Maybe One Day (16 page)

It took me about a thousandth of a second to answer my own question: the nice one. She was the nice one, and I was the funny one. Which was kind of just another way of saying Olivia was the nice one and I was the bitch.

God, what was wrong with me? Even little kids knew I wasn’t nice. I had to be nicer to people. I looked at myself in the mirror. “I vow to be nicer to people.”

A second later, the bathroom door opened and Stacy Shaw walked in.

“Really?” I said to the universe. “You’re
seriously
testing me on this right now?”

“He-ey,” Stacy said, giving me an enormous grin. “Are you on the phone or something?”

“No, I’m just talking to myself.”

“Oh,” said Stacy. “That’s cool. I do it all the time.” She looked at herself in the mirror, fluffing her hair. “We’ll see you at the car wash later, right?”

“Of course. I mean, I don’t have a car or anything. But my mom and dad do.”

“Oh, good,” said Stacy. She opened her purse and fished
out a large cosmetics bag, from which she removed a lip liner. “You can donate blood, too. If you’re seventeen.”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

“That’s okay.” Carefully tracing her lips, Stacy continued. “I just want, like, everyone to come out to show support for Olivia,”

As irritating as she was, I had to be grateful to her for all the work she was doing. I mean, it wasn’t like
I’d
been busy recruiting people to come to the car wash.

“Are you going over to school now?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off Stacy as she slathered her lips with gloss. “I mean, to set up?”

“Oh, not yet.” She blotted her lips with a tissue. “We’ve got an away game.”

“You’re
cheering
today? And
then
you’re doing the car wash?”

“Mmm, yeah,” said Stacy. She smiled at me. “So, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Later.”

“I mean, I actually kind of have respect for Stacy,” I said to Livvie. We were sitting in the backseat of her dad’s car en route to the car wash. I had a container of brownies on my lap that my mom had helped me bake for the bake sale. Olivia’s dad was driving; her mom was in the passenger seat. On the radio, jazz played quietly. “It’s weird.”

Livvie shook her head. “I hear you. But don’t try and tell
me about weird. I spent the morning wig shopping.”

“It looks amazing, Livvie!” I assured her once again. “Seriously. You did
such
a good job.”

She put her hand to her head. “Do you think so? It feels . . . I don’t know, artificial.”

Despite her plans to get an outrageous wig, Livvie had actually gone with one that was almost exactly like her real hair, only shorter and with bangs that the wig seller had said would make the hair look more natural. It did look natural. Kind of. If you didn’t look too closely, you couldn’t tell, except that Livvie’s real hair had been such a distinct color that the wig was blah in comparison. But it wasn’t like there was anything she could do about having the most beautiful blond hair in the world.

“It doesn’t look artificial,” I assured her. “Actually, your
real
hair probably looked more artificial than the wig does. Everyone probably thought you dyed it to get it that color.”

“Okay, that’s, like, the weirdest compliment ever,” she said, but she was smiling.

Her dad pulled onto Westerly Road. Even though the car wash had only started about twenty minutes earlier, there was already a line of cars waiting to get into the school parking lot. A banner nearly fifty feet long hung across the fence next to the road.

BAKE SALE, BLOOD DRIVE,
AND CAR WASH TODAY!
WASH YOUR CAR. SAVE A LIFE.
SUPPORT OLIVIA GRECO!

She slid down a little in her seat. “This is weird.”

She was right. It
was
weird. As we pulled forward, you could see all the cheerleaders, in their uniforms, washing cars. The football team was also washing cars, but they were in regular clothes. In the far corner of the parking lot a bloodmobile was parked, and a few people were lined up, waiting to donate blood.

“See, honey!” her mom said from the passenger seat. “Everyone loves you. Jake said the team couldn’t
wait
to participate.”

“The football team loves you,” I whispered.

“I feel like such a tramp,” she whispered back.

We pulled into the parking lot. “Do you want to get out and walk around?” I asked. “I mean, you’re kind of the guest of honor.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s weird. It’s weird if I get out. It’s weird if I don’t get out.” She rubbed her hands together nervously.

