Sixteen and Dying by Lurlene McDaniel Page A

go?”
    “East.” His plan had been forming for weeks, and now it had taken on an urgency.
    “How long?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “I wish I could help you be happier, Morgan. Maybe some time away from here will do you good.”
    “It’s not just that,” Morgan said haltingly. “There are a lot of things I need to figure out. I need some time to sort through them.”
    “You know I understand.”
    He knew that his aunt did. She might be facing the same horrifying future as he. “I’ll let you know when I get where I’m going,” Morgan promised.
    “This is your home, so take a break, then come back.” She hugged him tight.
    “Thanks, Aunt Maggie.” Morgan felt a knot lodge in his throat. It was difficult to think about leaving, but he knew he must. He had to find some answers, not only about Anne Wingate, but about Morgan Lancaster too.
    Anne propped herself up in bed and tried to read. The type on the page of the book kept blurring. Thisnew problem frightened her very much. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing her eyesight and not being able to read. Her father had brought her a tape recorder and stacks of books on tape, but going blind was horrifying.
    Exasperated, she tossed the book aside. Out the window, the sky promised snow. Maybe they’d have a white Christmas. She smelled the scent of gingerbread coming from the kitchen. Mrs. Hankins’s work, Anne knew. Her father was out doing errands. Anne had asked him not to bother with presents for her this year, but he’d been so appalled that she’d not mentioned it a second time. Still, she knew that her time was running out and hadn’t wanted him to waste time and money for a Christmas she might not live to see.
    Every day, she was weaker, sicker. Her latest blood work had shown a very low platelet and white blood count. Right before Thanksgiving, she’d had to return to the hospital because of a persistent cough and high fever. Thankfully, she hadn’t developed pneumonia again. She heard the door buzzer; Mrs. Hankins answered it.
    Minutes later, Mrs. Hankins came to Anne’s room. “There’s someone to see you,” she said.
    “To see me? Who is it?”
    “A very handsome young man. He wouldn’t give his name.”
    “He must have the wrong Anne Wingate.” She couldn’t imagine that anyone from school would just drop by. “I really don’t feel like having visitors anyway.”
    “He said I had to persuade you. I told him I’d try, but it’s up to you, Anne.”
    Anne was mystified. “What does he look like?”
    “A cowboy.”
    Anne’s stomach lurched, and her heart wedged in her throat. It couldn’t be.… “Please don’t let him in.”
    “I’m in.” Morgan stood at the doorway.
    Anne covered her face and attempted to hunch down under the covers. “Don’t look at me,” she cried.
    “You’d better wait by the entry door,” Mrs. Hankins said.
    Morgan stepped around Mrs. Hankins and moved close to Anne’s bed. “Look at me,” he said. She kept her hands over her face, but he noticed lesions along her neck and on one of her hands.
    “Go away! Please! Don’t look at me! Why are you here?”
    “I had to see you.”
    “No!” The word sounded final and tortured. “I’m hideous, I’m sick. Go away!”
    “Please, young man,” Mrs. Hankins said. “You’re upsetting her.”
    Morgan gently took hold of both Anne’s wrists. Even though she tried to hide, he saw her face. She looked thin and gaunt. “I let you look at me when that bronc rearranged my face last summer.”
    Slowly, Anne raised her eyes to meet his. She could hardly keep from weeping. She wanted to run and hide, and yet she wanted to throw her arms around him. He looked so wonderful, so healthy.
    “I’ve changed, haven’t I?” Anne asked, her voice quivering.
    She’d changed horribly, he thought, but he knew what courage it had taken for her to face him. “What’s wrong, Anne? We’re all worried about you.”
    “I’m ill.” She held her head higher