Ways to Live Forever Read Free Page B

woman’s been coming out here long enough.”
    “I like Mrs Willis,” I said quickly. I don’t want to go back to school. The kids all stare and ask questions. Like: “How come you get to go home when you get tired?” Or: “How sick are you really ?”
    “Daniel. . .” Mum said, in her warning voice. Ella was staring. Dad shook his head.
    “It’s ridiculous. Anyone can see how much better Sam is now. It’s silly to keep him cooped up here with nothing to do. . .”
    “I’ve got lots of things to do,” I said. “Dad. Don’t. I’m fine.”
    “Daniel. . .” said Mum, again. All of the smile had gone out of her face. “Daniel, don’t start all that again. Please . Not in front of the children.”
    Ella was tugging on Mum’s sleeve. “Mum? Mum? What’s the matter? Mum ?”
    Mum didn’t answer. She was looking at Dad. Dad looked sort of guilty and determined at the same time.
    “I don’t think that doctor knew what he was talking about,” he said. “Sam’s doing great. Just look at him.”
    They all looked at me. Ella screamed. “Sam!”
    I put my hand up to my face. It was covered in blood.
    Mum shot this look at Dad, like it was his fault. Which it wasn’t. She came and knelt down beside me. “All right, Sam. Lean forward. There you go. It’s just a nosebleed. Daniel – Daniel – don’t just sit there – go and get some tissues. All right, Sam.”
    I get nosebleeds a lot. I hate it. I hate everyone fussing. Ella being a helpful Brownie, passing tissues to Mum. Mum telling me what to do, like I don’t already know. And Dad. Not moving. Just sitting there. Watching, with this odd look on his face.
    I ducked my head, and pretended that some strong wind had swept right through the house and blown them all away. I stared instead at the drops of blood, still falling – drip – drip – drip – out of my cupped hands and on to the floor.
     
    And now I’m tied to a pole. This also happens a lot.
     
    After my nosebleed stopped, Mum phoned Annie. Annie’s my special nurse, from hospital. She’s crazy. She’s got this pink scooter that she rides everywhere. She calls herself Dracula because she’s always taking kids’ blood to do tests on.
    “What’ve you been up to, then?” she said, as she sat down next to me to take a blood sample. I took my T-shirt off so she could get at my Hickman Line. A Hickman Line is this long, skinny tube that I’ve got stuck in my chest. They use it to take blood and give me stuff through. It’s pretty boring, but it’s a pain because it’s always there and you can’t ever forget you’re ill.
    I don’t know what Annie expected me to answer. I thought about everything that was happening – this book, the things Felix and I have started doing, my questions, Dad saying Dr Bill had got it wrong and maybe I was going to get better after all.
    “Nothing,” I said.
    After Annie had gone, things stayed gloomy. What usually happens when I have nosebleeds and things is I get given platelets – I get them about once a week – but before I do they have to do tests on my blood. So while we were waiting for the results, Mum clattered about being angry and Dad skulked at the end of the table, not being sorry. Eventually, he went into the kitchen after Mum. Ella and I could hear them talking in low voices, but we couldn’t tell if they were fighting or making up.
    And I did need platelets. Annie brought them from the hospital just now. They’re yellow and squidgy and they come in a floppy bag, like blood. You hook them on to a metal pole 2 and they go in through your line. They’re the bits in blood that make scabs and stop it all running out when you cut yourself.
    That’s all you can say about platelets, really.

 
     
THE FRENCH SPY OR
    THE STORY OF HOW I MET FELIX
 
     
     
     
     
    Remember I told you I collected stories, right at the start? True ones are best. This is a true story. It’s the story of how I met Felix.
    It was last year, when I was in