it, I gave her two thumbs up.

NO FITS

THE SATURDAY AFTER TRYOUTS, SHANI AND I TALKED JUST LIKE
we'd planned. She mentioned Jenny three times and I pretended not to notice. Then I told her that I'd signed up for the Spring Fling, and it seemed like she was happy to hear the news. It was weird talking about our separate lives, but that was better than not talking at all. At least that's what I told myself.

In the afternoon, Cori went with Dad to buy supplies for a project she and her drama friends were doing on their own. Val didn't want to go anywhere, so I stayed with him to read books on the couch, but he was acting fussy. He kept picking at his stuffed triceratops while I read, and I wondered if he was worried about starting 3F8 again. He was going back to the hospital on Monday morning for his second round of treatment.

I held up the book we'd just finished. “Want to read it again?”

Val nodded. He was obsessed with this story about a girl whose pet monster kept having fits. Everywhere they went, the monster got mad about sharing toys or people talking
loudly on the bus, and she would scold him and tell him not to act up. Val scolded the monster right along with her. But his favorite part was at the end, when the girl has a fit herself. And the monster helps her calm down. I liked how that was the last thing you expected from a monster, but that's exactly what he did. I was just getting to the good part, where you find out that the monster is really the little girl's stuffed toy, when Val said, “Sara doesn't have any hair, either.”

I stopped reading. “Who's Sara?”

“She's at the hospital, too.”

“Oh.” He and Mom had been spending a lot of time with their support group. “Is she part of your playgroup in the mornings?”

“Uh-huh.” He picked at the triceratops's horns, pulling the threads loose. “She got the medicine at the same time as me.”

“Oh.” I rubbed my hand over his patchy brown hair, which had grown from fuzz into something like scruff. He was wearing a brand-new Iron Man costume. It had come in the mail for his second round of treatment. That brought his count up to eight costumes in all.

“What if Sara's not there anymore?” he asked.

“Where? At the hospital?”

He nodded.

“She might not be. I mean, maybe she won't be on the same schedule as you this time.”

He shook his head, frustrated. Triceratops suffered another yank. “Where is heaven?” he asked all of a sudden.

“Oh.” I looked at the kitchen. Mom was out of sight. “Well, I think it doesn't matter
where
heaven is. The idea is just that it's a very nice place.”

His little blue eyes got serious. “Can you visit there?”

My breath caught. “Do you mean . . .”

“If Sara went to heaven, I want to say good-bye.”

I swallowed hard, and told myself I did
not
want to cry. “Well, in that case, all you have to do is shut your eyes. Then she would hear anything you said.”

He looked hopeful. “Really?”

“Pinkie swear,” I said, and we locked fingers.

Then I heard a throat clear behind us. Mom was standing there with a plate of snacks. “I thought you two might be hungry,” she said, and I wondered how long she'd been listening.

“Yum, apples!” Val shouted, like he hadn't just been talking about visiting one of his sick friends in heaven. He jumped up to grab a slice, and Mom looked at me.

“Be careful what you promise him,” she said, and a shiver ran over my skin. I felt like I'd done something wrong. I knew Mom didn't like us to talk about the hard stuff, not if we could help it. And I understood why. They don't call it the hard stuff for no reason. But Val trusted me, and I wasn't going to lie to him the way Mom and Dad lied to me, even if it made her mad.

When Dad got back with Cori, I helped him gather Val's lovies for a trip to the Super Sudz Laundromat. We had to
wash them before he took them to the hospital, just to be safe. Mom didn't want to bring a whole month's worth of germs with them.

“Got it?” Dad asked as I hefted a pillowcase full of stuffed animals over my shoulder. I gave him a thumbs-up, and we headed down the stairs. When we passed by Mr. Lipinsky's, his door stayed shut, even though I clomped my boots hard against the floor. I hadn't seen him since we'd sat together earlier in the week. Maybe he was busy with Sylvie. Or maybe he was too tired to spy on us that day. Mainly I just hoped he was doing okay, and that he wasn't out wandering the streets somewhere.

At the Super Sudz, Dad and I worked quickly, loading lovies into the washer by color so they didn't bleed all over each other. We did
not
want a rainbow massacre on our hands.

After the washers started up, Dad said, “Let's look for quarters.” I was surprised, because Mom hated it when we did that. But Mom wasn't there. So, when the other people left our row, we dropped to our knees and looked beneath the machines, risking dust bunnies and old chewing gum to find lost quarters. Dad found zero. I found three.

