Chapter One

"Wendy, it's time to get up, kiddo." Wendy's dad poked his head into her room. "How'd you sleep?"

Morning already?

Wendy sighed and stretched in bed, elongating her weary muscles. How much sleep would she need to get for her body to finally feel normal again? It seemed she'd already broken records on the number of hours spent in one day with her eyes closed.

"I slept alright. Thanks, Dad." Sometimes it was best just to lie.

Her dad stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching her. "Mom made breakfast. Better get it while it's still warm — or before your brothers eat it all." He gave her a grin that never reached his eyes, then vanished down the hallway leaving her alone.

Wendy let out a long yawn, not even bothering to cover her mouth. The past several nights she'd experienced the annoyance of being only half asleep, her slumber interrupted by periods of uninvited wakefulness. All to be expected, she supposed. But Dad didn't need to hear about it. All he'd do is worry. She yawned again.

Untangling herself from the covers, Wendy crawled out of bed and stood up on one shaky leg and then another. She slipped her arms through the sleeves of her favorite fuzzy pink robe as her foot fished around for the slippers hiding underneath her bed. One by one, she slid them onto socked feet. If she didn't dress appropriately, her parents would have a fit. "You'll catch your death of a cold," her mother would no doubt scold. Wendy knew they meant well, but she wished her parents would stop treating her like a child. After all, she was fifteen. Old enough to dress herself, that was for sure.

In the bright morning sun that filtered in through slanted blinds, Wendy fixed her hair and shuffled down the stairs. The smell of maple and warm brown sugar grew stronger as she made her way closer. Stepping slowly so she didn't trip, every other stair creaked underneath her weight.

Chaos filled the kitchen as the Darling's lost themselves to their morning routine. Her mom scrambled around, serving breakfast and packing lunches; her dad grabbing a quick bite before racing off to the office. As usual, John and Michael argued about God knew what, as they shoved forkfuls of pancake into their mouths before the school bus arrived.

With amusement, Wendy sunk into a chair at the table, her gaze fixed on her younger brothers' antics. Absentmindedly, she scratched around the catheter embedded into the crook of her arm.

"Leave it alone," her mother warned, glancing from the corner of her eye.

Wendy's mouth tugged up at the corner and she folded her hands into her lap to keep them still. The damn thing itched like crazy sometimes, how could she not scratch? Of course, her mother never missed a thing.

Her attention returned to John and Michael, and she smiled as they dashed around, gathering their supplies.

Compared to her siblings, Wendy had always felt rather ... ordinary. There was nothing really special about her. She was no great intellect like John, or sports hero like Michael. She'd never won any awards or trophies, and she certainly wasn't on anyone's list of most promising individuals. Although, she did enjoy painting. Wendy could lose herself in a mural, spending the whole day blending colors until they swirled together perfectly. And as of late, that's exactly what she did. It was one of the few things she had to look forward to.

Her father had recently painted one wall in Wendy's bedroom white and provided her with the materials she'd need to create her own masterpiece. She'd already covered the surface twice with her imaginative doodles. And after she'd finished, her father repainted, giving her a blank slate to start all over again.

It felt nice to escape. At least for a little while.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Her mom planted a good morning peck on her head before setting a plate of pancakes in front of her, still steaming from the griddle. "You look a little pale."

Wendy reached for the bottle of syrup. "Oh, you know ..." She shrugged. "The same as always, I guess." She was well-versed on the side effects of her medications so she never expected anything more than the usual exhausted feeling she'd been living with for the past several months.

"I'm sorry." Mom smiled ruefully. "With any luck you won't be on this medication much longer and you can go back to feeling like your normal self again."

Wendy closed her eyes as her mom gave a her comforting rub on the back, her fingers probing into the tense muscles.

Feeling like herself again. Wendy sighed. It had been so long since she'd felt like herself. Too long. She could barely remember what normal even felt like.

"Do you have much schoolwork to do today?" Dad asked, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his navy blue dress jacket.

Wendy shook her head. "Not too much. I should be done with everything in a few hours."

