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But Claire didn’t argue. In fact, she let out a small whimper.

“I don’t know if you girls think we’re made of money, ” Mom went on.

I ignored the fact that Mom made it sound like I wanted to go to Ohio too, and took a step toward Claire. “Are you. . . okay? ”

Her hair fell in her face. She shook her head and clutched her stomach.

“I think she’s hurt, ” I told Mom. “She’s really sick. ”

Claire tried to stand up, but doubled over again. She took a shaky step toward the stairs and reached for the handrail to steady herself.

Mom stared, not doing or saying a thing, so finally I said, “Mom, I think you need to get Claire to the hospital. ”

Mom nodded, and without hesitation Marcus took one of Claire’s arms and I took the other. Mom’s whole body shook as she locked the front door behind us. After Marcus bent to help Claire into the backseat, Mom reached for his arm. I stared down at her hand, praying she wasn’t going to do this now.

But then she said, “Thank you. ”

Marcus nodded, and an understanding seemed to pass between them.

I backed away, then moved around to the other side of the car and took my place beside Claire.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Dad met us at the administration desk of the hospital.

After Claire was brought into the ER, refusing to let my parents go with her, we all sat in the waiting room in stunned silence. At least for the first minute.

Mom had started going to counseling sessions in an attempt to understand Claire, and she chose then to try to convince Dad that it was his responsibility to go with her, like this was obviously the cog in her system of raising healthy kids. Which, of course, segued into another brawl over money. Right in the middle of the hospital waiting room.

“She could die, Darren. ” Mom spit his name like it was a cuss, then lowered her voice. “The clinic already told us her liver’s congested and her stomach’s a mess. What if her heart gives out? ”

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it, Beth. You want me at home. You want me at the counselor’s. I’m working all the hours I can to hold this family together. ”

Marcus looked out the window, trying to avoid the whole thing. I felt bad for bringing him here. Putting him in the middle of all this. But I needed him more now than ever.

“Well, it’s not working, ” Mom gritted out.

“These clinics don’t come cheap, Beth. You’re going to have to deal with Claire. ”

“Oh, okay. I’ll deal with Claire. ” She shook her head. “Why should I be surprised? Let’s leave this all on Beth’s lap again. ”

Thankfully there were only two other people in the waiting room with us, but they looked as uncomfortable as Marcus. My parents continued to seethe blame messages back and forth until the doctor finally came and took them aside.

“Are you okay? ” Marcus asked.

I nodded, even though I felt anything but okay. “I’m sorry you had to come here. ”

“I’m not. ” He laced his fingers through mine and squeezed my hand reassuringly. “There’s no place I’d rather be. ” I attempted a smile, but I just felt like I had nothing left in me.

* * *

The hospital wanted to keep Claire for a few days to monitor her. We all went to visit her the next evening, but she just lay there, arms crossed, not looking at any of us. It was as if she thought it was our fault she’d ended up in the hospital.

The nurses kept her on an IV, so at least something was going into her that she couldn’t throw up. The doctor took my parents aside, which left me uncomfortably alone with silent Claire. I stared at her for a long time, hardly believing how scraggly her hair looked. It was the first time in my life that I would have actually said I preferred my hair over hers.

“We didn’t do this to you, you know, ” I finally murmured, annoyed by the silence.

She huffed but didn’t reply.

“Do you think if Mom had said yes to Ohio, your stomach would have been fine? Is that really what you think? ”

When she didn’t answer, I stood to leave. I hated her for what she was doing to herself. To all of us.

On the car ride home, I lay my face against the back window and tried to tune out my parents’ arguing, but it was useless.

“The doctor suggested the same clinic in San Diego, but we could find a different place, ” Mom said in a pleading tone.

“They’re not going to release her until we have her registered somewhere. Do you have time to look into hundreds of places around the country? ”

“I’ll make time, ” Mom practically growled. She reminded me of a mama bear protecting her cubs on one of those nature shows.

