Life Worth Loving

Chapter 5

I was running. My legs were pumping, and my lungs were straining for air, but I loved it. The thrill, the rush, I loved it all. I could see the runners behind me in my peripheral vision. There was only one runner in front of me- Gina Brexton, Liberty High's best track and field runner. I had to pass her. So I took a deep breath, pumped my arms a little more, and sped up. Nothing felt more freeing than the rush of adrenaline when I passed her. There's this weird ringing noise when I cross the finish line. And my eyes open.

One of the things I hate about my dreams is that I can walk in them. I can run. I can feel the wind in my hair as my legs work, my arms pumping. Then I wake up, and I see my wheelchair beside my bed. And it all comes rushing back. Those are my worst days when it's hardest to force myself out of bed and face the day. I hate those days.

My phone is ringing. That's what woke me up. Kendra. Why is she calling at seven in the morning? But I pick up my phone off the table beside my bed and answer it, hoping my voice doesn't sound too sleepy. "Kendra? Is everything okay?"

"It's the same as yesterday," Kendra says. "Aunt Kayla texted me to say that Tyler was awake. And, uh, I know it's early, but can you come with me to see Tyler?"

"Uh, yeah," I say, blinking sleep out of my eyes. "Let me get dressed and stuff. I can meet you at the hospital in twenty minutes."

"Great," Kendra says. "You're the best, Rina."

I pull myself to a sitting position, and my legs start spasming. I sigh, reaching forward and stretching my legs. I hate spasms. I get out of bed and get dressed, which takes about ten minutes. Then I tell my dad where I'm going. My dad is the only one in our house that's up at seven-thirty a.m. Heck, usually I'm not even up at seven-thirty.

"Alright, sweetie," he says, kissing the top of my head. "Love you."

"Love you!" I call behind me as I head for my car. It only takes about five minutes to get to the hospital, but it takes at least fifteen for me to get out of bed and get dressed. And that's not including brushing hair or teeth or anything.

Kendra met me in the lobby.

"Thank you so much," Kendra says, pressing the button for the elevator.

"Of course," I say. "But why did you call me? And not someone else? We barely know each other. No offense, of course."

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday," Kendra says. "How you said you felt when everyone kept walking in and out. And well..." Kendra's voice trails off. She's staring at my legs and my wheelchair.

Slowly, I nod. "And I'm a break from that. Because I can't walk either."

Kendra nods. "I hope you don't mind."

"No," I say. "Of course not. I get it. It's hard watching everyone around you doing something you can't."

"Yeah," Kendra says. The elevator doors open, and Kendra leads me down the hallway, past the nurse's station, and into a room. I'll have to sanitize my wheels when I get home, even though the place reeks of bleach and cleaning supplies. The smell makes me want to throw up. It's the way most hospitals smell.

"Hey, Tyler," Kendra says quietly.

"Hi," Tyler says. His voice is weak, but he smiles a little at the sight of his sister. Oxygen tubes wrap around his face. An IV runs from his hand to a machine. What's left of his legs are uncovered, resting on pillows under a mountain of gauze and bandages.

"How are you feeling?" Kendra asks, sitting down.

Tyler shrugs a little. "Could be better."

My breath catches in my throat. Was this what I looked like in the hospital? Weak, pale, limp. The image of myself, unconscious, with a neck brace, an IV line, my legs bandaged and braced from hip to ankle, flashes in my mind. How did Danny handle it?