I turned to face her. “Liv, people really want to see you. They do. I make fun of Stacy and Emma and you know I really do think they’re mentally disabled, but they seriously
care
.” She laughed. “Stop! I’m being serious. Look, I know we
joke about how it’s just the two of us in our own little universe, but everyone’s always asking about you. Really. Bethany and Lashanna and Mia and . . . just all the other girls on the soccer team. And in class. You know how I used to come to the hospital and say that everyone asked about you?”

“Yeah.” She looked doubtful.

“Well, it’s true.
Everyone
. I must tell a hundred people a day how you’re doing. So, I mean, if you’re tired, don’t worry about it. But if you feel okay, you should get out of the car. People really
do
love you.”

A tear rolled down Livvie’s cheek, and she put her forehead on my shoulder. “I am such a cheese ball.”

“No you’re not,” I assured her, laughing.

“Okay.” She wiped her face. “Mom, Dad. I’m going in. I mean out.” Olivia put her hand on the door and cracked it open. But before she could step out of the car, her mom stopped her.

“Wait.” Mrs. Greco reached into her bag. “I’d feel better if you’d wear this.” When she turned around, she was holding what looked like a piece of white fabric.

“What is it?” asked Olivia, puzzled.

“It’s a surgical mask,” said her mom. She smiled nervously.

“You want me to wear a
mask
?” Olivia sounded horrified. “Today?”

“Adriana,” said Mr. Greco, his voice low, “I thought we agreed. Dr. Maxwell said she only had to wear it if she was
going to be
indoors
in a crowd.”

Her mother gestured to the lawn, which held a significant portion of the student population. “Are you trying to tell me this isn’t a crowd?”

“But it’s
outside
, Mom.”

“That’s enough,” said her dad, glancing at Olivia in the rearview mirror. He didn’t raise his voice, but Olivia got quiet. I would have also. If my dad said,
That’s enough
, you might say,
Says who?
But there’s no way you’d say that to Olivia’s dad.

I was positive he was going to make her wear the mask, but all he did was put his hand on Mrs. Greco’s hand. “Adriana, let her go.”

There was a long pause. I could hear the hum of the car’s engine and the muffled sounds of people outside talking and laughing. The car in front of us pulled up, but Mr. Greco didn’t move.

Olivia’s mom gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Okay,” she whispered. Then she turned around. “You can stay.
For one hour
.”

“For
one hour
?” Livvie’s mouth opened into a shocked O.

“Olivia.” Her dad’s tone required no elaboration.

“Fine,” Olivia said. She started to get out of the car, but then she stopped and leaned forward. “Thanks,” she said. Her dad stroked her cheek briefly, then gestured at the empty space in front of us. “Come on already! I gotta get my car washed here.”

I hadn’t realized that the air-conditioning was on in the car, but stepping out into the sticky warmth of the afternoon made me feel its absence. Still, I couldn’t exactly be sorry that it was unseasonably warm for the last weekend in October. Thanks to climate change, Olivia could be outside.

The car wash was set up at the corner of the parking lot nearest the school. All around on the lawn people were hanging out, manning tables that sold T-shirts, mugs, and glasses. Tacked up to the building was a sign that said
NATIONAL BONE MARROW REGISTRY. SIGN UP. YOU COULD SAVE A LIFE
. Underneath it, an older woman sat at a table.

Mr. Greco pulled the car forward as Olivia and I walked over to the lawn. We passed a cluster of freshman and sophomore girls, and as we walked by, one of them whispered something to the others. “Hey, Olivia!” one of them called. Olivia and I turned. The girl was waving shyly.

Livvie hesitated. “What am I supposed to do?” she whispered.

I waved at the girl. “Hey!” I called to her. Through my smile I told Olivia to wave also, and Livvie raised her hand and waved.

“Okay, this is bizarre,” she said.

“I think we can stop waving now.”

“Hey, Olivia!” Lashanna and Mia were standing a few feet away, and we walked over to them. They were both wearing their soccer uniforms, with T-shirts over them bearing the
logo for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

“How’s it going?” asked Lashanna.

“Okay,” said Livvie. “Nice T-shirt.”

“Thanks,” said Lashanna. She spun around so we could read the back, which said
FUND THE CURE TO FIND THE CURE
.

“Is it weird to be a cause?” asked Mia.

