Five Feet Apart(56)

I swing my legs around, jumping up, excitement filling me from head to toe. “Oh my god! Stella, we have to go right now!” I grab her hand, trying to pull her off the railing. “Lungs—they have lungs for you!”

She doesn’t budge. We need to get back ASAP. Why isn’t she moving? Doesn’t she understand?

I watch her face as she stares off at the lights, completely unfazed by what I just said. “I haven’t seen the lights yet.”

What the fuck?

“You knew?” I ask, shock hitting me like a tractor trailer. “What are we doing out here, Stella? These lungs are your chance for a real life.”

“New lungs? Five years, Will. That’s the shelf life on them.” She snorts, glancing over at me. “What happens when those lungs start to fail? I’m right back to square one.”

This is all my fault. The Stella from two weeks ago would never be this stupid. But now, all thanks to me, she’s about to throw everything away.

“Five years is a lifetime to people like us, Stella!” I shout back, trying to get her to see. “Before the B. cepacia, I would’ve killed for new lungs. Don’t be stupid.” I pull my phone out, starting to dial. “I’m calling the hospital.”

“Will!” she shouts, moving to stop me.

I watch in horror as her cannula tubing catches again on a gap in the stone footbridge, her head jerking back as she loses her balance. She tries to grab the slippery railing ledge, but her hand slides right off and she goes plummeting down.

I try to grab ahold of her, but she slams onto the ice, landing on her back, the concentrator landing with a plunk next to her.

“Stella, shit! Are you okay?” I shout, about to launch myself over the side to her unmoving body.

And then she starts laughing. She’s not hurt. Oh, thank god. She’s not hurt. I shake my head, relief filling my chest.

“That was some—”

There’s a loud crack. I see her scramble, but there’s no time.

“Stella!” I call out as the ice shatters beneath her, sucking her in, the dark water swallowing her whole.





CHAPTER 25


STELLA


I thrash, icy water all around me as I try to swim to the surface. My coat is so heavy, the water clings to it, dragging me farther and farther down into the deep. I frantically unzip it, starting to slide out of it when I see Patches, floating away. My lungs burn as I gaze up at the light from the hole that I fell through, the thin cord from the oxygen concentrator a guide to the surface.

But then I look over to Patches.

My body sinks deeper and deeper, the cold pushing the air out of my lungs, bubbles pouring out of me and up to the surface.

I go for the panda, reaching desperately for him, my fingertips grazing his fur. I cough, the last of my oxygen leaving my body, my head pounding, and the water fills my lungs.

My vision blurs and darkens, the water changing in front of my eyes, slowly morphing into a black sky, tiny pinpoints of light appearing.

Stars.

The stars from Abby’s drawing. They swim toward me, surrounding me, and circling all around me. I float among them, watching as they twinkle.

Wait.

This isn’t right.

I blink, and I’m back in the water, strength filling my body as I pull with everything in me back to the top. A hand reaches out to me, my fingertips wrapping desperately around it as I’m heaved effortlessly out of the water.

I lie there, gasping, and sit up, looking around.

Where’s Will?

Reaching up, I feel my hair. Dry. I touch my shirt and my pants. Dry. I lay my palm flat on the ice, expecting to feel the cold. But . . . nothing. Something is wrong.

“I know you miss me, but this is taking it a little far,” a voice says from beside me. I look over, taking in the curly brown hair, hazel eyes identical to mine, the familiar smile.

Abby.

It’s Abby.

I don’t understand. I throw my arms around her, hugging her to make sure she’s real. She’s really there. She’s—wait.

I pull back and look around me, at the frozen pond, at the stone footbridge. “Abby. Am I . . . dead?”

She shakes her head, squinting. “Eh . . . not quite.”

Not quite? I am so happy to see her, but the relief at her words overwhelms me. I don’t want to die yet.

I want to actually live my life.

We both hear a splash somewhere in the distance. I turn, looking for the source of the sound, but don’t see anything. What was that noise?

I strain my ears and that’s when I hear it, like an echo, somewhere in the distance.

His voice.

It’s Will’s voice, ragged, coming between sharp, shallow breaths. “Hold on, Stella!”

I look at Abby, and I know she hears it too. We look down as my chest starts to slowly expand and fall, expand and fall, over and over and over again.

Like I’m getting CPR.

“Not . . . now. Come . . . on, not now. Breathe,” his voice says, clearer now.

“What’s happening?” I ask her, watching as the view in front of me starts to slowly change. Will. His silhouette begins to form, close enough to touch.

He’s leaning over a body.

My body.

I watch as he shivers, coughing, his body swaying as he starts to collapse. Every single breath is a struggle, and I watch as he gasps for air, trying desperately to fill his lungs.