Katy Read online

  I opened my eyes and peered through my fingers.

  ‘Dexter?’ I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.

  ‘Yep. God, you’re in a right state. Snot all over your face. Here.’ He wheeled himself deftly round my bed and pulled a handful of tissues from the box on my locker. ‘There now,’ he said, dabbing at me.

  I was mortified and tried to hide my face, but he slapped my hands away.

  ‘Come on, baby, you need to be cleaned up. So. Why have you got the moody blues today? Did you get dumped?’

  I was immensely flattered that he thought I might have a boyfriend, but I shook my head.

  ‘So what’s new? Or is it just same-old, same-old?’

  I shrugged, not answering.

  ‘Hey, it’s not because I said that stuff to you yesterday, is it? You know, about hooking up? Because it’s probably different for a girl. And anyway, maybe you’ll be a Little Miss Miracle and start walking again.’

  ‘I walked in my dream,’ I said. ‘I ran. I thought it was real.’

  ‘Oh. I’ve had one of those dreams. Several. Yeah, it’s the pits when you wake up,’ said Dexter. ‘Maybe there’s a particularly malevolent Sandman who sprinkles walking dreams into kids stuck in wheelchairs, just to torture them.’

  ‘You could draw him,’ I said.

  ‘OK. I’ll whizz back and get my sketchbook.’

  ‘And you’ll come back here so I can see?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Dexter, and he was as good as his word.

  He drew for me all the way through till lunchtime. He even drew for the other girls too, though their pictures weren’t stylish black comic strips, they were just ordinary pictures: a portrait of Naveen to give to her parents; a teddy bear’s picnic for Rosemary; and a doll’s tea party for Marnie.

  ‘My goodness, Dexter, what’s come over you?’ the nurses cried, thrilled. Even Jeannie looked halfway pleased, though she smoothed her uniform over her big bottom defensively.

  ‘Maybe I’ve got a fever? Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll be as sullen and uncooperative and abusive tomorrow,’ said Dexter.

  He was in a blackish mood the next day, and the one after that, but I didn’t mind too much. I visited him and just chatted quietly to him. I even went to see him during visiting hours one day when Dad was late coming to see me. I’d expected to find him on his own, still missing the horrible girlfriend who had dumped him, but his mum was there, and even his granny. They were making a big fuss of him, showing him the new T-shirts and paperbacks and wash bag they’d bought him, acting like it was Christmas. His granny seemed to be treating him like a little boy, ruffling his long hair, even tweaking his nose affectionately at one time.

  I stared, fascinated, because Dexter seemed much younger with them, going, ‘Oh Gran, leave it out!’ like any boy, and yet grinning at them too, obviously pleased they were there. I hovered shyly, wondering if I should quietly wheel myself back to the ward, because Dexter didn’t seem to notice me.

  ‘Who’s this?’ said his granny, smiling at me. She raised her voice and put her head on one side, treating me as if I were much younger too.

  ‘I’m Katy. I’m Dexter’s …’ I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. I hoped I was Dexter’s friend but it seemed a bit presumptuous to say so.

  ‘Oh, hi Katy,’ said Dexter carelessly. ‘She’s just one of the little kids from the girls’ ward.’

  My cheeks burned. ‘Just’! And I wasn’t ‘little’. My legs might not be able to move but they were still as long as ever. And I was eleven, not a little baby. I spun my wheels so I could turn round.

  ‘Katy? Come and meet my mum and gran,’ said Dexter quickly, seeing he’d insulted me.

  I hesitated, so the granny sprang up and tried to wheel me over herself. She was being helpful but it was highly irritating.

  ‘So how did you hurt yourself, dear?’ she asked. ‘Car accident?’

  ‘No, I – I fell,’ I mumbled. I hated telling anyone about my fall off my rope swing because it made me sound so stupid, and whenever I talked about it I felt I was falling again and started shaking.

  ‘Dear, dear, you poor little thing,’ she said. ‘Of course, you know how our Dexter came a cropper?’

  I didn’t know. I badly wanted to know but I knew he’d hate her telling me.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said quickly. ‘I think I’d better be getting back to my ward to see my own visitors. It’s OK, you don’t have to push me, I can move the wheels myself. See?’

  When I was at the end of the ward Dexter called, ‘Bye, Katy. Maybe come back later?’

  I gave him a nod and a wave and then I was off. And just arriving in my ward was Dad and the entire family: Clover, Elsie, Dorry, Jonnie and Phil, with Izzie herding them along. They’d bought Cecy too, who peered at me anxiously, biting her lip, looking terrified.

  ‘Hi everyone,’ I said.

  ‘Katy! What on earth are you doing wheeling yourself about like that? You know you’re meant to stay in your own ward,’ Izzie fussed.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said irritably, though I was starting to feel terribly tired and it was an effort to hold myself upright in the stupid wheelchair.

  ‘Shall I help you back into bed?’ Izzie asked.

  I longed to be lying flat in my bed, but I couldn’t bear the thought of the others seeing the whole horrible performance, my useless legs lolling.

  ‘No, I’m fine, I said,’ I insisted rudely. ‘Don’t you listen?’

  Izzie would normally have told me off for talking back to her like that. Dad would normally be mad at me for cheeking her. But this wasn’t normal. They just pretended not to notice.

  And I pretended not to notice that Cecy looked as if she wanted to bolt back down the ward, along the corridors and out of the hospital as fast as she could run.

  I wanted to run. But I was stuck there.

  ‘Look! We’ve all made you presents, Katy,’ said Clover eagerly, thrusting a carrier bag on to my lap.

  Clover had made me a cardboard box, decorating it with stickers and so much glitter that my hands were mottled silver just holding it.

  ‘Look inside,’ said Clover. ‘See? It’s got a special button and ribbon.’

  I undid the box and saw Clover had drawn many pictures of us together, a tall stick Katy and a round rosy Clover. We were playing all kinds of games. She’d even drawn us in the secret garden in the cave under the willow tree.

  ‘It’s a memory box,’ said Clover proudly. ‘For you to remember all our happy times together.’

  I had to fight not to burst into tears.

  Elsie had been busy with crayons and scissors too. She’d made strange little paper replicas of all sorts of things: jeans, Doc Martens, books, CDs, even a mobile phone.

  ‘They’re all the things I’d buy you if I had lots of money,’ she said.

  Everyone was looking at me, ready for me to praise Elsie and tell her I was thrilled. I struggled to find the right words.

  Elsie mistook my hesitation.

  ‘Don’t you like them? I did make a skateboard and a bike, though its wheels went a bit wobbly, because I knew you’d like them best, but Mum said I mustn’t give you them because it wouldn’t be tactful,’ she piped up.

  ‘Elsie!’ Izzie hissed, giving her a little shake.

  ‘Well, that’s what you said,’ Elsie repeated.

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Dad. ‘Say thank you, Katy.’

  ‘Thank you, Elsie,’ I said obediently.

  It was easier with Dorry and Jonnie and Phil. Dorry had made me sickly sweet fudge, seven pieces, which made a rectangle with one lump missing.

  ‘I needed to check it tasted OK,’ Dorry explained.

  Jonnie had made me a loom band bracelet.

  ‘See? It’s got red in it, because it’s your favourite colour,’ she said.

  I put the loom band bracelet on my wrist at once and nibbled at a square of fudge to show my appreciation.

  Phil gave me a mysterious round newsp