Livvie laughed. “Yeah, kinda.”

Jake came over to where we were standing. “Hey, little sister,” he said. “You gonna make yourself useful and wash some cars?” His wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he was pretty wet.

“Sure,” she said, laughing. He put his arm around her. “Come on. I’ll take you over to say hi to some of the guys.”

Livvie walked a few steps with Jake, then turned back to me. “You coming?”

“In a sec,” I said. “I’ve got to drop these off.” I indicated the container of brownies.

I watched Livvie and Jake make their way through the crowd. Everyone they passed, when they realized who Olivia was, wanted to hug her, but I saw Jake gently keep them away, more like a bodyguard than a brother. People’s being so excited to see Livvie, their wanting to touch and talk to her, made me feel better about Wamasset High and a little stupid for how down on it I tended to get. These were good people.

These were Olivia’s people.

I gave my brownies to the girls running the bake sale and
bought a chocolate chip cookie for a dollar. While I ate it, I wandered over to the bone marrow registry table.

Sean Miller was talking to the woman sitting there. There was a pile of brochures lying next to them, and I grabbed one.
Every year, thousands of people wait for a bone marrow transplant. Could you be the one to save a life?
There was a rainbow coalition of people in the photo on the front page. Inside were frequently asked questions. I skimmed through them, stopping on
Does it hurt to donate bone marrow?
According to the pamphlet,
Bone marrow is extracted from the back of the pelvic bone using a hollow needle designed for this purpose
.

Ouch. I stopped reading.

The woman handed Sean a Q-tip. “Wipe the inside of your cheek,” she told him. When he’d finished, she slipped the Q-tip into a little container. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks for registering.”

“Sure,” he said. “No problem.”

He said hi to me and headed back to the car wash area. I stepped over to the spot he’d vacated. “I’d like to register,” I said.

“Okay.” She had bright red hair that looked dyed. Or maybe it was a wig. I wondered if she had cancer. “Are you eighteen or older?”

“Me?” For a second I considered lying. But it seemed unlikely a hospital wouldn’t figure out my age at some point. “No. I’m almost seventeen.”

“Are you a sibling?” she asked.

I shook my head. Once again family trumped friendship.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it’s disappointing. But you should feel free to make a donation to the program.” She handed me the brochure I’d put down.

“Thanks,” I said. Having my parents write a check wasn’t exactly the same as giving Olivia a life-saving bone marrow transplant.

The woman gave me an understanding smile. “If it’s any consolation, the odds of nonrelatives being a match are low. Does your friend need a bone marrow transplant?”

I shook my head. “She’s having chemotherapy. It’s working really well, so the doctors don’t think she’ll need one.”

“Well, that’s good news at least. Still, consider supporting the registry.” She took another pamphlet off the stack and went to give it to me, but I showed her the one already in my hand. Then I thanked her and headed over to the car wash area.

Olivia was talking to her brother, Stacy, and Emma. Except for Olivia, everyone was soaked, though the girls had managed not to get their hair wet. From a distance, with her wig, Livvie really did look normal. Her grandmother was right about her being too thin, but she’d always been thin, and in her long-sleeved T-shirt and skirt and leggings, you couldn’t exactly tell how thin she was. While I watched, she said something to Jake, and he laughed. As soon as Jake laughed, Emma started
laughing.

A few feet away, Calvin and Delford were washing a car. They were both wearing shorts and no shirts, and I found myself staring at Calvin. He really had a sick body. His arms and legs were muscular, and his abs were perfect. His shaggy hair was longer than most of the other football players’. I watched while he pushed it out of his face, then bent over to wash his sponge out in the bucket at his feet.

God, he was hot. He was
seriously
hot. Now that I didn’t find his hotness irritating, I could appreciate its power. As I stood there watching Calvin spray water at the car, Livvie called my name.

I snapped around to look at her. She was smiling. “What’s up?” she yelled. “You look like you’re in a trance or something.”

I walked over to where she was standing, laughing at her question and making a mental note to admit that, after having given her so much crap for liking him, I could now fully appreciate what she saw in Calvin Taylor (body and soul). When I joined them, Emma gave me a kiss on my left cheek while Stacy gave me one on my right cheek. “Hi-ii!” said Stacy.