Page 62 of The Forever Gift

Aiden looks away and I can hear him puffing out deep breaths.

‘Jesus, dude. You’re failing miserably at this reassuring me thing,’ I say, teasing. I’m trying hard to make this easier – for both of us.

‘Wanna go to the games room?’ Aiden says, without turning back.

I don’t. I have no energy. ‘Sure,’ I say. ‘It’s just down the corridor.’

Aiden turns slowly back at last and I can see the tears in the big eejit’s eyes. ‘Do you need help… you know… getting out of bed or anything?’

‘Noooo,’ I lie. ‘I’m fine.’

Aiden stands up and opens the door way before I’m ready. He stares at me as my good leg shakes when I throw it over the edge of the bed. I wriggle my hip, certain I’m pulling a weird concentration face as I guide my bad leg to follow. I shuffle into giant Winnie-the-Pooh-head slippers and I’m so light-headed standing up, I’m pretty sure I’m going to topple over. I can hear Doctor Patterson’s voice play over in my head, ‘Listen to your body, Kayla. It will tell you when you’re ready to be up and moving.’

‘Ready? Aiden asks, his relief to leave my room written all over his face.

‘Ready, ready, ready,’ I say, using up so much energy getting from the bed to the door.

TWENTY-SIX

KAYLA

It takes us two hundred years to reach the games room. I had to keep stopping every couple of steps to draw deep breaths like I’ve been smoking like a trooper since the day I was born. Aiden rubbed my back sometimes. It was a bit weird and it didn’t help, but I didn’t want to offend him and ask him to stop when he was trying so hard.

Aiden’s reaction when we reached the games room was also weird.

‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘This place is great.’

It’s not great. I mean, really, really not great. But, to be fair, compared to my boring-as-hell room, it’s a lot better.

There’s a pool table in the centre of the room, a couple of cues hung up on the wall behind it, and blue chalk that’s worn down to a stub on the side. There’s also a play kitchen and book shelf overflowing with fairy tales for little kids. Also, there’s a not-too-shabby huge TV on the wall. It’s mostly taken over byPeppa PigorPaw Patrol, but in the evenings when the little kids are asleep, a few of us get together to watchFriends.

‘Game of pool?’ Aiden says, bouncing into the room with a nervous energy.

I groan inwardly. My hand is fanning the wall just outside the door, weirdly over Aladdin’s crotch and I know if Aiden looks over I’ll never hear the end of it, but it’s way too much effort to move.

‘Kay, c’mon. You love pool, don’tcha.’

I don’t know where he’s got that from. Because sick or not, I hate pool.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say, wondering why the hell I didn’t think to bring my crutch. It was right beside my bed. And it’s just one, so it’s not really obvious that I’d be leaning on it so much.

Aiden grabs a cue off the wall and chalks it up like he’s some sort of pool champion who knows what he’s doing.

‘Kay, c’mon. You have to chalk it.’

‘Do you?’ I pull a face, wondering why you would.

‘Of course,’ Aiden says, as if that’s a reasonable answer and I try not to smirk knowing he has no clue either.

I peel myself off the wall and shuffle into the room as if I’m one hundred on my next birthday.

‘Game of eight,’ someone says, like a whisper scratching against your window when you can’t sleep.

‘Who’s there?’ I say, craning my neck to search the seemingly empty room.

The beanbag in front of the telly rustles and the boy who seems to always be morphed into it finally stands up. I’ve seen him before. He’s stuck to the beanbag in the evenings before I come down forFriendsand he’s always still there when I leave. I’m shook to see him standing up. I kind of assumed he had something wrong with his legs, but he stands up no bother and it irrationally irritates me.Why is he even here?

‘Who’s first?’ he says, looking at me.

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