Shine - Lauren Myracle [49]
It was Christian’s turn to protest. “But, Aunt Tildy—“
Aunt Tildy whapped him again. “Nossir. You leave your sister alone.”
“Yeah,” I said. I smirked, as smirking felt called for, but in truth my emotions were more complicated. I felt choked by them, as if someone’s thumb was pressing into the hollow of my throat.
Maybe he’s changed, I thought. Maybe he’s stronger now. Maybe he will be there if I need him.
But what a dangerous game to play. He would always be my big brother. I would always be his little sister. There would always be a part of me that ached to believe in him the way I used to . . . but it was a temptation I couldn’t afford to give in to.
So I biked along the dirt road to Bailee-Ann’s house, which was closer to town and nicer than ours. It wasn’t fancy, but her daddy kept it up as best he could, with a fresh paint job and a newly mown lawn and a split-rail fence around his wife’s flower garden. Wildflowers were what Bailee-Ann’s mom liked: larkspur and violets and lady’s slippers, which Mama Sweetie called moccasin flowers.
Bailee-Ann welcomed me with a hug, which caught me off guard.
She pulled back. “You okay?” she said, her blue eyes full of concern. Most people, when they looked at me, didn’t really see me, but Bailee-Ann did.
She led me to a purple sofa patched with duct tape, which someone—probably herself—had colored with a purple marker in an attempt to make it match. On the sofa, as well as the coffee table in front of the sofa, were knitting supplies: balls of pink and blue yarn, needles, and what looked like the beginning of a leg warmer.
“It’s Patrick, isn’t it?” Bailee-Ann said. “That’s why you’re here?”
I moved a skein of yarn and sat beside her, amazed we’d gotten to the heart of the matter so quickly. My eyes teared up, and I nodded.
“You two always were close,” she said. “Have you gone to visit him?”
“No,” I said. “I tried, but they wouldn’t let me. His condition has to be more stable or something.”
“Well, my mama just knows he’s gonna be okay,” Bailee-Ann said. Her mama worked for the hospital cleaning crew. “She says the doctors are taking good care of him, and the nurses, too.”
“They think he’ll regain consciousness?” I said. “For real?”
Bailee-Ann put her hand on my knee. “Yes. It’s something about his brain waves looking good, that’s what the nurses are saying. I wish I could grow up to be a nurse, don’t you? And we could wear those cute shirts with the little teddy bears on ’em?”
“Scrubs,” I said, still drinking in the news about Patrick. Hope fluttered in my chest for the first time in days.
“Huh?”
“Scrubs. That’s what the nurses’ outfits are called.” I paused. “Or that might be just the doctors.”
“Oh my God,” she said. She picked up her knitting project and hooked a loop of yarn with one needle. “I am so marrying a doctor, and when we have our first baby, we won’t need the free hat.” She held up what she was working on. “I’ll have already made it!”
“That’s a baby hat?” I said.
“Not yet, but it will be.” She pushed up on one knee, reached behind the sofa, and came back with a plastic bin. “Like these, which I’ll get Mama to take to the hospital next week. See?”
Inside the bin were five tiny hats: three blue ones and two pink ones. They had pom-poms on top and were utterly, absolutely adorable.
“You made these?” I marveled. I picked up a blue one. “You’re good, Bailee-Ann. Like, really good.”
She was pleased, but tried to play it off. “Oh, hats are easy. Anyway, the hospital gives me the yarn.”
“And then the hats go to little babies? That’s so cool.”
“I think so, too. That’s why I said yes when the head of the volunteer program asked me to do it. I want to be a better person, you know?”
“That’s awesome,” I said. “But you’re already a good person.”
She got busy with her needles. “But I could be better. I could work harder at school and not do bad things.”
“Bad things?” I said. I returned the hat to the bin.
“I want to be, like, the best me ever, and then maybe I could grow up to marry a doctor. I’ll give him babies,