Free Hold Her Heart (Words of the Heart) by Holly Jacobs

backyard wasn’t as jungle-esque as Piper’s, but even in the morning murkiness I could see Piper’s garden encroaching on his. I looked at the chestnut tree—Logan’s tree. It looked sturdy in the corner.
    When the coffee was done, I found a mug and padded out into the backyard. The ground was cold and dewy as I walked along the woodchip path, through the hole in the fence, and into Piper’s backyard. I went to the bench we’d sat on yesterday and pulled my now freezing wet feet up onto the seat.
    For a moment I sat in the silent morning but gradually realized it wasn’t silent at all. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of it waking up. There was a bird feeder up closer to the house, and I could hear the birds calling out. A series of chirps, clicks, and whistles. I realized that the yard was a cacophony of sound.
    Suddenly the sounds altered. The birds’ calls grew shriller and then stopped abruptly. Seconds later, there was the sound of someone running on the path.
    “I thought I saw you,” Fiona said. “You’re an early bird, like me. That makes sense ’cause we’re sisters.”
    She was fully dressed, but she obviously hadn’t brushed her hair. It stuck out this way and that from the remnants of yesterday’s ponytail.
    “If you sit here real quiet, you can hear my sparrows. They come to the feeder first thing every morning to check it out. If you’re sitting closer to the house, you can see a couple come up and make sure there’s feed, and then they call out to all the rest of them, and soon the feeder’s swarming with them.”
    “You like birds?” I asked.
    She nodded, sending more wisps of hair bolting from the ponytail holder. “Yeah. I like ’em all. When we used to go to the beach, I’d take bread for the seagulls. Logan says they’re flying rats, but I like ’em. Did you ever read Jonathan Livingston Seagull ? I think that’s why,” she said, not leaving me time to answer. “They’ve got snowy owls out on the peninsula now and bald eagles. And blue herons. Oh, and there’s a whole part of the beach they close down every spring ’cause they hope some birds nest there. Plovers I think. I’d like to go to the peninsula and spot them, but Mom’s not really up to that, so we just watch them back here. I got her garden certified as a wildlife habitat last year for her birthday. There’s a little plaque near the house.”
    From where we sat at the back of the garden, the house was only just visible through the bushes and trees. In the summer, when all the leaves were full and green, I didn’t think you’d be able to see it at all. “I’m sure Piper loved the present.”
    “I think so.”
    “I don’t know much about bird songs, but I’ve always liked learning what groups of birds are called. They’re all something different,” I said. “A murder of crows, a raft of ducks, an unkindess of ravens.” I thought about Jonathan Livingston Seagull and added, “a squabble of gulls.”
    “I didn’t know those.” Fiona paused and then went back to what was really on her mind. “She’s really sick, you know.”
    “Yes.”
    “If you can’t save her, then she might die,” Fiona said, voicing my secret fear.
    I didn’t want the responsibility of saving Piper. It seemed like too much. But I couldn’t say that to Fiona, so I warned her, “They said me being a match is a long shot.”
    “I know.” She sighed. “I got tested, you know.”
    I shook my head. “I didn’t.”
    “Mom said no, I was too young. So last spring, I got on a bus and went to her doctor’s office. I told them I wanted to be tested. Of course, they said no. I was a minor and they couldn’t do any tests on me without my parents’ permission. When they said that, I started crying. I mean, really crying. You know the kind of crying that when you start it you can’t stop? That kind. It’s so frustrating to be a kid and to have everyone think you can’t understand and you can’t help. I just