Page 105 of The Forever Gift

‘Take one of us. Take one of us,’ Molly says, leaning close to me and pointing at my screen. ‘Send Kayla our picture.’

I drape my arm over Molly’s shoulder, and she snuggles close to me.

‘Say cheese,’ I say.

‘Cheeessseee.’

I snap and – content that my phone has autocorrected my red puffy eyes – I send the picture to Kayla, with the caption:See you soon. Can’t wait.

I’ve a tonne of texts on my phone. Mostly from the teachers at Kayla’s school wishing both Kayla and me luck today as if we’re running a marathon or moving into a new home. Not simply attending Sports Day the same, unnoticed way we do every year. Usually I turn up at the last moment after dashing out of work early, while knowing I’ll have to work twice as many minutes in overtime to get my boss off my back. Last year I arrived at the school twenty minutes before the end of the day for the parents’ and kids’ three-legged race, which Kayla and I lost in spectacular style and spent the next week or two teasing each other about.

This year is nothing like last year. And, even worse, I fear it may be nothing like next year.

FORTY-SEVEN

KAYLA

‘C’mon, Kayla! Hurry, Kayla, hurry,’ people chant.

I try. I’m moving faster than I have in months and it’s fabulous. I don’t know who the voices belong to. It doesn’t even matter; their cheering spurs me on.

‘You can do it, Kayla,’ they say.

My arms burn as I turn the wheels on my wheelchair as fast as I can. The wind whips against my face and I take deep breaths, loving how amazing it feels to be outside, even in the cold. I wonder why I never appreciated fresh air before. I should have.

The grass is bumpy beneath the wheels and the faster I go the more my bum bounces about in the chair. I should probably worry about toppling over or bouncing right out but I don’t. Not even once.

‘Go. Go. Go.’ The chanting is deafeningly wonderful as the finish line comes into view.

I finish last, unsurprisingly, but it doesn’t matter because I’m swarmed by a cheering crowd. Close friends, not-as-close friends and yet-to-be friends. But over their shoulder, a little further down the field, are my once-upon-a-time friends. People I sat beside in class. I confided in these kids when I was having a rubbish day. I was on a debate teamwith them. Some of them are my fellow basketball teammates. They stay well away, as if I’m contagious. They’re not stupid, they know I can’t infect them with cancer, but getting too close could infectthemwith uncoolness and that’s the worst disease of all, right?

‘That was awesome,’ Aiden says, wrapping his arms loosely around my neck in the way he’s learned to do so he doesn’t hurt me.

‘What?’ I scrunch my nose. ‘I lost, you numpty.’

‘Yeah, but you also rolled over Roisin Kelly’s foot.’ Aiden is laughing so hard he snorts.

‘No way.’ I smirk. ‘Did I really?’

‘You should have seen her face,’ Aiden giggles. ‘Best race ever, if you ask me.’

‘Well done, Kay,’ Dad says.

‘You’re very slow,’ Molly adds, unimpressed. ‘All the other people passed you.’

Aiden laughs louder than ever. I laugh too.

‘Yeah.’ I nod. ‘I am.’

‘Can I have a go?’ Molly asks and points towards me.

‘In my chair?’ I say.

Molly nods. ‘I bet I can go faster.’

‘I bet you could too,’ I say. ‘But I’m a little too tired to stand up right now. But you can sit on my lap and we can go for a spin. How about that?’

‘Cooolll,’ Molly says.

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