Paraplegic (COMPLETED)

Chapter 30

I felt exceptionally fatigued during my next therapy session. It was as if a worm had crawled inside of me and sucked all the energy right out of my soul. I wanted to stay home this morning. I even tried to, but mother came in and ushered me out of bed shortly after eight o'clock; I've been yawning nonstop ever since.

Desiree throws a hand over her own mouth and yawns loudly. "Now you've got me doing it!"

"Sorry."

"Any luck with Trout?"

I shake my head sluggishly. "Not even a little. He was my last hope. It's over now."

"Nothing's over till it's over. And so long as that friend of yours is still alive, there's hope."

I nod, but can't seem to share her confidence.

What were you thinking, McKenzie? Finding a heart? You can barely locate your own toothbrush in the morning. What made you think you were capable of finding a heart?

I keep thinking of it in that manner: "finding" a heart. It's not like it's some lost penny laying on the pavement or a favorite shirt that was accidentally tossed under the bed. You simply don't find a living, beating heart just anywhere.

Desiree lowers her head to look at me. "Having doubts?"

"I've been racking my brain for nearly a week now. It's not possible. It's just not possible. The only way my friend is going to get that transplant is if I . . ." The gears in my brain start turning. "Is if I build my own donor list!"

"I don't follow."

I lean forward in my wheelchair. "Des, what if I were to build my own donor list? Who handles the organ distribution in the United States?"

"That would be UNOS: United Network for Organ Sharing. Why?"

I continue thinking. "Okay. Listen. What if I was somehow able to create an independently operated organ distribution center from right here in Camden, Maine? We'd have our own little UNOS locally, affording us shorter wait times and higher transplant success rate."

She bites down on her lower lip, mulling over the idea. "I dunno. That sounds complicated. Not to mention, where would you get the kind of money needed to start a project that prodigious? We're talking millions of dollars required."

My hopes dip for just a moment. "We'd need a private investor."

"One with lots of money."

"And a genuine desire to help children."

Desiree arches a neatly groomed eyebrow. "Sound like someone we know?"

I start to see where she's headed with this conversation. "This could work. This could actually work!"

* * *

The parallel bars are to my right; chrome gleaming beneath the overhead track lights. A part of me wants to use them again, but maybe that's only because I'm feeling elated from believing that I still have a chance to save Kalyope. But the other day when I stood on my own two feet; that feeling—regardless of how short-lived it may have been—it was . . . breathtaking.

"Wanna give it another go?" Desiree sees me staring at the bars.

I release a puff of air with my words. "No. I'm not ready. Not yet."

"You'll get there, hon." She lays a comforting hand on my shoulder.

Movement from beyond the bay windows catches my eye. Maverick is briskly pacing back and forth in front of the hedge maze entrance, arms flailing around wildly, talking to himself in a very animated manner. He looks troubled.