Ann Martin - Jessi's Wish

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Ramsey," added Charlotte politely.

Becca was already running across the lawn. "Oh, good! You're wearing the T-shirt!" she said to Danielle. (For some reason, Becca just loved that BALD is BEAUTIFUL shirt. She was ecstatic each time Danielle wore it.)

"Hi, girls!" Mrs. Roberts called from the front door. "Danielle, slow down."

Danielle leaned conspiratorially toward Becca and Charlotte. "I had a headache earlier today," she whispered. "Mommy made me rest all afternoon. I got so bored. I'm really glad you're here."

"Do you have to rest during the cookout?" asked Charlotte.

"I hope not/' Danielle replied. "Come on inside, you guys. Hey, Jessi, you haven't met Mr. Toes yet."

"Who's Mr. Toes?" I asked.

"Our new kitten. Well, really he's Greg's new kitten, but he seems to belong to everyone in the family."

Becca and Charlotte and I followed Danielle inside — and right through her house and out the back door.

"Mr. Toes is so cute," Becca informed me on the way. "He's all gray except for his toes, which are white. That's why Greg named him Mr. Toes."

On the back patio were Mr. Roberts and Greg. Mr. Roberts was wearing an apron and a chef's hat. He was standing over the barbecue, flipping hamburgers and turning pieces of chicken. Greg was on his hands and knees, peering inside a grocery bag that was lying on its side.

"Mr. Toooooes, Mr. Toooooes," he was calling softly.

A gray bundle of fur darted out of the bag, then back inside.

"Well," said Danielle, "that was Mr. Toes. He moves fast."

We played with Mr. Toes until dinner was ready. Danielle's mother had set the picnic table with a red-and-white-checked cloth, paper plates, and plastic forks and knives.

"This looks fantastic," I said, as Mr. Roberts set down a bowl of potato salad.

Danielle's parents did everything they could to make the picnic special. When supper was over, we roasted marshmallows in the barbecue. Then we sang songs. Mr. Roberts even sent Becca, Charlotte, Danielle, and Greg on a treasure hunt. (The prize was a book of jokes.) While the kids followed the clues, which led them around the backyard, I sat with Mr. and Mrs. Roberts. I watched them as they watched the kids. Mostly, they smiled. The kids were clowning around. Danielle kept shouting, "X marks the spot! X marks trie spot!" and Greg rushed after her, crying, "Buried treasure!" and, "Yo ho ho! We are pirates!"

But sometimes this very thoughtful expression would come over the Robertses' faces. I thought I knew why. Four energetic children were tearing around the yard. There was Greg, with his sturdy legs and his shock of reddish-

brown hair. There was Becca, who seemed to have endless energy and was always the one sent up trees or behind bushes to search for clues. There was Charlotte, her long, dark hair pulled into a fat braid, dashing after Becca. And there was Danielle, with her knobby knees and elbows, her slightly askew scarf that showed her bald head quite plainly, and her

BALD IS BEAUTIFUL shirt.

What did her parents think as they watched her? Did they remember cookouts from a year earlier, when Danielle was strong and healthy and had hair like her brother's? Did they wonder whether they would have another cook-out, just like this one, a year from then? Did they hope? Did they try not to hope? Did they try to forget?

"Danielle!" called Mrs. Roberts, standing up. "Pill time!"

"Right now?" exclaimed Greg. "Right in the middle of our treasure hunt?"

"Yes, right now," said Mrs. Roberts. "Danielle, come on, sweetie."

"Is Danielle going to get a piece of candy after she takes her pills?" asked Greg. "Because if she is, that's not fair. I mean, if she is, I want a piece of candy, too. I want — "

"Greg, you don't have to take pills," said Mr. Roberts.

"And Danielle, you do. Come here, please."

Danielle trotted across the grass to her mother.

Mrs. Roberts rested her hand on Danielle's forehead. "Feeling okay?"

Danielle nodded. "I'm fine. I want to finish the treasure hunt."

"Okay. After your pills. And when the treasure hunt is over, Becca and Jessi and Charlotte will have to go home. You need to go to bed."

"All right."

"But I'm not tired," whined Greg. "I don't want everyone to go home. I want to stay up and play. I want ..." Greg trailed off. He watched his sister follow Mrs. Roberts into the house.

Then he sighed.

I decided that having a brother or sister who's sick must be awfully difficult. Greg probably didn't understand much about leukemia — except that because of it, his sister had spent a lot of time in the hospital. So his parents had, too. And that Greg spent a lot of time with neighbors and his grandparents. And that after Danielle came home, people gave her most of the attention. I wasn't too surprised when, a little later, Greg flung himself on the ground and threw a tantrum, yelling, "I wish I was sick, too!" (Mr. and Mrs. Roberts tried to ignore him.)

By the time Daddy arrived to take Becca and Charlotte and me home, Greg was quiet. And Becca had run out of steam. It was only nine o'clock, but she'd been pretty active. Charlotte was tired, too. Danielle was nearly asleep.

The girls called exhausted good-byes to each other, and then we left. That night, I couldn't stop thinking about Danielle and her family. They needed a vacation badly, I thought. I wished that Danielle's wish would come true soon.

Guess what happened the next afternoon. My friends and I decided to hold another weekend BSC meeting. But this time the meeting was held in my room! That was a first. I felt honored.

However, I decided my room did not look fit for a meeting. So I spent two hours cleaning it. I swept dustballs out from under my bed. Those dustballs must have been as old as I was. Well, not really. But they had probably started forming the day we moved into the house. I dusted my collection of ceramic horses. I wiped the glass covering my ballet posters. I straightened up my stuffed animals, and I organized my books.

I finished just as our doorbell rang. A few moments later, Mary Anne and Dawn ran up-

stairs. Soon we were joined by Kristy, Mallory, Claud, and Stace.

"Welcome," said Kristy, "to another totally casual BSC meeting. Today's topic of conversation is ... Our Activities, An Update. I'll start."

Kristy talked about the babies. She especially liked Joy. (Maybe that was because Joy especially liked Kristy.)

"Frankie is making progress," reported Mary Anne. "Just a little, but it's progress anyway. His parents chart his skills so they can actually see if he improves. It's sort of hard to tell, if you just watch Frankie. But when you look at the charts and you see that this week Frankie sat up for eight seconds straight, and last week his record was six seconds, then you know you're making a difference. Frankie might be able to crawl someday. Maybe even walk."

"I had a talk with Charmaine," Stacey announced. "I told her that I have not always been such a great diabetes patient. And I told her about the time when I gorged on candy and stuff and finally wound up in the hospital. I think I made an impression. Charmaine asked about a zillion questions."

"That's great," said Mal. "I'm having fun at the playground. All the kids are neat, but there's this one boy, Danny. He's five years

old. I just love him. I know we shouldn't play favorites, and I really try not to. But Danny is so sweet. Yesterday he picked a bouquet of weeds for me,"

"I guess I sort of singled out Danielle," I said. "I've gotten to know her family, and . . . and, oh! She might get her wish! She's on the YWIMC wish list!"

"Cool," said Dawn. "I tried not to play favorites, either. But at the Institute I always see a little girl named Kendra. She has cerebral palsy. Boy, you guys should hear about what happens at Baker. ..."