Extraordinary Means

“Her X-rays aren’t hopeful, Ms. Price,” Dr. Barons said, and it took me a moment to remember that Sadie’s parents were divorced. “The ribs are a problem, and every time she coughs, there’s a risk one of them will shift and puncture a lung.”

Sadie’s eyes filled with tears as the weight of what Dr. Barons had said sank in.

“Between the rib fractures and the damage from her tuberculosis, it isn’t looking good,” Dr. Barons finished.

“Is there anything we can do?” her mom asked.

“What she needs is protocillin,” Dr. Barons said gravely.

“But I thought that was three weeks away.”

“It is. And, unfortunately, she doesn’t have that kind of time. I’m so sorry, Ms. Price,” Dr. Barons said.

Sadie closed her eyes, blinking away tears. I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, wishing we’d never eavesdropped on that conversation. There are some things you shouldn’t overhear, some things that are too terrible to comprehend when other people are discussing them, even though they’re happening to you.

Sadie didn’t look so much overcome by sadness as defeated by it. And I don’t know how I managed to hold it together. How I sat there, stroking the back of her hand, breathing raggedly but not crying, because I wasn’t going to do that in front of her.

“Lane,” she said after a while.

“Hmmm?”

“I’m so sorry. I always felt like there was something off about me, and now I know. I’m broken.”

It wrecked me all over again to hear her say that.

“You’re not broken.”

“Then how come I can’t be fixed?” she asked, shaking as she held back tears. “If I’m not broken, how come no one can fix me?”

WHEN SADIE’S MOM came back in, you could tell she’d been crying. Dr. Barons trailed behind her, looking grim.

Sadie squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back. And then I held her hand, like they’d told us to at camp during off-grounds trips, as though it would prevent us from being separated.

“Sadie, good to see you’re awake,” Dr. Barons said.

“I heard you,” she told him. “Out in the hallway.”

Dr. Barons blanched. Sadie’s mom looked horrified.

“I’m happy to answer any questions you might have,” Dr. Barons said, trying to put on a smile.

“I just have one,” Sadie said. “Can you give me the medication for multi-drug-resistant TB?”

I hadn’t been expecting that at all. But the moment she said it, a small flicker of hope lit itself inside of me as I remembered back to that day in French class, and our dialogue about the medication that Mr. Fi

Sadie’s mom looked to Dr. Barons, who sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“That’s a last resort, and not one we usually consider. The risks are too high,” he said.

“But it could work,” I pressed. “It could make her better.”

Sadie’s mom and I stared at Dr. Barons, and he shook his head.

“It really is an extraordinary means of treatment. The survival rate is too low, and the chance that it would work is too slim.”

“But it might!” I insisted. “Please!”

“Mr. Rosen,” Dr. Barons scolded. “You seem extremely agitated. Do you need to be given a hospital bed and a sedative again?”

I folded my arms and glared.

“I don’t care,” Sadie said. “It’s my choice, isn’t it?”

Sadie looked to her mom, who nodded, her lips pressed together.

“Of course, sweetie.”

“Well, I want the medication,” Sadie said matter-of-factly. “I know the risks. Twenty-five percent chance it’ll work, twenty-five percent chance it’ll kill me. And if it doesn’t do anything, then we already know what to expect. Mom, don’t, please . . .”

Sadie’s mom had started sniffling again, and she pressed her hands over her mask, as though to hold back her despair.

Dr. Barons handed Sadie’s mom another tissue. He kept a packet of them in the pocket of his white coat, I noticed, and I wondered if he always carried tissues, or if he’d put the packet in special, before breaking the news.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day to come to a decision, and I’ll check back tomorrow?” he said.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Sadie said, coughing softly. She splinted her ribs with a pillow one of the nurses had given her, going so white I thought she might faint.

Dr. Barons gave Sadie’s mom a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and then paused in the doorway.

“Young man, shouldn’t you be getting back?” he asked me.

“To what?” I asked.

But I could feel Sadie’s mom wanting me to leave, since the nurse who’d taken Erica to get di

“I think for the rest of the night, it needs to be just family,” she said.

“Yeah, okay,” I conceded.

I pulled off my surgical mask and bent down to give Sadie a kiss on the cheek. I rested there a minute, my temple pressed against hers, feeling the shallow rise and fall of her chest, and the warmth of her skin, and the reassurance that she was there, and alive, and that it was possible we’d get past this.

“I’m going to be okay,” Sadie promised as I left.

“I know you are,” I said, except they were just empty hospital words, the kind that you wish were true because the alternative is too painful to bear.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SADIE

THE MEDICATION WAS going to work. I was sure of it. Of course my mom was skeptical and kept telling me about some miracle herb she wanted me to try. I told her it sounded great, just so she’d stop talking about it, because she was making me depressed.

When Dr. Barons came back the next day, I told him my mind hadn’t changed. I still wanted the treatment. He seemed surprised, and not altogether pleased, that I wanted to take the risk. But for me it wasn’t a choice. It was the only chance I had, and one of the things I’d learned at Latham was that you don’t pass on second chances.

And a secret part of me liked the idea that my fate would still be uncertain. That I was back to where I’d been for the past eighteen months, unsure whether Latham was it for me, or if I’d go back to my former life after all. Except now I knew—if I did get better, if I did get to pack my things and take my protocillin and go back to high school, I’d call Lane every night before bed, and somehow, together, we’d get through it. Maybe we’d even get bagels on the weekend, or drive up to see one of Marina’s plays, or check out just how ridiculous Nick’s house was, since he’d let it slip there was a te

DR. BARONS LET my friends come visit that afternoon, and they showed up dressed like that night at the movies, when everyone else had worn pajamas, and we’d looked like we were stopping by on our way to a dance.

Nick smelled like he’d swigged a little too much liquid courage, and from the look on Lane’s face, they’d had a conversation about it earlier.

“Wow, booze o’clock,” Marina told him. “Have a piece of gum.”

She tossed him a package of gum, and he took a piece, muttering his thanks.

Marina smoothed her dress nervously. Out of everyone, she was the most uncomfortable in the medical building. She was still perched on the edge of her seat, like she might need to run away at any moment.

“Loving the outfits,” I said. “Whose funeral?”

They all stared at me in horror.

“I’m kidding,” I said, leaning back and closing my eyes for just a moment. I got tired so easily now, and the pain meds made me feel like I wasn’t all the way awake.

Lane adjusted his tie self-consciously. He looked gorgeous, his hair a little too long, and just the right amount of messy. I remembered the last time he’d worn that tie, for our fake-dance photo.