The Last Leaves Falling (7 page)

Final wishes. One last glorious race across the battlefield.

Even the suggestion makes me feel uncomfortable.

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Talk it over with your mother.” She hands me a sheet of paper. “This’ll get you started.”

I fold it without looking at the words, and push it into a pocket. I do not want to read it here.

“Thanks.”

There are five minutes left, and Doctor Kobayashi keeps on talking about how it works, but I do not hear a word because I’m thinking,
What will be my dying wish?

I’ve read through the list several times; I can’t seem to stop, yet with each “I wish” I can feel the anger bubble like thick black tar in my chest. I wish to
have
. I wish to
be
. I wish, I wish, I wish. But they cannot grant me anything I really want.

I wish to have a
life
.

I wish to go to university, to work, to a Tigers game against the Yankees in twenty or thirty years’ time.

I wish to meet my
grandchildren
, and feed them ice cream until they’re sick.

I wish to be young and free and not in this wheelchair.

•  •  •  •

I hate everything about this sheet. The leading phrases, cheerful logo, even their
name
. Wish4Life? Really? It is as if they’re saying, “You are going to die. The best you can do is
wish
for life.”

It’s insensitive and horrible and It’s. Not. Fair. I want to mash the sheet into a ball and drop it in the trash. Or burn it. Tear it up into a hundred thousand pieces and let them fly out from my window like rancid hateful snow or the saddest cherry blossoms. But . . .

But Doctor Kobayashi has been kind. She means well. And she thinks that this will help. I can’t throw that away. So instead, I fold the paper back in half and slide it between the covers of a textbook I will never read again. Hidden. Gone.

I have not mentioned Wish4Life to Mama yet. I can’t. I know that we could use it; go on vacation to the mountains or New York, or get a hoist put in above my bed without my mother having to work the extra hours to pay for one. But it feels like a cheat wishing for these things. Things I do not really want.

Besides, the last time Mama and I wished for anything was when I first got sick. We went to the temple and we wished with all our hearts that it was just the flu, just growing pains, just my imagination.

I do not want to stir those memories. I won’t.

11

After a while, looking at the wish sheet makes my head ache, so I turn on the computer in search of something light and cheerful.

I scroll down the list of open chatrooms, past StReSsBuStInG, Parents!No and ComicFreakz. Halfway down, I see that ILoveArnieSchwarzenegger is open, and I click.

TerminateExterminate:
but WHY move to politics? I mean, his talents, his real talents are on the screen.

Arnie4Eva:
*shrug*

TerminateExterminate:
What, you don’t think so?

Arnie4Eva:
Yeah, but maybe he just got bored.

TerminateExterminate:
Bored? Of a metal endoskeleton? How?!

MisterSenator:
I’LL BE BACK

Arnie4Eva:
I dunno, like, I like history, but sometimes I want to do science instead, y’know? If I had to do one thing all the time I’d go mad.

TerminateExterminate:
I
suppose
.

MisterSenator:
I’LL BE BACK

Arnie4Eva:
And he must’ve been
good
at politics, too. He was re-elected.

MisterSenator:
I’LL BE BACK

TerminateExterminate:
By people that elected
George Bush
.

MisterSenator:
I’LL BE BACK

MisterSenator:
I’LL BE BACK

MisterSenator:
I’LL BE BACK

Arnie4Eva:
*shrug*

TerminateExterminate:
Shut UP, Senator.

MisterSenator:
hehe

TerminateExterminate:
Not funny dude. Not remotely funny.

TerminateExterminate:
Anyway, Arnie4Eva, he was
better
at acting, obviously. The Terminator will be preserved forever.

Arnie4Eva:
nothing lasts for ever

MisterSenator:
Hahahahahahahaaaaa

Arnie4Eva:
what?

MisterSenator:
That’s pretty funny, coming from a girl who’s tag is Arnie FOREVER!!!!!

TerminateExterminate:
Hah, yes. And anyway, it
will
. It’s preserved in the US National Film Registry. It’s THAT GOOD.

