Sarah could barely bring herself to think about next week, much less next year. “Right.” She forced a smile. “I’d better get to homeroom … or has Mr. Parker taken me off his permanent rolls, too?”
Natalie giggled nervously. “Of course not, silly. No such luck—all your teachers have saved your place, along with all your work.”
Sarah smiled in order to smooth things over, but inside, she felt numb and beyond caring.
Sarah was lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, when Tina asked to come in. “What do you want?” Sarah asked.
Tina opened the door a crack. “I want to borrow your green sweater.” Without waiting to be invited, she came inside the room.
“I didn’t say you could come in,” Sarah said crossly.
“Don’t have a cow.” Tina crossed to Sarah’s closet and started digging through it.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for your sweater.”
“You can’t barge in here and take my things.”
“But I need it for tomorrow. I’m giving a report in government class, and I have to look my best.”
Sarah struggled off her bed. “How you look has nothing to do with how you speak.”
“But if I feel good because I look good, then I know I’ll do better.” Tina turned back toward the closet. “Come on—don’t be selfish.”
Her sister’s logic defied her, but Sarah was not in the mood for Tina’s antics. “Leave my sweater alone, and please get out of my room.”
“Why? Why are you being so mean to me?”
“Just leave, Tina.”
Tina crossed her arms and jutted out her lower lip. “What’s wrong with you, Sarah? Ever since you came home from the hospital, you’ve been as mean as a snake.”
Sarah leaned into Tina’s face. “Snakes bite,” she hissed. “Please go away.”
“I’m so scared,” Tina replied, rolling her eyes. “You know what your problem is? You’re mad at me because I’m the only person in this family who doesn’t fall all over you. I’m the only one who treats you like a regular person instead of someone who’s sick.”
Sarah shook her head in exasperation. She didn’t want to lose her temper, but Tina was acting like such a brat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sarah started to walk away, but Tina grabbed her arm. “Everyone around here treats you as if you’re some kind of fragile doll. As if you’re going to break or something. Well, I’m sorry you’re sick, Sarah, but I’m not one bit sorry I’m well. That’s the real reason you don’t like me, isn’t it? Because I’m healthy and you’re not.”
Sarah stared at Tina in disbelief. The hateful things she was saying must have been brewing in her for a long time. Sarah felt fury boiling inside her. “Go away.”
“I won’t. What are you going to do? Go tattle to Mom? Well, I don’t care. You’re mean and selfish, and I’ll tell Mom so to her face. I’m tired of your getting all the special treatment around here. Everybody acts as if I don’t exist. As if I don’t have feelings, too. I’m sick of it, do you hear? You have no right to be so mean to me. I’m your sister!”
“No, you’re not.” The words were out of Sarah’s mouth before she could stop them.
They halted Tina’s tirade cold, and a look of utter confusion crossed her face. “What did you say?”
Sarah clenched her fists and looked Tina straight in the eye. “I said, we’re not sisters. I was adopted, Tina. So cheer up—we’re not related at all.”
Seven
“THAT’S A LIE!” Tina shouted. “Take it back.”
“Why should I?” Sarah felt her heart hammering, knowing she couldn’t take back what she’d said in anger. She pretended indifference and plunged ahead with her story. “I really am adopted, which explains why you and I have nothing in common. We aren’t sisters and never will be. If you don’t believe me, just ask Mom.”
“What’s going on in here?” her mother asked as she barged into the room. “Why is Tina crying?”
Tina flung herself into her mother’s arms. “Sarah is being so mean to me. And she’s lying, too. She said you adopted her.”
Color drained from her mother’s face. She glared at Sarah. “Why did you tell her? Your father and I should have been with you when you told her.”
“It’s my life,” Sarah said.
“It’s true?” Tina blurted out, pulling away from her mother. “What she said is true?”
