Page 84

“Shooting on the east side,” Layla says, scrolling on her tablet.

“Read it to us,” Brandy says, and Layla does, all of us getting a little excited when she gets to the part about it being execution style.

“Head shot, good for us.” Brandy pulls out her phone. “There a name?”

Layla finds it and Brandy shoots a text off to her buddy at the DMV. “What are our odds, Sasha?”

I glance over at them from the window, where a solid inch of snow has fallen to top off the three that settled from last night. “It’s impossible to say. There are just too many variables: blood type, Rh factor, tissue match, distance from donor to recipient, plus we don’t know where we fall on the donor list, so—”

“Yadda yadda, blah blah,” Brandy says, mimicking a hand puppet at me. “It’s a game. You don’t have to be right.”

That’s the thing though, I kind of do. All the time. But my friend wants me to say something so I’ll do what I’m supposed to. I’ve learned that.

“One in eight,” I say, making up anything to get her off my case.

“I’ll take those odds,” Layla says.

My phone vibrates in my lap, and I tilt it so I can read the message against the glare coming from the windows. It’s a new message from Brooke, waiting underneath the one that came in right before Amanda made me find my soul in a microwave box.

Assuming yu r dead. Pls spectrally instruct yur parents to give me my old phone back.

I’m here—doing better.

Snow day 2day. BORED. Send invasive procedure pics.

Snowing here too.

My thumbs hover over the screen, wanting to say more, thank Brooke for being a real friend. I’m not good with those moments though, even when they’re not face-to-face. Maybe I’ll get a transplant and ask them to film my surgery for her instead.

A piece of paper slides under Layla’s door, and Brandy snatches it up, waving it in the air. “Oohhh, TODAY AT THE CARDIAC CENTER!” she announces.

I groan, not even turning my head away from the storm outside. Snow is piling on the window ledge, each flake distinct until it smears into the next.

“There’s not a whole hell of a lot going on,” Brandy says, scanning the page. “‘Scrappy Over Scrabble,’” she reads. “‘Come to the common room to outwit fellow wordsters’—oh Jesus, never mind.”

“‘Outwit fellow wordsters’?” I repeat. “That’s a mouthful.”

“This bit must be in there just for us,” Brandy says, still reading. “‘Note: Please no actual scrapping.’”

“Sounds more like Karen’s scrapbooking class,” Layla mutters, scrolling through her news feed.

“Ooooo, burn,” Brandy says, followed by, “Oh my actual God.”

“What?”

But Brandy doesn’t answer me, and her silence gets my attention as well as Layla’s. Brandy is holding the agenda out so we can read it, because she’s incapable of speech.

TODAY AT THE CARDIAC CENTER!

2:00 p.m.—Two Girls, One Cup! Join junior jokesters Paula and Mei as they entertain us with their stand-up routine. Note: The girls say audience participation is welcome, but bring your own cup! Can’t wait to see what these krazy kids have up their sleeves!

“They can’t possibly know,” Brandy says.

“They don’t know,” Layla agrees.

“Two girls one cup is—”

“I KNOW,” I stop Brandy before she can get far.