MisterSenator:
Yeah, so good that it has the BEST CATCHPHRASE EVER . . . I’LL BE BACK.

Arnie4Eva:
Don’t start that again.

I log out and scan down the list again. Seeing SkoolWorries: For All Your Academic Concerns, I can’t help thinking of the crowd of children in the park, and the classmates I have left behind. I wonder if any of
them
are logged in tonight.

I click on “room stats.” 147 participants. Maybe I can spot someone I know, guess who they are from their username or the things they talk about, and if not, there are enough people in there that I can lose myself amongst the crowd.

For a moment, I cannot follow anything, there are so many conversations going on at once, but then I start to pick out different strands of it. There’s this:

ShinigamiFanBoy:
Has anyone else from 3C done the classics essay yet? I need ideas!

TandemRide:
Sorry, Shini.

ShinigamiFanBoy:
Anyone?

TandemRide:
>>>>@ >> *
TUMBLEWEED
*

ShinigamiFanBoy:
fine, I’ll do it
myself
then. Anyone done the MATH assignment? ;)

TandemRide:
Eeee, one of these days, Shini. One of these days.

ShinigamiFanBoy:
One of these days what? 0_0

TandemRide:
You’ll see.

Bluebird_796:
Some of us don’t try to pass our work to others, FanBoy!

ShinigamiFanBoy:
Yeah, and look where that gets you. ;)

Bluebird_796:
*siiiiiiigh* maybe he has a point. There is a mountain of textbooks waiting for me, but I love you guys so much I don’t want to leeeeeave.

KyotoQueen:
*sigh* me too. How is there SO MUCH homework already? It’s only the first week. Waaah!

Bluebird_796:
I know. :(

ShinigamiFanBoy:
I hear ya!

0100110101100101:
Agree!

And this:

Meekkat:
Will somebody sit with me at lunch? I hate being the new girl.

BambooPanda:
I’ll sit with you Meekkat. What school u go to?

Meekkat:
International.

BambooPanda:
Oh. Sorry :(

BambooPanda:
I’m sure you’ll make friends really quickly. Introduce yourself to someone who looks nice at lunch?

Meekkat:
I’m too shy!

BambooPanda:
:( Who goes to International? Someone let Meekkat join them tomorrow? It SUX being the new girl.

Meekkat:
Aw, thanks Panda. You’re so kind.

BambooPanda:
Not at all ;)

GuitarGirl1:
You can sit with us, Meekkat. We’re in the second year and starting a band. You play an instrument?

Meekkat:
Um, no.

GuitarGirl1:
That’s okay. You can be a groupie. OHHH! GROUPIE!!! <3

Meekkat:
What are you called?

GuitarGirl1:
We haven’t picked a name yet. Any ideas? No wait, we can discuss it AT LUNCH. Yay! Meet me in the courtyard, I’ll have my guitar.

BambooPanda:
Successful matchmaking of the friendship variety! Yessss!

And this:

BlossomInDecember:
We’re going out for FroYo after school to celebrate. Who’s coming?

BITTERnGREEN:
Meeeeee!

LikesEmWithSparkle:
Me ;)

WindUpBird:
Me!

I watch the conversations unfold, one line at a time, piecing them together like a jigsaw puzzle where someone put a dozen pictures into the same box. I’m imagining WindUpBird and BlossomInDecember meeting over pumpkin-flavored frozen yogurt when
BRrRrRrRrRrRrR
, a flashing dialogue box appears at the bottom of my screen. It reads: You have a Private Message from MonkECMonkEDo. My stomach jolts with fear; nobody’s supposed to notice me!

What do I do? I can’t just ignore it, can I?

Can I?

BRrRrRrRrRrRrR
the box flashes again.

No, apparently not.

I scroll up the chatroom conversations, looking for the name. Making sure it’s real, and not a virus trap. MonkECMonkEDo says: Strawberry flavor. With lemon sprinkles.

I do not scroll farther up to see what should be strawberry.

BRrRrRrRrRrRrR

Okay, okay!

I click, and the box expands.

Hi, SamuraiMan. Welcome to KyoToTeenz :)