Sarah was shaken, caught completely off guard by Tina’s distress. She’d thought it was something Tina would be glad to know. They’d never been super close, as sisters should be. “Tell her it’s true,” Sarah insisted.
Their mother lifted Tina’s chin and gazed deeply into her tear-stained eyes. “Yes. Sarah was adopted.”
Tina gasped, covered her ears, and ran out of the room.
Their mother turned on Sarah. “Now, see what you’ve done! Why, Sarah? Why couldn’t you have waited?”
“Waited until when? Until she was grown?” Sarah was frightened. Everything seemed to be spiraling out of control.
“I’m going to try and calm your sister down,” her mom said. “Will you please not say anything to Richie. Don’t hurt him, too. He’s too young to understand.”
Her mother left the room, and Sarah felt sick to her stomach. Of course, she wouldn’t tell Richie. She hadn’t meant to tell Tina, but after weeks of being bottled up inside of her, the awful truth had just spilled out. All at once, Sarah felt as if the walls were closing in on her. Sarah hurried down the stairs and out the front door.
Outside, the night was cool and dark and tinged with the scent of blooming dogwood trees. She stood in the yard, wringing her hands, unsure of what to do, where to go. She saw a light on next door at Scott’s and jogged around to the front porch of his house. His family car wasn’t in the driveway. Please be home, Scott, she begged silently. She rang the bell. A minute later, Scott opened the door.
“Hi, Sarah,” he said, sounding surprised. He smiled, but the smile faded as he flipped on the porch light and took a good look at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything’s ruined, Scott, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Tell me what happened,” he said, bringing her inside and settling her on his sofa.
Suddenly, Sarah felt foolish and shy. What had possessed her to run next door to Scott’s? He must think she’s crazy.
“My folks are out,” he assured her when she hesitated. “Come on. Tell me. I’d like to help, if I can.” The soft light of the lamp behind Scott threw shadows on the wall, and from across the room, the TV flickered. Scott had pushed the mute button on the remote control, and no sound came from the set.
Sarah struggled to put her thoughts and feelings into words. She told him everything, half crying as she spoke. The only thing she held back was about the letter and check, but the burden of them weighed heavily on her. Why hadn’t this mysterious JWC considered what effect such a large amount of money might have on someone her age? Didn’t JWC realize what a responsibility it was to be a guardian of so much money? To be responsible for doing the right things with it?
“Tina took it hard when you told her you were adopted?” Scott asked once Sarah had completed her story. Sarah nodded, and Scott said, “I’m not surprised. She worships the ground you walk on.”
Sarah found that impossible to believe, yet didn’t want to debate it with Scott just then. “I guess I shouldn’t have told her,” Sarah acknowledged, her voice small and miserable. “What if my parents are so mad at me that they throw me out? How can I make it on my own?”
Scott put his hand on her shoulder. “That’s never going to happen. Your folks love you. Still, that’s some story, Sarah. What a way to find out you were adopted. No wonder you didn’t feel like discussing it with me the other day.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you. I feel so—so—weird about it. As if my brain might fall out from thinking about it so much.”
“It’s nothing to be ash
amed of. There’s this guy on my track team who’s adopted, and he’s pretty cool about it. He says his parents used to tell him he’d been chosen, and when he was little, he thought they’d gone to the supermarket and picked him out like a head of cabbage.”
The image of babies lined up in the produce section of the grocery store made Sarah smile momentarily. “But he’s known all his life. I found out just a few weeks ago. How could my parents have lied to me all these years? It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Was it worse than finding out you had leukemia?”
“In some ways, yes,” she replied. “I was younger when leukemia hit me, and it was a shock, but no one ever lied to me about my cancer. From the first, the doctors helped me understand what was happening to me. They’d say, ‘Sarah, we’re going to draw blood’ or ‘Sarah, we’ve got to do a bone marrow aspiration. It may hurt, but you have to lie perfectly still until it’s over Then you can scream all you want.’ ” Sarah remembered the painful days of treatment, and how her mother had held her hand and whispered words of encouragement throughout the procedures. She’s not my mother, Sarah reminded herself stubbornly.
