The Other Side of the Tracks

Chapter Eight

 A/N: I know you all saw this coming but let me assure you that there will be an ending that you (hopefully) won't expect.

      Chapter Eight

    Grayson

    “I’m sorry, young man, but that information is classified,” the doctor says, turning away from me to flip through the papers on his clipboard. “I don’t know why you would ask such a question.”

      “It’s not necessarily about Lily,” I respond. “It’s about Meadow, the girl in there with her.”

      The man purses his lips and turns back to me, staring through his thin glasses. “And what about her?” he asks.

      “She’s dying because she is far down the list for a heart donor. How can she be moved up? Is there a way she can get a heart sooner?”

      The doctor holds my gaze for a few moments. His brown eyes are serious and for a minute, I think he might just turn and walk away. But after some thinking, he chooses his words carefully and sighs.

      “I don’t think so, no.” He wrinkles his forehead, thinking. “The only tome I’ve seen someone on the list get a new organ before the person on the top is when a relative passes away and the family wants to donate to their member who is sick.”

      I don’t hesitate. “So if Meadow had a grandmother who passed away she could get her heart?”

      The doctor nods. “Is that all?”

      “Yes.” I thank him and turn to leave.

     

      The air outside is cold against my skin. I do up the zipper of my grey jacket higher so it rests just below my chin. My hands clench and unclench inside my jean pockets as I run over everything Meadow’s ever said to me in my mind, trying to think of if she has any relatives nearby.

      I come up with nothing.

      “I’m being stupid,” I mutter to myself. My voice catches in the wind and my words are carried away before anyone can hear them. “If Meadow had a relative that could donate her parents would have been on them the moment they heard the news.”

      I let my head drop as I walk so that I’m staring at the ground. I can’t think of any way I can keep my best friend here with me. I don’t want to live without her, waking up every day to remember that she’s not here.

      I don’t want to dream about her every night, being haunted of the fact that the one person I could completely give myself to, is gone.

      I shake my head as I reach my house. Sliding down onto the front steps, I slump into a sitting position. Though it’s cold, I don’t want to go inside yet. I feel like being cold is a good distraction from being heartbroken.

      “Grayson?”

      I turn my head around, stiff from freezing.

      “What are you doing outside?” my mother asks, her tone worried. Before I can open my mouth she’s grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. “Come inside.”

       I sit on the couch in the living room as she cooks dinner. It’s soup and fills the whole house with a warm smell. Leaning on the armrest, I feel completely defeated. It’s like all the life and hope has been sucked out of me, not letting one drop remain. I don’t think I can do this anymore, trying and then feeling helpless.

      “On a heartfelt note,” the TV buzzes in front of me. “We hate to report that a young girl has taken her own life today.”

      I haven’t been listening to the TV. My mother turned it on when she saw me slumped in front of it and I think she likes the noise. It’s been playing the news ever since and though I’ve been staring at it this entire time, I haven’t been seeing what’s really on it.

      The current news sparks my interest.

      “Police are not revealing details but a close friend of the family has said that though they are devastated, they’re going to be donating their daughter’s belongings to charities.”

      The news reporter’s picture fades away and a woman in her early sixties comes onto screen, standing outside in the street. The wind keeps blowing into the microphone that’s held up to her and it creates a distracting sound.

      “The daughter left a note,” the woman says sadly. “She didn’t want her parents to keep her things. She wanted them to go to girls that need them. It’s hard to think that in her last moments she was looking out for other children.”

      I blink a few times. It’s like every, single puzzle piece in my head has been floating there since Meadow broke the news to me. They all start coming together, one at a time, slowly building the bigger picture. I feel like I should have seen this all along; like I’ve been so blind.

      Suddenly I gasp for air. I hadn’t realized that I wasn’t breathing but instead holding a breath. I feel my mother’s worried stare from the kitchen but I ignore it.

      I can’t believe what I’m thinking but I can’t think otherwise. I know how to save Meadow. I know how to keep my best friend alive.