Catwoman: Soulstealer (DC Icons #3)(4)

She fished the cash from her pocket and set it on the plastic table.

Hauling a small box in the center of the table toward her, Selina looted through it with the hand that hurt only a fraction less than the other. She’d have to be smart at the market—the EBT funds only stretched so far. Certainly not far enough to cover herself and a sister with severe cystic fibrosis. Selina had read up on food-as-medicine on a library computer while waiting for Maggie to finish her after-school theater class. Not a cure-all, but eating healthy could help. Anything was worth a try. If it bought them time. If it brought Maggie any relief.

Cystic fibrosis—Selina couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t known those words. What they meant: the incurable genetic disease that caused a buildup of mucus in several organs, but especially the lungs. The mucus clogged and blocked airways, where it trapped bacteria that at best led to infections. At worst: lung damage and respiratory failure.

And then there was the mucus that also built up in the pancreas, blocking the enzymes that helped break down food and absorb nutrients.

Selina had Googled it once: life expectancy for severe cystic fibrosis.

She’d closed the web browser and vomited into the library’s toilet for thirty minutes afterward.

Selina studied the cash on the table and swallowed. The kinds of healthy foods Maggie needed didn’t come cheap. The frozen microwave dinners were emergency meals. Garbage food. The fresh Italian meal Maggie had consumed tonight was a rare treat.

And perhaps an apology, for the fight Selina had left her sister in order to take part in.

“Your face.”

The rasping words had Selina’s head snapping up. “You should be asleep.”

Maggie’s curly brown hair was half wild, a pillow wrinkle running down her too-thin pale cheek. Only her green eyes—the single trait they shared, despite having two different fathers—were clear. Alert. “Don’t forget to ice your hands. You won’t be able to use them tomorrow if you don’t.”

Selina gave her sister a half smile, which only made her face hurt more, and obeyed, transferring the peas from her throbbing face to the split, swollen skin of her knuckles. At least the swelling had gone down since the fight finished an hour ago.

Maggie slowly crossed the room, and Selina tried not to wince at the labored breathing, the quiet clearing of her sister’s throat. The latest lung infection had taken its toll, and the color was gone from her usually pink cheeks. “You should go to the hospital,” Maggie breathed. “Or let me clean you up.”

Selina ignored both suggestions and asked, “How are you feeling?”

Maggie pulled the pile of cash toward her, eyes widening as she began counting wrinkled twenties. “Fine.”

“You do your homework?”

A wry, exasperated look. “Yes. And tomorrow’s.”

“Good girl.”

Maggie studied her, those green eyes too alert, too aware. “We’ve got the doctor tomorrow after school.”

“What about it?”

Maggie finished counting the money and neatly set the stack into the small box with the EBT card. “Mom won’t be there.”

Neither would Maggie’s father—whoever he was. Selina doubted even her mother knew. Selina’s own father…She only knew what her mother had said during one of her rambling monologues while high: that her mother had met him through a friend at a party. Nothing more. Not even a name.

Selina moved the frozen peas from her right hand to her left. “No, she won’t. But I will.”

Maggie scratched at an invisible fleck on the table. “Auditions for the spring play are soon.”

“You going to try out?”

A little shrug. “I want to ask the doctor if I can.”

So responsible, her sister. “What musical is it this year?”

“Carousel.”

“Have we watched that one?”

A shake of the head, those curls bouncing, and a beaming smile.

Selina smiled back. “But I assume we’re going to watch it tomorrow night?” Friday night—movie night. Courtesy of a DVD player she and the Leopards had taken off the back of a truck, and the library’s extensive movie section.

Maggie nodded. Broadway musicals: Maggie’s not-so-secret dream and lifelong obsession. Selina had no idea where it had come from. They’d certainly never been able to afford theater tickets, but Maggie’s school had taken plenty of field trips to Gotham City productions. Perhaps she’d picked it up at one of those outings, that undying love. Undimming, even when the cystic fibrosis battered her lungs so brutally that singing, standing on a stage, and dancing were difficult.

Perhaps a lung transplant might change that, but she was at the bottom of a long, long list. Even as Maggie’s health plummeted with each passing month, she didn’t move any higher. And the drugs that the doctors had hailed as breakthroughs that would add decades of life for some people with CF…Maggie hadn’t responded to them.

But Selina wasn’t about to tell her sister any of that. She’d never make her feel like there were limits to what she could do.

That Maggie was even willing to audition made Selina’s chest unbearably tight.

“You should go to bed,” Selina said to her sister, setting down the frozen peas.

“You should, too,” Maggie said tartly.