* * *

The next night I kept my shift at the Arts Club. There seemed to be no reason to go to the hospital if Claire wouldn’t speak to any of us. Apparently Claire did talk with my parents that night. To tell them she refused to go to another clinic. My parents were still arguing about it when I got home.

“We can’t afford to keep her in the hospital indefinitely, ” Dad practically shouted.

Mom marched for the computer room, ranting something unintelligible, but I was sure she’d be researching other clinics through the night.

* * *

No official decisions about clinics had been made by the time Claire came back home, but as I understood through my parents’ constant bickering, they had assured the doctor they’d get her checked in somewhere for help.

My mouth dropped open when Claire walked through our front door. She’d chopped her hair short, and looked like a boy. Besides that, her skin looked saggy and yellow and her gut stuck out above her sweatpants like she was pregnant. I wondered if this was from her stomach problems or from the hospital trying to get her weight up quickly.

She didn’t even look in my direction.

“We’ll figure out somewhere you’ll like, ” Mom said to her from behind. “We’ll figure it out together. ”

“Forget it. I’m not going to one of those places again, ” she said in a monotone from halfway up the stairs.

Dad stood in the foyer with his jaw tightening, watching Claire retreat. Without even saying a word, he stepped back outside the door and slammed it behind him. Mom’s whole body reverberated from the slam.

* * *

Dad didn’t come home for the next two days. He’d never, in my whole life, done that, and it freaked me out. Mom took her frustrations out on anyone in her path. I had my usual excuse of having to work, but now I saw it as that—an excuse. An escape from the tension. Just like Dad. And that only made me feel like more of a failure.

When I did come home, I could tell immediately that Claire had been Mom’s only target, and if Mom couldn’t fix her with love, she’d fix her somehow.

“You will eat what I made you! ” Mom shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m not eating another chicken breast, Mother, ” came Claire’s reply from the computer room.

“Claire, you get down here this minute! ”

“I’ll eat when I want to eat. What are you going to do, shove it down my throat? ” Claire’s door slammed.

I thought for certain that the whole hospital incident would have been a dose of reality for Claire, but it was like she was driven now to not get better. She puked in our bathroom with my door ajar. She wasn’t even bothering to try to hide it.

“Stop it! ” I yelled toward the bathroom in a voice so loud it made my throat raw. “Just stop it! ”

Seconds later the toilet flushed and she went into her room. I lay in bed shaking, crying, hating that I couldn’t go talk to her. Because all she would say was, “What are you talking about, Loey? ” and I was sure I’d feel like killing her myself.

* * *

On Friday when I got home, there was a tray of untouched food outside Claire’s bedroom door. The door was open and I could hear Mom inside, pleading with Claire.

“Honey, I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do. I’ll cook you anything you want. I’ll drive you to any clinic in the country. ”

Claire didn’t respond. At least nothing I heard.

“I’m going to go squeeze you some fresh orange juice. That’ll be good for you. ” The way Mom said it, it sounded like she had finally found the solution. Orange juice would solve everything.

When she glanced over at me as she left Claire’s room, though, I realized Mom’s assurance was an act. She didn’t look like my confident mother. She looked like a scared little girl. It was the first time I’d ever really seen her as a person who hurt and tried and failed. She was trying—she had always been trying—but her best wasn’t good enough anymore.

Dad got home just as I headed to bed that night. The truth was, I didn’t trust him anymore either. If he could so easily walk out the door once, would he do it again?

Without even saying good night, I headed up the stairs.

“Loann, ” Dad said, and he sounded exasperated, even though it had been the first time he’d spoken to me in days. I stood in place waiting for more, but I couldn’t turn to face him.

“Loann, honey. I was talking to Bill at the office today, and his daughter went to Kettleton College. Great school, ” Dad said, his tone suddenly much softer. “So is that still the plan? Because I’ll need to figure out the due date for the deposit and see if we can swing it. ”

I’d inched my way to the top of the stairs. “Uh, I’ll let you know soon. ” But what I wondered was this: How did he suddenly have money for college, but not to go to counseling or to send Claire for help? At the same time, it didn’t seem like Claire wanted the money, or the help, and I did want to go to college.

