After his meteoric rise to superstardom, Jim O'Brien is no longer a small-town boy who plays in bars and dreams of success. His handsome face is plastered on the covers of celebrity gossip magazines, and his voice alone is enough to make girls swoon...
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The silence in my bedroom was absolute. Ivy, Tasha, and I stared at Isla at a loss for words. I already knew what happened, but the girls didn't.
"Baby, I'm so sorry," Ivy whispered and sat next to Isla on my bed. "Did you talk to the doctors?"
Isla nodded, studying her hands clasped in her lap. "I did, and Ava's dad did, too. A heart transplant is the only option. She's on the list, but it might take months, and we're not sure she has so much time left. She's been feeling bad and hid it from me. Maybe if I'd known sooner-"
"No," I said, lacing Isla's fingers with mine. "You're not to blame. Nobody's to blame. Dad said you had to be patient, remember? A heart might appear. You never know."
"Thank you." Isla smiled and squeezed my fingers. "I just feel so helpless. Nothing depends on me. I was away; I wasn't there to notice she got worse. Maybe I should've stayed at home."
"Rose wanted you to study," Ivy said, stroking her hand down the length of Isla's long, auburn hair. "She saved for you to go to college for a reason. It's been your dream since we were in elementary school."
"The local college isn't so bad, either. I see it now that I transferred here. I could've stayed instead of...Well, okay, enough of that. We don't meet that often to spend all our time together, getting depressed. Tell me what you've been up to." Isla smiled, sweeping her gaze over the three of us.
Her optimism and kindness were some of the things about her I admired. An orphan, Isla was fostered by Rose, who became her family - the only family my best friend had. I couldn't even fathom what Isla was going through. Yet, she always found the time to meet her friends and the kind words for the people around her.
"Tea?" I asked, rising to my feet.
"Better coffee for me," Tasha said. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
"So much clubbing is bad for your skin, party animal." Ivy winked, hopping off my bed. "Let's go."
My friends sat at the kitchen table while I busied myself with the drinks. Isla cut the cake she brought, and we got ready to eat.
"Aren't you eating?" I asked Ivy, who pushed her cake aside.
"Not hungry." She sighed. "I haven't eaten since that douche canoe humiliated me in front of the entire class. He could've asked anyone, but no. He asked me because my face told him I wasn't ready. I could feel him rejoice, rubbing his sweaty palms together."
Isla let out a soft giggle. "How do you know the professor's palms were sweaty?"
"His bald head was glistening under the fluorescent lights. I assumed he was sweaty everywhere."
The picture made me snort and then cough. Everyone laughed, except for Ivy, who sulked, sipping her sugarless tea.
"But you have to eat, anyway," I said. "You don't want to fail the subject, and if you're hungry, you won't have enough energy to study."