“I always thought you were brave,” Scott told her. “I admired you.”
“You did?”
“I still do. I couldn’t believe it when you told me about needing the bone marrow transplant.”
“That’s another thing,” Sarah admitted. “I can’t even look to my family to help me with the transplant. My parents lied to me, Scott. My whole, entire life is a big, fat lie. My parents are not my parents, and Tina and Richie aren’t my sister and brother.”
Scott moved closer to her on the sofa and smiled. She felt herself softening. How was it possible for Scott to make her feel good when minutes before she’d felt so horrible? “I wish I weren’t me,” she said. “Every time I look in the mirror, I wonder. Who am I? Where did I come from? Why was I given away?”
“Ted, the guy on my track team, says he wonders the same thing, and he’s known all his life he was adopted. I guess that part wouldn’t be different whether you’d known all along or not.”
“The not knowing is getting to me, Scott. I find myself thinking about my mother and wondering who my real parents are, where they are. I wonder if my real mother ever thinks about me.”
“Ted wonders the same thing, but he says there’s a difference between wanting to know and wanting to search.”
“Search?” Sarah asked, suddenly interested in Ted in a new light. “You mean go find his real parents?”
“His birth parents,” Scott corrected. “That’s the term he uses. He says he’s curious, but not enough to hurt his adoptive parents. They’ve really been good to him, and he doesn’t want them to think he’s ungrateful.”
“It’s natural to want to know,” Sarah said slowly, turning the matter over in her mind. She identified with Scott’s friend, Ted, completely. “There’s nothing disloyal in wanting to know.”
“Who knows,” Scott speculated, “maybe you have blood brothers and sisters somewhere whose bone marrow would match yours.”
Sarah bolted upright on the sofa. “Do you suppose Ted could find his birth mother if he really wanted to?”
Scott tipped his head thoughtfully. “In the first place, Ted doesn’t want to, but even if he did, it might be tricky.”
“Why?”
“Well, you have to figure that if a mother gives up her baby for adoption, she must have some good reasons.”
“A person has a right to know where he or she comes from,” Sarah argued.
“What if the mother doesn’t want to be found?” Scott asked. “Doesn’t she have a right to her privacy?”
Not when someone’s life depends on finding her, Sarah thought. “Your friend may change his mind someday,” Sarah said. “Then you’ll feel differently about her right to privacy.”
Scott gave her a level look. “I’m not arguing for or against it. I’m just repeating what he and I’ve talked about. Don’t forget, it might cost a lot of money to dig up the past,” Scott added.
Sarah stared at him open-mouthed. “A lot of money?”
“Sure. Everything costs money—not that it should stop a person, but it’s a consideration.”
Sarah chewed on her bottom lip, her mind racing with possibilities. Why hadn’t she thought about this before? She had money now. Plenty of money. Didn’t the wish letter from JWC say she could spend it on anything she wanted? What could be more important than finding her birth mother? What could be more important than discovering if she had siblings with compatible bone marrow? Her very life could depend on finding these people. Sarah practically jumped up from the sofa. “I’ve got to go,” she said.
Scott stood beside her. “You can stay longer. You can call your mom and tell her you’re over here—”
Sarah interrupted him. “I have to talk to my parents right away.”
“About searching for your birth mother? I can tell you’ve decided you have a right to do that,” Scott said quietly.
“Why not?” Sarah challenged. “Maybe your friend feels comfortable in his home, but I don’t in mine.”
She rushed to the door, and he followed. On the front porch, she turned and looked at Scott. “Thank you for telling me what you did. You may have helped me save my life.”
As she darted back toward her house, she realized that Scott had asked her to stay longer with him. It made her happy, but now the magnitude of the task that lay ahead of her was all she could think about.