“What about Claire? ” I asked from the staircase, a hurricane of indecision brewing in my chest. “Don’t you need the money to send her to another clinic? ” My voice was lifeless, like I wasn’t really trying to convince anyone.

“She says she won’t go, ” Mom said, now at the bottom of the stairs too. “And your dad says we haven’t got the money, and I just don’t know what to do anymore. ” Mom’s voice broke on every second word.

“I’m not just saying we don’t have the money, Beth. And what did the last clinic do for her? ”

This arguing wasn’t going anywhere. Claire could wither away to nothing in her bedroom before my parents came to an agreement on anything.

I stormed down the stairs. “I don’t want your money for college! ” I yelled before I reached the landing. “Use the money for Claire. She needs it and I don’t. There have to be better clinics, and I’ll make the money to go to college. I’ll get a scholarship. I’ll take care of it. ”

Mom and Dad both stared at me, open-mouthed.

“I mean it, ” I said.

Dad tilted his head and pulled on his tie. “Well, that’s really sweet of you, Loann, but your mother says that Claire won’t go anyway. She’s eighteen. She has to make this decision. ” Even though Dad’s words sounded soft and caring, they made my blood boil. At him, not at Claire. Why should Claire think she’s worth anything if her own father didn’t think so?

“Please, ” I said. “Why didn’t you let the doctor make her go? ” I couldn’t believe my desperation to get my sister out of the house. She was wrecking us—all of us.

I knew his next statement would be about student loans and why it’s not that easy to give my college money to Claire. I didn’t care if it was true. It wasn’t a good enough reason. I left Mom and Dad standing at the base of the stairs and marched back up to my bedroom. Maybe, maybe, left to their own resources, they’d think of some way they could make an effort here.

But thirty seconds later, I heard the front door slam.

Dad was gone. And I wondered if this time it would be for good.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

In art class the next day, I stared down at the composite I’d been working on. I wanted to rip it up, throw it against the wall.

I had centered all the pictures around my one-word ornate title in the middle. But I could barely look at the pictures of Claire. This girl, this beautiful sister of mine, she didn’t seem real to me anymore.

And I couldn’t base my entire grade—my entire possibility of a scholarship—on some fabrication.

I sat in the darkroom with my head in my hands, staring down at my useless work. Moving a few pictures aside, I tried to replace them with some of Mom, one of Marcus’s Camaro, but the whole thing was garbage.

I left it in the art room, since it was too big to cart around. But I needed to come up with a new idea, and fast. Something I could complete quickly so I didn’t miss getting graded on it, and hopefully I would still have time to submit it for a scholarship.

* * *

Leaving the school that afternoon, I saw a familiar car across the parking lot, standing out from all the newer cars surrounding it.

It honked.

I bit my lip, reining in my emotion. Marcus seemed to have impeccable timing for knowing when I needed him most.

As I walked toward his car, I could see he was wearing what I suspected was his favorite yellow shirt, since I’d seen him wear it at least once a week since his dad had been gone. “Hi, sunshine, ” I said. “So you got it running, huh? ”

He motioned his head to the passenger side. “Get in. ”

It was still covered in rust patches, but the engine idled smoothly. I moved around to the other side. The door stuck a little, and I had to give it a good pull to get it open.

“I’ve still got a few kinks to work out. ” He motioned to the sticky door.

“But it runs! ” I said again, my enthusiasm bubbling over.

Marcus smiled at me.

“Wait, you don’t have your license. ” I quickly scanned the parking lot, as though there might be cops lining the place.

“Yup. I got it last week. ”

My heart sank that I hadn’t been around to celebrate with Marcus. I had my learner’s permit, but I didn’t have any money for lessons. “Wow, things change, I guess, huh? ”

“Yeah. ” He nodded. “And some things don’t. ” He reached over and put his hand on top of mine.

My heart skipped a beat. I had so much to tell him, but at the moment all I wanted to do was sink into him. It felt like forever since I’d been able to breathe this easily.

