“I suppose. Funny how Dusty will sit and talk to those old folks but hides from people her own age.”
“Maybe the elders are so grateful for company, they make her feel welcome and don’t judge her if she has a smudge of dirt on her nose, or she says something awkward,” Thistle said. “Maybe she collects stories about olden times from them. They don’t get bored talking about the past.”
“I’ll make up a list of candidates,” Ms. Boland said. “And I’ll chip in ten bucks a week.”
“Wh… what about Dusty telling me to move out?” Thistle asked on a sniff.
“I’ll talk to my little sister. As far as I’m concerned, you should stay with us. We’re right in the middle of the district you need to patrol.”
“Thank you. I know how to be a friend. I can do this. You can trust me to be a friend to these people.” Thistle placed her hand on his chest and looked up at him with deep purple eyes full of gratitude and… and something Dick couldn’t quite define.
His heart melted, and logic flew out the window. He knew those eyes. He’d seen that expression before… The day he wiped her wings free of the dog drool Chase had used to glue them together.
Chase turned away from Dick in embarrassment. Thistle was looking at him in awe, as if he was a superhero.
That was his friend, Dick. Defender of the innocent, protector of the vulnerable. Who was it had first given him that nickname?
Chase thought it was his youngest sister Ginny who’d first used the phrase. How many years ago?
Their sophomore year in high school. Spring term…
Chase threw his book bag onto the bench seat of the booth in the far back corner of Norton’s Family Diner, the booth Mom reserved for Chase and his friends after school. He and his sisters had to come here and do homework right after school. That was the rule. This wasn’t football or wrestling season, so he’d jogged down from school as soon as the final bell rang at the end of eighth period. He had to jog everywhere to keep in shape.
“Mom, can I have a Coke?” he called into the back.
“Help yourself, dear. And fix glasses for your sisters,” his mother leaned out the order window from the kitchen.
The smell of hot grease for fries and grilled burgers made his stomach growl. “The girls aren’t here yet. Ginny has play practice and Lynette wants to watch cheerleading practice so that she can learn some moves and try out in the fall,” he said, explaining their absence. “Can I have a burger?” he asked hopefully as he pulled the lever on the soft drink machine and watched the brown liquid foam on top.
“Your dad’s cleaning the grill. It will take a while to bring it up to temperature again. How about a piece of pie. I think there’s still some fresh apple.” His mother ducked back into the kitchen.
Chase studied the pies in the rack. The apple was almost gone. Maybe he should save that for Dick; it was his favorite, and he hadn’t been too happy lately, what with Dusty in the hospital and all. “I’ll have the lemon meringue,” he said to his mother.
He’d barely settled at the table with his math book when Dick slumped through the door. He dragged his book bag on the floor and practically fell across the bench seat.
Mom saw him coming and placed the last piece of apple pie in front of him along with a tall glass of milk. His mother’s rule.
“How was school today?” she asked them both.
“Biology’s a bunch of crap,” Chase spat. His text sat in the bottom of his bag, practically accusing him of neglect.
“No, it’s not. It’s the best class I’ve got,” Dick responded, perking up a bit. He took a big bite of pie. “It’s World History that’s too boring for words, and Dusty’s too sick to help me with it.” His fork sank back to his plate, and he looked like his pie tasted bad, but he was too polite to spit it out.
“Any news about your sister?” Mom sat down next to Chase and leaned across the table toward Dick. She patted his hand.
Chase suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy, sort of like when he made a touchdown in the first quarter of his first junior varsity football game. His mom was the best, letting the kids hang out here after school, making sure they got snacks-often without paying for them-and just being a good mom to all of them.
Especially now that Dick’s folks spent so much time at the hospital with Dusty.
Ginny and Lynette burst through the front door in a clatter of laughter and banging books. Five other kids, mostly juniors, followed them and took a seat across the way. At thirteen, his sister Lynette was just beginning to show signs of growing up. Chase worried about her and the rough boys in her class. He knew what guys thought of girls. She wasn’t safe. He’d have to have a word with some of them, prove to them they didn’t want to mess with her, or they’d have to mess with him. Ginny was eleven and still very much a little girl. She spent a lot of time with Dusty, despite the two-year difference in their ages. At least she had until Dusty went to the hospital nearly a month ago.
The girls went about fixing their own snacks. They wanted the chocolate cake instead of pie. Too sweet by half for Chase, especially with the Coke.
“How’s Dusty?” Ginny asked right off, like she did every day.
Dick kept his face down and didn’t answer. If Chase didn’t know better, he’d think Dick was crying.
He wiped his face and looked out the window at another troop of kids aiming for the front door. These were seniors, and the entire crowd orbited them, hoping for a crumb of wisdom or a brief glance of notice.
“What is it, dear? Maybe we can help,” Mom said to Dick while keeping an eye on the newcomers.
“No one can help. Dusty’s got leukemia. It’s a kind of cancer.” Dick gulped his milk, his Adam’s apple bobbing suspiciously fast as he drank.
“Leukemia. That can be bad.” Mom sat back a bit. “Depends on the kind of leukemia. There’s one that I’ve heard has a really good recovery rate, if they catch it early.”
“Th… that’s what the doctors told my folks. They caught it early. They can treat it with chemo. But they want to wait until they have a bone marrow donor lined up for afterward. If they can’t get a perfect match, they don’t know if she’ll get better or not, even with chemo.’Cause the chemo destroys her marrow and her immune system. She can’t live long…”
“I’ll donate,” Chase said. Why had he volunteered so fast? Dusty was okay, for a girl. Really smart about some things, but just so little, five years younger than him. Last time he’d seen her, she’d looked pale as a ghost and had no energy or sense of humor or anything.
“Doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid, Chase,” Mom said. She hugged him tight. “But it was really good of you to offer.”
“The doctors said I was the best chance of a match,” Dick said quietly. “But it’s still only a chance.”
“When will you know?” Chase asked. He could see how much Dick was hurting. Chase felt a tightness in his chest, too. He wanted to help. He really did. He just didn’t know how.
“I’m having a blood test tomorrow,” Dick said. “Since I’m fifteen now, they don’t see a problem in taking my marrow if it matches. Little kids sometimes have a problem donating ’cause their bones aren’t big enough.”
“Why?” Chase asked.
“Do your biology homework and you might find out!” Dick grinned at him. “I’ll help you with it. I’m doing an extra credit report on the DNA of siblings because of Dusty and me being a donor and all.”
“You sound like you want to be a doctor,” Lynette said. She made goo-goo eyes at Dick. She’d had a crush on him for a couple of weeks now. Chase wasn’t sure he liked that. If she and Dick started to really like each other, he might have to hit Dick if he got too fresh with his sister.
“I made up my mind this morning,” Dick said, lifting his head proudly. “I’m going to be a doctor. And I’ll find a cure for leukemia so that no other little kid has to be as sick as my sister.”