Say Good-bye Read Free Page B

look pretty nice, though.
    The place smells like disinfectant. Colored drawings dot the faded green walls like wild-flowers. Pictures of rainbows, of mommies and daddies. Signs that say I LOVE YOU, DR. BILL!
    As Jane checks in at the nurses’ desk, I peek down the hall and into the nearest room.
    Oh, my gosh!
There’s a girl about my agepropped up in bed watching cartoons—and she’s totally bald!
    I’ve heard that chemotherapy—the drugs they give people to try to cure cancer—can make people lose their hair. But I’ve never actually seen anybody it’s happened to.
    I suddenly feel very conspicuous with my thick blond hair streaming down below my shoulders. I wish I’d skipped the shampoo and blow-dry this morning—wish I’d simply stuffed my hair up under a baseball cap like Maggie.
    I’m speechless.
    I mean, it’s one thing to be able to ask a smiling soap star for an autograph or to order from a waiter using the French that you’ve learned at school.
    But what do you say to a girl without any hair?
    I hug Yum-Yum to my chest. I’m really not prepared for this.
    Then I feel an arm slip around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, Zoe,” Jane says softly, with a reassuring smile. “They’re normal kids like you. They’ve just had some really rotten luck.”
    “Yeah,” I whisper.
    “Cancer’s a stinking disease,” she adds, “but you can’t catch it from another person. And it doesn’t change these kids in here.” She taps her chest over her heart.
    “But their hair…”
    Jane chuckles softly. “That’s how I got into this in the first place,” she explains. “I do free hair-styling for chemotherapy patients. And if they want, I help them with wigs till their own hair grows back in. But wigs are uncomfortable for a lot of kids. So they feel better going au naturel.” She winks at me. “You’ll get used to it.”
    I smile. But inside I’m thinking,
How could you ever get used to it?
    Suddenly Yum-Yum spots a tall skinny kid at the end of the hall. I bite my lip.
    Bald head. Shapeless hospital gown. Oh, gosh! At this distance, I can’t even tell if it’s a boy or a girl!
    Yum-Yum barks and wriggles in my arms.
    “Go ahead,” Jane says. “You can just put him down and let him go.”
    I stoop down and release him.
    The kid grins and throws a small red ball. As Yum-Yum dashes after it down the hall, I hearkids squeal and call out his name as they wander out of their rooms. Normal kid sounds. Not what you’d expect in a hospital.
    Yum-Yum catches the ball and carries it over to another patient—a young girl who looks about eight.
    “Give!” the young girl commands.
    Instantly Yum-Yum lays the ball at her feet.
    “Good dog!” the girl praises him. She gives his head a good scratching.
    “I wish Sneakers would behave like that,” I tell Jane. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a wonderful dog, and he’s always there for me when I’m sad.”
The way Mom used to be.
“But he sure doesn’t mind me very well.”
    “Don’t worry,” Jane says. “He’ll learn. He’s still a puppy. Just give it time, and stick with it. Then maybe one day, you can train Sneakers to do therapy visits, too.”
    I roll my eyes. “No way. He’s barely house-broken.”
    “Well, you do have to get that down first!” She chuckles.
    I follow Jane down to a lounge area. The windows look out onto a pretty garden in front ofthe hospital. There are lots of, plants around the room, plus several jigsaw puzzles and a chess set laid out on some tables.
    Many of the kids gather around. They’re all different ages, from teenagers to really little kids. Some have hair, some don’t. Some look okay. Others look really sick—pale and thin and tired, like they’ve had the flu or something.
    But they all smile at the sight of Yum-Yum.
    “Hey, Michael, check it out. That dog looks like a runaway wig!” a teenage boy jokes. I guess he hasn’t seen Yum-Yum here before.
    “Huh? Don’t make fun of my main man!”