They’ll never see him get to grow old and get married, have kids, and do normal things.
But because of his death, my parents get to watch me do those things.
I look at Harlow, my breathing funny as I fight back tears.
“I shouldn’t have shown you,” she mutters, trying to take the paper back but I place my hand over it.
“No, I’m glad you did.”
“Willa …,” she starts, and I shake my head.
I stand and grab a pair of scissors, cutting out the article and picture.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
I climb the stairs to my room and clip the newspaper to my lights where my instant photos hang.
I stand there, unable to move.
I stare at the boy who had so much life left to live but doesn’t get to now, and I promise myself that I’ll live my life to the best of my abilities because he can’t.
I might not have gotten his heart, but suddenly mine seems to be beating for the both of us.
Willa: Hey, I wanted to say I heard about T.J. and I’m sorry.
I bite my lip and read my text ten times over, analyzing it like crazy every single time. I hope it doesn’t sound too insensitive but isn’t too much at the same time. I also, don’t mention that I’ve gotten a kidney. Not yet, at least. I know Harlow and Meredith wouldn’t tell anybody, because they don’t feel it’s their business to tell, and it’s not. But since chances seem likely I got T.J.’s kidney I don’t think now is the time to break that potential news to Spencer. Not that I think it’d bother him, but it couldn’t possibly be easy to hear days after your friend died.
Minutes tick by and I break out in a sweat.
I flop down on my bed, cover my face with a pillow, and scream.
I shouldn’t have said anything.
I sound like an idiot.
He’s going to think I’m crazy. It’s not like I’m friends with him, why should I be texting him about his dead best friend?
My phone vibrates, and I dive for it on the end of my bed.
Spencer: Thanks. It’s … weird. I literally saw him that day and now I’ll never see him again.
Willa: I want you to know I’m here to talk.
Spencer: That means a lot … I’m not sure I can. Not yet.
Willa: I understand.
Spencer: Would you want to come with me to his funeral tomorrow?
I hold my breath.nbsp;
Go to the funeral of my maybe donor? Uh … I might throw up if I do that. I can’t imagine having to see his family mourn for him while I sit there knowing I might have his organ inside me.
Willa: I’m sorry, but I…
Willa: I don’t think I can.