Anthem for Jackson Dawes by Celia Bryce Read Free Book Online Page B

with toys and paints and clay. There were finger puppets and dressing-up clothes. If you were little, you could pretend to be a doctor or a nurse and stick needles in your doll.
    Siobhan said it was to help children feel normal, to stop them thinking about bad things, to prepare them for all the tests. If they had some idea, it wasn’t so frightening for them.
    â€˜It’s all right for you older ones,’ she said. ‘You can understand what’s happening. But the radiotherapy machines, they’re like some huge great monster when you’re a little person. It’s only for a few minutes, but it’s like an eternity to the wee ones.’
    You didn’t have to be little to feel time dragging. Being stuck here was like an eternity. Too tired to move, not enough energy to draw, too wiped out to even text her friends. Not that she wanted to. What was there to tell? They were at school doing real stuff. She was here doing nothing, just listening to Jackson getting himself into trouble.
    They wouldn’t understand.
    She couldn’t even remember what she’d be doing now if she
was
at school. She couldn’t picture any of it. It was all outside the walls and she was inside. Like being trapped in a snow globe without the snow.
    Megan blinked open her eyes. She hadn’t really been sleeping but it was easier to lie with her eyes closed than keep them open. She’d managed to draw some useless scribbles earlier, but it was as if the chemo had stopped her mind from working properly and her hand from drawing anything good. She tried to read her book. It was a great book. At least it had been when she started it at home. There was course-work she could be doing too. They’d sorted some out for her at school and Mum brought it in earlier, stowing it in her locker. She must have noticed the Don’t-Even-Think-I’m-Doing-Homework sort of look Megan gave her, so didn’t mention it. Besides, there were cards to put up on the wall behind the bed. Mum read out all of the names and all of the messages, every single one of them, so that the words spun around in Megan’s head.
    It was a relief when Mum decided she had to post off a parcel to Dad and though, once she’d gone, there was still the busyness of the ward outside her door, there was peace in her room.
    For a little while at least.
    Now there was someone at her door.
    Megan turned to see an alien standing there, or a princess. She wasn’t quite sure. A head as smooth as an egg. Big blue eyes. No eyebrows. And thin as a pencil. The pink frilly dress skimmed her shoulders and fell like a lacy sack around her. She had a fine tube coming from her nose and taped to her cheek. Her name bracelet looked two sizes too big. She was the most beautiful thing Megan had ever seen.
    â€˜Hello … are you … Kipper?’ The alien nodded. Megan pulled herself to a half-sitting position and her book slid to the floor. ‘Are you looking for Jackson?’
    A shake of the head.
    â€˜I was talking to your mum the other night.’ Was it last night? Or the night before? She couldn’t remember. Not that it mattered. The girl didn’t say anything.
    Megan wondered what she was doing there in her doorway and hoped that someone would come and take her away again. She shook herself. How horrible can you get? Did the chemo really make you that nasty?
    â€˜Is there something wrong? Will I call for a nurse?’ Kipper shook her head at every question. Megan was tired out. ‘Well, d’you want to come in?’
    Interest. At last.
    â€˜Jackson never bothers to ask, so you needn’t.’ Megan smiled, but the girl didn’t smile back or show signs of moving any time soon. She stood like a wedge in the door.
    â€˜So, how long have you been in?’
    Kipper shrugged. She was looking at Megan with a kind of expectance on her face. What did she want? Why was she here?
    â€˜Are you allowed juice or