“I’m glad you’re here, ” I said.

“Me too. ”

We sat like that, his hand on mine, looking at each other, for a long time. I wondered if he remembered he still had three wishes. I wondered if he still wanted to kiss me, or if we’d just been through too much together now and he didn’t think of me that way. There was such a thing as being too close of friends, right?

Marcus pulled his hand away and grasped the steering wheel at ten and two.

I sighed inwardly. But at least we were driving off together.

On our way off the school grounds, several students pointed at Marcus’s car in appreciation, and Marcus’s eyes lit up. I could tell it meant a lot to him. At the first intersection, he turned away from my house, and the Arts Club. Then we missed the turn we’d have taken to his apartment.

“So where are we going? ”

“For a drive. Armando gave us the afternoon off. ” Marcus took one hand off the wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror. “I want to show you what this thing can do. ”

I laughed. I’m sure he knew whatever his eight-banger engine had in it, I was the last person who would be impressed, but for some reason I was excited right along with him.

When we got onto the north highway, a road that could barely be called a highway because it was almost always deserted, Marcus slowed the car down until it was almost stopped. Then, after glancing around to make certain there were no other cars around, he dropped his foot to the metal.

I grasped for the armrest beside me. We must have sped up to at least eighty miles per hour, though I couldn’t take my eyes off the road to check. I sat rigidly, fear-struck in my seat. He didn’t keep it up for more than thirty seconds, then took his foot off the gas and coasted down to a normal speed.

“Could you not do that again? ”

“Come on, Loey, you’re not the tough chick I thought you were. ”

“Maybe I’ll start wearing a skirt, ” I said with annoyance.

He snickered, pulling to the side of the road and slowly bringing the car to a stop. “Actually, I didn’t bring you out here to put your heart in your throat. ”

I gritted my teeth. “Why, then? ”

“You ever heard of a Chinese Fire Drill? ”

“Yeah, ” I said, tentatively.

He gave the horn two quick honks. “Ready, set, go! ” he said, louder than I’d ever heard him. The sheer volume of his voice shocked me into obedience. Marcus opened his door and hopped out. I did the same and he raced around the back of the car, while I took the front. We slid into opposite seats and slammed our doors.

“One problem, ” I said. “I don’t know how to drive. ”

“My point exactly. ” He dangled the keys in my face.

Marcus took the next hour to show me not only how to drive, but how to drive a standard. At first I spent more time laughing than driving. Or trying to control my heart rate when he put his hand over mine to help me shift gears.

“My mom would kill me if she knew I was driving with another teenager. ” I started the stalled vehicle and practiced shifting again, trying to coordinate the clutch with the gears. It was all very entertaining. Or at least it must have been for Marcus.

“You’re pretty good, for a beginner, ” he said.

“Right. You being the professional, having had your license for what? A whole week? ” The car stalled and I cranked the engine again. I looked down the road both ways, but it was still empty.

“You should’ve seen me my first time, ” he said. “I didn’t have the help of an expert instructor or anything. ” He glanced my way with a smirk and stroked the dash. “I’m surprised my poor baby here didn’t choke to death. ”

I never did understand guys who treated their cars like real people. When I tried again, I had a better handle on it. I got my bearings, and soon we were sailing down the straight highway at nearly twenty miles per hour.

“You know, you can go faster if you want. ”

I’m sure he didn’t mean to sound patronizing. “Yeah, I know that, ” I said, and stepped on the gas. It jutted us forward and the engine revved noticeably louder.

“Third, ” he said, cringing.

I backed my foot off of the gas.

“Don’t go slower, just put it in third. ”

I didn’t want to look away from the road to find out where third was. I backed my foot off the gas pedal again.