“You smoked me,” he said as we sat on the bench next to the washing machines. He brushed the dust off his knobby knees. He kind of sighed when he did it, and I noticed how his beard looked even grayer around the edges. Maybe it was just the awful fluorescent lighting, or maybe he was worn out. He had the new job. He had Val's treatment coming up. I felt bad for not noticing him much lately.

He looked at me. “You know what? That jar of yours sure has a lot of time in it.”

I froze. What was Dad doing spying on my Thyme Jar?

“I bet I know what you're saving up for,” he said with a grin. “I know it's hard. Your brother takes up a lot of Mom's time, and your sister . . . well, she's a handful. But I understand. Of course you want your own life, too.” My heart thumped against my chest. Had he overheard me talking with Shani? Was he reading my mind?

He leaned closer. “Just remember, you can't have a cell phone until you're twelve, no matter how much time you save up. Those are the rules.”

Relief washed over me. “Sure, Dad. No problem.”

“That's my girl. It's going to get better. You'll see. You might even want to come see the Empire with me one day. It's right by my office.”

I nodded, because going up to the top of the Empire State Building did sound kind of cool, but Dad had just said “one day” like we were going to stay in New York forever. Like Val's treatment wasn't going to be over in three months at all. Part of me wondered what that would be like. Would we keep living in the same tiny apartment? Would Val really go back to school one day? And if he did, what would it mean for me?

“Dad, when are we going back?” I asked, thinking of how we'd already been in New York for six weeks. “And don't say
in a while
.”

“Well . . . after your brother finishes three rounds of 3F8,
he'll have a new set of scans. Then we'll see where we're at.” It sounded like a doctor's words coming out of his mouth. Words that say things but don't promise much.

“Before we left, you said March.”

He sighed. “I did. But that was before we knew if Val would reject the medicine.”

“But now we know, right?”

“Well, we know for
now
.” He shook his head, and then his shoulders dropped. “Look, Thyme. I know you and Shani want to have your birthdays together like you always do. But March is a long way away. We don't know what's going to happen between now and then. We won't even know if the 3F8 is really working until Val has his scans.”

“I thought that's what the blood test was for?”

Dad shook his head. “No, that just tells us if Val's rejecting the medicine. There's a chance that even with the 3F8, the neuroblastoma could come back. It's a small chance, but that's why we're trying not to get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, even though I was not okay. Every time it seemed like Val was on the road to success, things just got more complicated.

Back at the apartment, Dad handed me a time slip for helping with the laundry. I added the slip to my jar, and it fluttered down to meet the others, like a feather on air. So much time. Usually, it made me feel good to count the slips. The jar meant home. It meant being in the same room with Shani again and giving Grandma Kay a hug. But when I tried to think of those things, my mind kept going back to Val's
friend Sara. How he was so worried about missing her if she was gone. I hoped that when Val went back to the hospital on Monday, she would still be there.

Late Sunday night, I woke up to someone screaming. For a second, I didn't know where I was.

Then I heard Cori. “It's Val,” she said, her voice tight with panic.

We ran into the hall. Mom and Dad were already in Val's room. “No pinchies!” he shouted, flailing at them. “No pinchies!” Pinchies were shots.

“You're okay, honey,” Mom said. She stroked Val's face, but his eyes were only open a tiny bit. It didn't seem like he was really awake.

“He's all right,” Dad said to me and Cori. “It's just a bad dream.”

“He doesn't look all right,” Cori said just as Val screeched again. My hands were hot, my feet freezing. Standing there in the darkened hallway, it felt like the world was ending.

“Go back to bed, girls,” Mom ordered.

I couldn't move.

“They don't need to see this!” she shouted at Dad.

He raised his hands and dropped them again, helpless. He looked so broken, standing there while Val cried out. That's when I remembered Val's book.

I pushed past Cori.

“Thyme, don't,” Dad said, but I slipped past him and leaned over the side of Val's Lightning McQueen bed.

“No fits, Val!” I shouted, because he always turned his hearing aids off when he slept.

Mom looked at me like I was a lunatic. “Michael, get her out of here!”

Dad reached for me.

“No fits, Val!” I shouted again, and his body stopped moving. I'd gotten through to him. “No fits,” I repeated, a little quieter, but still loud enough for him to hear. His lips curved just the littlest bit, like he was about to laugh. Then he slumped back, arms limp, fast asleep.