The plus side of being home-schooled was that it didn't take nearly as long to finish the work as it did when you attended traditional school. But it's not like it mattered anyway. Wendy already struggled with trying to find entertaining ways to fill her free hours. When she wasn't painting, she found herself bored to tears.

The majority of her sophomore year had been spent learning at home, shortly after her blood cells declared an all-out war against her body. The traitors. She really missed hanging out with her friends and the excitement she felt walking down the long, crowded corridors. Even thinking about cafeteria's mundane lunch menu brought a tear to her eye.

Who would have ever thought she'd think such a thing? How quickly circumstances can change. She found it sadly amusing how meaningless life could feel when you didn't have a place to get up and go to everyday. Even if that place was high school.

"Okay, then." Dad gave everyone a quick kiss goodbye. "I'll see you when I get home." And with that, he grabbed his brief case and hurried out the door.

It was the same repetitive cycle that took place every weekday morning at the Darling house, and all Wendy could do was sit back and watch everyone start their days. Her mom worked at home, which left her with plenty of time to hover over her daughter, expectant eyes darting her way every other second just to make sure Wendy felt okay. Mostly, she felt grateful for her mother's consistent presence — especially during times when she felt sick. Luckily, those days had been few and far between. But every once in a while the constant lingering got to be a little too much. She felt trapped like a bug under the blinding lights of a microscope as people stood around waiting for something to happen. Waiting to see what dirty little tricks her white bloods cells would play next. Waiting to see which medications worked and which ones didn't.

After seeing everyone off, Mom cleaned up the kitchen and gave Wendy a big hug then vanished into the study to edit an article she'd been writing for the local paper. Alone in the big, empty kitchen, Wendy allowed herself to daydream about what she would be doing if she were at school.

Would she be walking with Jason Harper down the hall, his hand warm and protectively as it closed around hers? They'd just begun getting to know each other better before Wendy had been forced to leave school. She'd had a crush on him her entire first year at Kingsley High, but Jason had no idea Wendy even existed.

She still remembered the first time she'd ever seen him walking down the corridor. Waves of dark blonde hair and eyes so blue they'd completely hypnotized her. She had a hard time looking away. By sheer coincidence they ended up in three classes together this year, and it wasn't long before they were paired up by the science teacher to dissect a frog in class. Their romance began over a picked-apart digestive system. Perfection.

Doesn't it just figure. She should have known it was all too good to be true.

If she wasn't hanging out with Jason, then she'd probably be with her best friend Elizabeth, laughing and goofing off together at the locker they shared. Now she couldn't even remember the last time Lizzy had called. Most friends just didn't understand.

What was it about sick people that made everyone so nervous? It's not like she was contagious or anything. Wendy's mom had tried to explain that some people were just afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. But Wendy didn't understand that. She didn't care what Elizabeth or Jason said. She just wished they would say something ... anything!

Just when I needed them most, they weren't there.

She knew she shouldn't feel so betrayed, but she just couldn't help it. Their absence stung, even worse than the port in her arm. Without question, the most difficult thing she'd had to endure this past year was the loss of her closest friends.

Of course, there were also some good things that had happened over the past several months. Wendy had made many new friends at the Childrens' Hospital. Friends who understood her and what she was going through. Friends who weren't afraid to say or do the wrong thing, and friends who were okay if Wendy cried on their shoulder from time to time. They never made her feel guilty or weird about it.

Take Evelyn, for instance. Evelyn was one of the nicest people Wendy had ever met, and she felt blessed to call her "best friend" these days.

Evelyn had helped Wendy tremendously during the beginning, and the love and gratitude she felt for her was beyond explanation. Wendy never felt awkward or uncomfortable around Evelyn, and most importantly, Evelyn never made her feel like a freak. Whether they were gossiping about boys, sharing their dreams for the future, or laughing about nothing at all, Wendy knew she'd found a true friend. One who wouldn't give up on her when the going got tough.

And that friendship made Wendy's life a little easier to live.

Sounds like Wendy might be sick? Thank goodness for good friends like Evelyn!

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