“Well, I guess you’ll have no problem driving around Alder Grove, ” he said. “But I’m thinking road trips to Chicago are out for you. It’d take you two weeks just to get there. ”

I hit the brakes. Hard. Marcus jolted against his seat belt, and now it was my turn to laugh. I, however, was in no mood for laughing. “Just cut me some slack, Mr. Mario Andretti. I’m doing the best that I can here. ”

“No, you’re not. ” Marcus raised his eyebrows and leaned back into his seat, not even giving me the courtesy of looking my way. “You’re just scared. You’ve got to relax and learn that the car isn’t going to freak out if you have to look down at the gearshift for a second. ”

Sometimes it pissed me off that he knew me so well. I put the gearshift back in first and started to edge away from the shoulder. But this time I kept my eyes on Marcus as I did it.

Marcus laughed and said, “Yeah, okay, Loey. ” Then, as I sped up, his laugh wavered. I kept my eyes on him, very happy about how I had turned this situation around.

“Faster? ” I asked. I don’t know what had come over me. Maybe it was the way Claire was so reckless with her life and I was tired of being the safe, sensible one. I gripped the wheel harder. I couldn’t sit back and be Claire’s audience anymore.

“Come on, Loann. Watch the road. ”

I pressed the gas pedal farther down, feeling a rush of. . . something. Exhilaration? No, it was more than that. Panic, fear, release—all of it. Marcus kept watching the road and glancing back at me every three seconds. I hit the gravel shoulder and overcompensated back onto the far side of the road.

“Okay, that’s it. Pull over! ”

“Oh, I’d better put it in third, ” I said, and made a big deal of looking down at the gear shift. “Is this one third? ” I asked. My voice came out angry.

Marcus reached over and grabbed the steering wheel. “You know it is, Loann, now just watch the road. ”

Something snapped me back and I turned my eyes straight ahead. Even though I was still pretty close to where I should be on the road, I felt bad. It wasn’t Marcus I was mad at. By the time I slowed down, my breathing had returned to normal.

“Sorry, ” I said once we were stopped. I turned off the engine and handed Marcus’s keys back to him. “I. . . needed that. ”

“For what? I should be thanking you for making me reevaluate my mortality. ”

I didn’t have the words to explain it. Marcus reached over and touched my arm and I sensed he understood, at least a little.

On our way back to civilization, Marcus took the driver’s seat again. “I’ll have to sell it soon, but I’ll give you lessons first, until you get your license. ”

I didn’t put up a fight. I was happy Marcus was finding time for me. And when we got back to town, he didn’t have to rush off for work, so we went straight for the Arts Club. I wasn’t sure what had changed, but at the moment, I didn’t much care.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

That evening, I skipped most of the way home, feeling like a little kid again. Mom was out at a counseling session and dinner was on the stove. Dad had still not come home, which brought me back to my sober thinking. It would be my fault if he didn’t come home at all. As if there wasn’t enough stress flying around the house without me arguing with him about my college money.

Well, Claire’s fault, really. Her fault and my fault.

After knocking back a bowl of Hungarian goulash, I trekked up the stairs in search of Claire. I felt so much stronger after hanging out with Marcus and didn’t have any fear of Claire bringing me down. In fact, maybe my positive energy would be contagious.

I knocked on her door and didn’t hear anything at first. A picture flashed in my head of her passed out by the toilet. I knocked again, louder, and called her name. A faint “Come in, ” came from the other side.

I cracked open the door and peered through. Claire was in bed, the covers up around her throat, and even from across the room, I could tell she was shivering.

“Are you okay? ” I walked closer.

“Yeah, ” she said, as if convulsions were a normal part of life.

“You’re shaking. Are you cold? ” I grabbed the blanket from the foot of her bed. Her skin had a greenish hue and she looked worse than the normal frailty and paleness that not-eating brought on. Was this from the problems with her liver?

“No, ” she whispered. “Just thirsty. ” The water bottle beside her bed was empty.

I took it to the bathroom to refill it.

She whispered from behind me, “No, Loey, could you go get the filtered? ”

I dumped the water in the bathroom sink and headed down the stairs, muttering to myself the whole way. “She’ll abuse her body, puke I don’t know how many times a day, but water. . . has to be filtered! ” That was when I knew she had lost it.

