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I pull the car into Kenzi’s driveway.
She’s already out front. She’s standing in the snow like a statue, in a sweater that isn’t thick enough, her arms wrapped around her, hugging her chest. I doubt she’s moved from that spot for the past hour.
Jason rouses Otto. “We’re here, buddy.”
Otto’s lips pull into a thin line, like he’s about to face a harsh sentencing. The three of us exit, and immediately, Kenzi crouches in front of Otto and takes his face in her hands.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her eyes scanning him for signs of injury.
“I’m fine,” he mumbles, shame-faced. “I’m sorry…”
She pulls him against her, hugging him tightly. “You’re okay,” she murmurs. “That’s all that matters.”
The fear in her voice is palpable. She kisses the top of his head and then ushers him inside. “Go inside, okay? Grandma’s made dinner.”
“Love Missus P’s cooking,” Jason says. Which is when Kenzi turns on him, and he stops dead in his tracks.
“You,” she hisses. “You lost him!”
She has all the fury of a mountain lion right now, and even Jason recoils. “Technically, it was more of a runaway situation—”
“Never in my life—”
“Mum!” Otto steps in between them suddenly. “He’s right. It was me. I tricked him.”
“Otto, go inside,” Kenzi says, her teeth chattering, from anger, or cold, or both.
She launches into another tirade on Jason, but my attention is on Otto…
Because all of the color has left his face.
I catch him just before he hits the floor. Otto is twitching, seizing in my arms.
“Oh God.” Kenzi immediately drops to the ground beside us. “Otto, honey, look at me—”
“It’s okay,” I reassure her. I gently lower him to the ground and get him on his side. I take off my jacket and quickly fold it under his head. He jerks, spasming, but this will pass soon.
Kenzi, on the other hand, looks like she wants to die. Her bottom lip is quivering, but she keeps it together.
“Start the car,” I tell Jason.
As Jason gets the car going, I do a quick check on Otto’s vitals. When his body unwinds from its rigid state, I inspect his face and peel down his eyelid.
That’s when I notice it. The yellow in his eyes.
56
Kenzi
“Focal segmental glomerulosclerosis.”
Donovan spouts off the words like they mean something to me. It’s another string of hospital gibberish. Words that sound like a life sentence and feel like weights on my heart.
We’re in a glass room, separated from the waiting room, which I guess is designed to give loved ones a little privacy while receiving hard news. I don’t feel safe, though. I feel like a goldfish on display.
“What does it mean?” I ask.
At least Donovan’s eyes are kind, familiar, and they never leave me. He sits calmly in the chair across from me, and I hug my arms around my chest.