Eight
WHEN SARAH WALKED into the kitchen, her parents were waiting for her. As she came inside, her father rose. “Where were you?”
“Next door, at Scott’s,” Sarah answered. “I needed to talk to someone.”
“Sit down,” her father said. “It’s past time that we talked.”
Sarah knew there would be no escaping a confrontation. It didn’t matter. She wanted everything out in the open. She sat at the table and thought about the hundreds of meals they’d eaten there as a family. It seemed like only yesterday that Richie’s high chair had been in use.
Her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “First of all, your mother and I are very disappointed in the way you handled telling Tina about your adoption. We agree that she should know, but it was something we should have sat down and discussed as a family.”
Sarah felt words of defense rise up in her mouth, but her father cut off her response with a look of warning. “We are a family, Sarah. Whether you like it or not right now, we’re the only parents you’ve ever known, and you are our daughter—in both the legal and the moral sense of the word.”
“I know finding out the way you did hasn’t been easy on you,” her mother added. “Sarah, when the doctors told us about the bone marrow transplant, we were heartsick in more ways than one.”
“I bet,” Sarah challenged.
“We knew we couldn’t help you. You can’t imagine how we feel. We’ve raised you, loved you, been through all your medical treatments with you, and now that you need us—need us in a life-and-death matter—we can’t help you.”
Her mother wiped away a tear that had slid down her cheek. Sarah felt a lump rise in her throat and quickly glanced away. “You are my daughter, Sarah,” her mother said. “If you needed a kidney and I could give you one of mine, I would do so in a heartbeat. If my bone marrow, or our father’s would work, we’d donate it to you tomorrow. We’d let Tina or Richie do the same without ever thinking twice, if it would help.”
“But you can’t,” Sarah replied dully. “No one here can help me.”
Her father came quickly to her side, stooped down, and put his arm around her shoulders. “We can’t donate bone marrow, but we can see you through the next few, uncertain months while the hospital searches for a suitable donor. We’ll always be here for you, through the good times and the bad.”
Her father’s gentle touch made Sarah’s hostility vanish like water down a drain. The burden
of her hurt and anger had grown heavy and made her miserable. Sarah turned her face into her dad’s chest and allowed herself to cry. Surrounded by his embrace, she felt comforted, much as she had when she’d been a small child, running to him when she got hurt. After a few moments, she pulled away and looked at him, then turned to her mother. She knew that now was the time to tell them about the One Last Wish letter and check. “I have something to show you both,” she said. “It’s up in my room. I’ll bring it down for you to see.”
As she went to her room, she passed Tina’s closed door. Sarah hesitated. For a moment, Sarah wanted to go inside and apologize. Tina had thought she had a sister, and now she knew she didn’t.
Sarah shook her head, feeling overwhelmed by the complications the truth had brought. She realized that now wasn’t the time to talk to Tina. Sarah went to her room, pulled the envelope containing the letter and check out from its hiding place, and went downstairs. She handed it over to her father. “When I was in the hospital, I found this on my bedside table one evening. I don’t know who left it, but I think you’d better read it.”
Her mother moved her chair next to her dad’s. Sarah watched their faces. “Is it for real?” Sarah asked them.
“It looks real,” her father said, holding the check up to the light. “ ‘Richard Holloway, Esq., Administrator,’ ” he read off the bottom of the check. “Evidently, he’s in charge of this foundation, so he should be easy enough to check out. I’ll take this to a bank to determine its authenticity. It’s a lot of money for a complete stranger to have handed out with no strings,” He sounded skeptical.
“Who could have done such a thing?” her mother asked, flabbergasted. “Who’s this JWC? Someone at the hospital?”
Sarah shook her head. “Believe me, I’ve racked my brain trying to figure it out. I don’t know—I wondered if it might be my birth mother.”
“I don’t think so,” Sarah’s mother said.
“I think we should call Dr. Hernandez and see if she knows anything about this foundation,” her father suggested.