I brought the water back upstairs, trying to recapture my positive attitude. Claire had stopped shaking and had pulled the blankets down. Sweat covered her forehead and seeped into her cropped hair. The long-sleeve white T-shirt she wore was the same one I’d seen on her yesterday. She looked like she’d fallen back asleep, but when I stood at her bedside, her eyes opened slightly.

“Have you been up today? ” I asked.

“Oh, Loey, I’m just so tired. ”

“I should call Dr. Quinton. ” I stepped toward the door.

“I’m okay. ” She forced a bit more volume “Hey, Loey? ”

She was trying to change the subject again. I took a deep breath and sighed it out. “Yeah? ”

“Will you take my picture? ”

I thought she was kidding, but I didn’t laugh. There was nothing funny about it. Her hair was matted and frizzy. Her face was gaunt and pale without makeup. But looking in her eyes, somehow I knew she was serious.

The old Claire was back. At least for the moment.

“For real? ” I asked, probably sounding callous, but I couldn’t help myself. I was still me.

“You know, ” she said, and I wondered if she was changing the subject again, “the only time I think I’ve ever felt worthwhile was when you were taking my picture. ” She let out a little sad-sounding laugh.

I couldn’t stop hearing her words over and over again in my mind. “I’ll be right back, ” I said finally, my voice rising at the end.

“Take her picture. Picture, picture, picture, ” I murmured, trying to keep my mind busy as I went to get my camera. “Photo, film. Tripod. Let’s take some pictures. ”

Back beside her bed, I asked Claire, “Do you. . . Do you just want me to take it here? ”

She lay still, her eyelet bedspread pulled back to her shoulders again.

“You tell me, ” she said quietly. “You’re the photographer. ”

“Can you get up? ” I felt like I had to ask, since she looked so weak.

Claire pulled the blanket back and I looked away from her legs, only partially covered by shorts. They looked like those bone charts in the science classroom.

She placed her spindly legs over the edge of the bed and tried to push herself up to a seated position. I swallowed, not believing what had happened to my sister in mere days. I put my tripod on the floor so I could help her.

“Sitting’s good, ” I said, once she was upright. I set up my tripod and camera, desperately running words through my head. Picture, picture, picture. Anything to avoid the moment.

Claire smiled meekly, one of her hands brushing her hair behind her ear.

Picture, picture, picture. Just take the stupid picture. “Okay, ” I said, but my voice seemed to have no volume. “Why don’t you look over at the window? ”

She did as I directed.

“Tilt a little to the left, ” I said. “Not so much. There. Perfect. Stay there. ” I made sure the film had forwarded, then brought my eye to the viewfinder.

My breath caught. Through the camera I saw something other than my withering and frail sister. Claire’s eyes lit up and seemed to take over the whole frame. She was every bit as beautiful as I’d ever known her to be. I didn’t pull away to see the lifeless frame of a girl who was sitting on the bed. I was mesmerized.

“Don’t move, ” I whispered, “That’s it. ” I snapped a picture. “That’s it, Claire. Don’t move a muscle. ” I snapped two more. “Okay, now, head a little to the right. Uh-huh. ” I snapped again. “Beautiful, Claire, just beautiful. ” My voice trilled louder. “Okay, now bring your hand up to your hair. ” She did, and I snapped three more. Tears started spilling down my face. I couldn’t stop them. Didn’t want to. “Now straight at the camera, Claire. That’s it, that’s perfect. Wow, stunning. ” Her smile became bigger and my tears fiercer. I kept my face pressed to the camera.

I snapped a whole roll of pictures, knowing with the last one, it would be the end of our photo shoot. I wouldn’t go back to my room and get another roll of film. This reprieve, with one more click, would be over.

After the last snap, I stared through the viewfinder for a long time. I don’t know how long, but eventually Claire asked, “Are we done? ”

“Yeah, I think so. ” I nodded against the camera. “That’s the end of the film. ”

Claire lay back down and I quickly swiped the tears from my eyes. I packed my camera into its case.

“Thank you, Loey. ” Claire’s voice was louder, stronger than it had been all evening.