The afternoon had dragged, and every minute was filled with worry that she wasn’t okay. That the time she had left was coming to a close. Sitting up quickly, I tried to stave off the panic that image brought. But it was no use.
When the final bell sounded, signaling the end of the school day, I jumped from my seat and rushed to the hallway, darting to Poppy’s locker. When I arrived, Jorie was standing there.
“Where is she?” I asked curtly.
Jorie took a surprised step back and pointed to the back door. As I quickly made my way to the exit, Jorie shouted, “She didn’t look too good in class, Rune. I’m real worried.”
Shivers ran down my spine as I burst into the warm air. My eyes scanned the courtyard until I found Poppy standing at a tree in the park opposite. I pushed past my fellow students and ran over to her.
She didn’t notice me as she stared straight ahead, seemingly caught in a trance. There was a light sheen of sweat covering her face, and the skin on her arms and legs seemed pale.
I stood directly in her path. Poppy’s dull eyes were sluggish as they blinked and focused slowly on mine. She forced a smile. “Rune,” she whispered, weakly.
I pressed my hand against her forehead, my eyebrows pulled together in concern. “Poppy? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said unconvincingly, “I’m just tired.”
My heart slammed against my ribs as I took in her lie. Knowing I had to get her back to her parents, I gathered her under my arm. As the nape of her neck almost scalded my arm, I bit back a curse.
“Let’s go home, baby,” I said softly. Poppy wrapped her arms around my waist. Her hold was weak, but I could tell she was using my body to hold herself straight. I knew she would protest if I tried to carry her.
I closed my eyes for a second as we stepped onto the pathway of the park. I tried to quell the fear taking hold of me inside. The fear of her being sick. Of this being…
Poppy was silent, but for her breathing, which grew deeper and wheezier the further we walked. As we entered the blossom grove, Poppy’s steps faltered. I looked down, only to feel her body lose all its strength.
“Poppy!” I called out and caught her just before she hit the ground. Looking down at her in my arms, I stroked back the damp hair from her face. “Poppy? Poppy, baby, what’s wrong?”
Poppy’s eyes began to roll, losing focus, but I felt her hand take hold of mine and grip it as hard as she could manage. It was a barely a squeeze.
“Rune,” she tried to say, but her breathing became too fast; she struggled to retain enough air to push out her voice.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my cell and hit 911. As soon as the operator answered, I reeled off Poppy’s address and informed them of her illness.
Scooping Poppy into my arms, I was about to set into a run when Poppy’s weak palm landed on my face. I glanced down, only to see a tear roll down her cheek. “I’m … I’m … not ready…” she managed to tell me, before her head flopped back and she fought for consciousness.
Despite the tear ripping through my heart at Poppy’s broken spirit and failing body, I leapt into a sprint. Pushing myself harder and faster than ever before.
As I passed by my house, I saw my mamma and Alton in the driveway.
“Rune?” my mamma called, then whispered, “No!” when she saw Poppy hanging limply in my arms.
The sound of the ambulance’s siren blared in the distance. Wasting no time, I kicked through the front door of Poppy’s house.
I ran into the living room; no one was there. “Help!” I screamed as loudly as I could. Suddenly, I heard footsteps running in my direction.
“Poppy!” Poppy’s mama came barreling around the corner as I lowered Poppy to the couch. “Oh my God! Poppy!” Mrs. Litchfield crouched down beside me, pushing her hand over Poppy’s head.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. She just collapsed in my arms. I’ve called for an ambulance.”
Just as those words left my mouth, I heard the sound of the ambulance turning into the street. Poppy’s mama ran out of the house. I watched her go, ice replacing the blood in my veins. I ran my hands through my hair, not knowing what to do. A cold hand landed on my wrist.
I snapped my eyes back to Poppy, and saw her fighting for breath. My face fell at the sight. Dropping down closer, I kissed her hand and whispered, “You’ll be okay, Poppymin. I promise.”
Poppy gasped for breath, but managing to place her palm on my face, she said, almost inaudibly, “Not … going home … yet…”
I nodded my head and kissed her hand, gripping it tightly with my own.
Suddenly, the sound of the EMTs entering the house came from behind me and I stood up to let them past. But as I did, Poppy’s hand tightened on my own. Tears leaked from her eyes. “I’m right here, baby,” I whispered. “I won’t leave you.”
Poppy’s eyes showed me her thanks. The sound of crying came from behind me. As I turned, I saw Ida and Savannah standing to the side, watching, crying in each other’s arms. Mrs. Litchfield moved to the other side of the couch and kissed Poppy’s head. “You’ll be okay, baby,” she whispered, but as she looked up at me, I could see she didn’t believe her own words.
She thought the time had arrived too.
The EMTs put an oxygen mask over Poppy’s face and gathered her onto a gurney. Poppy’s hand still held mine; she refused to let go. As the EMTs moved her out of the house, she never loosened her grip on my hand, her eyes never leaving mine as she fought to keep them open.
Mrs. Litchfield ran behind, but when she saw Poppy’s hand clutching mine so tightly, she said, “You go with Poppy, Rune. I’ll follow straight behind with the girls.”
I could see the conflict on her face. She wanted to be with her daughter.
“I’ll bring them, Ivy, you go with Poppy and Rune,” I heard my mamma say from behind me. I climbed into the back of the ambulance; Mrs. Litchfield joined me.
Even when Poppy’s eyes closed en route to the hospital, she didn’t release my hand. And, as she collapsed into tears beside me, I gave my other hand to Mrs. Litchfield.
* * *
I stayed by Poppy’s side as she was wheeled into an oncology room. My heart beat as quickly as the doctors and nurses moved—a blur, a mass of activity.
I fought back the lump blocking my throat. I held the numbness inside me at bay. Poppy was being poked and prodded—blood taken, temperature taken, too many things to count. And my baby fought. As her chest became erratic with her inability to breathe properly, she stayed calm. As unconsciousness tried to pull her down, she forced her eyes to remain open … she forced her eyes to stay fixed on mine, mouthing my name whenever she almost slipped under.
I stayed strong for Poppy. I wouldn’t let her see me fall.
She needed me to be strong.
Mrs. Litchfield was beside me, holding my hand. Mr. Litchfield came running in, briefcase in hand, his tie in disarray.
“Ivy,” he said in a hurried voice, “what happened?”
Mrs. Litchfield chased her tears away from her cheeks and took her husband’s hand. “She collapsed on Rune, on the way home from school. The doctors believe it’s an infection. Her immune system is so low she can’t fight it.”
Mr. Litchfield looked to me, as Mrs. Litchfield added, “Rune carried Poppy in his arms all the way home. He ran and called for an ambulance. He saved her, James. Rune saved our girl.”