Free The Return by Christopher Pike Page A

were simple: she delivered meals to patients. But even this job turned out to be complex with the elderly patients. Not one but two old women thought she was their granddaughter. At first Jean denied the relationship, but when she saw how much it meant to the women to have a visit from a granddaughter, Jean decided to play along, reminiscing about events she had no memory of and adding details the women had no minds to doubt. On the whole she had the most fun with the senior citizens and children. Really, helping people got her high, and somehow she had known it would happen.
    The patient who affected her the most, though, was a teenage girl named Debra Zimmerer. She was eighteen, the same as Jean, and dying. Just before Jean delivered her food, the nurses told her that Debra had leukemia, and they felt she wasn't going to make it When Jean brought in her tray, she found Debra lying in bed and reading J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, which Jean had read in the hospital. Debra was worn-out pretty, with faded brown eyes as weary as those of a sick model in an old oil painting. She was five feet five and weighed maybe eighty pounds. Jean took one look at her and felt a painful stab in her gut, but somehow she managed to smile as she set down the tray.
    "Awesome book, huh?" Jean asked.
    Debra set the fat book aside. "I guess. I'm just nearthe beginning."
    "Keep going. It keeps getting better and better. In fact, I think it's the best story I ever read." Jean lifted the lid off her plate. "Would you like something to eat? I brought you chicken, but if you don't like it they have some kind of fish."
    Debra sat up weakly. "I'm not that hungry."
    "How about something to drink? I have apple juice or orange juice or ginger ale."
    Debra nodded. "I could drink some ginger ale."
    Jean opened the can and poured Debra a glass. Debra's voice was dry, which Jean understood to be a side effect of the morphine she took to control the pain. Debra lifted it to her lips and took a sip. The act seemed to exhaust her, and she put down the glass quickly. Jean sat on the bed beside her.
    "Is there anything else I can get you?" Jean asked.
    Debra coughed. "No."
    Jean patted her on the back. "Are you OK?"
    Debra nodded and wiped at her colorless lips. "Yes."
    Jean shook her head. "That was a stupid question. I'm sorry, of course you're not OK." She paused. "I heard you have leukemia."
    Debra watched her. "Yes. It's a drag. What's your name?"
    "Jean. You're Debra, right?"
    "Yes." Debra glanced at the book. "Could you tell me how the story ends?"
    Jean forced a smile. "I don't want to do that. It'll spoil it for you." Then she stopped, hearing what Debra was really asking her. It was a long story, really three books in one. Debra was not going to live long enough to finish it and she knew it. "But if you want me to, I can. I can do it today after I finish delivering these trays."
    Debra stared at the far wall for a moment. "How about tomorrow? That would be a good day for me.
    Jean nodded. "I can come tomorrow evening and tell you the whole story." She added, without even thinking about what she was going to say, "Maybe I can tell you one of my stories as well."
    Debra was interested. "Do you write stories?"
    Jean shrugged. "I'm only working on one so far. It's about this famous writer and her muse. Only her muse is a troll who appears out of her bedroom closet one day and demands half her royalties. I'll tell you what I have of it so far and you can tell me whether you think I should bother finishing it."
    "OK." Debra lowered her head. "It'll be nice to have a visitor."
    "Doesn't anyone come to see you?"
    "Just my father. But I can't talk to him because he's too scared about me being sick." Debra hesitated.
    "He's afraid I'm going to die."
    Jean spoke gently. "Are you afraid?"
    Debra raised her head and wiped her nose. "Yeah. I know it's going to happen, but I'm still scared. My doctor told me." Again she stared at the far wall. "I have no idea