Everything, Everything by Nicola Yoon Page B

OK.”
    She straightens the already perfectly straight stack of drawings. “You understand why I have to do the things I’m doing?” Besides firing Carla, she’s also revoked my Internet privileges and canceled my in-person architecture lesson with Mr. Waterman.
    We’ve mostly avoided talking about this all week. My lies. Carla. Olly. She took the week off from work and tended to me in Carla’s absence. She took my vitals every hour instead of every two and slumped with relief each time the results were normal.
    By day four she said we were out of the woods. We got lucky, she said.
    “What are you thinking?” she asks.
    “I miss Carla.”
    “I do, too, but I’d be a bad mother if I let her stay. Do you understand? She put your life in danger.”
    “She was my friend,” I say quietly.
    The anger that I’d been expecting from her all week finally sparks.
    “But she wasn’t just your friend. She was your nurse. She was supposed to keep you safe. She wasn’t supposed to endanger your life or introduce you to teenage boys who are going to break your heart. Friends don’t give you false hope.”
    I must look as stricken as I feel, because she suddenly stops and wipes her palms down the front of her thighs. “Oh, baby girl. I’m so sorry.”
    And that’s when it really hits me and all at once. Carla’s really gone. She won’t be here tomorrow when my mom leaves for work. Instead, it will be someone new. Carla’s gone, and it’s my fault. And Olly’s gone, too. I won’t ever get a chance at kiss number two. I gasp against the pain of the thought, against the end of something barely even begun.
    I’m sure my mom will eventually allow me access to the Internet and we’ll be able to IM again, but it won’t be enough. If I’m honest with myself, I’ll admit that it was never going to be enough.
    I’ll never get to the end of all the ways I want to be with him.
    She presses her hand against her own heart. I know we’re feeling the same pain.
    “Tell me about him,” she says.
    I’ve wanted to tell her about him for so long, but now I’m not sure where to begin. My heart is so full of him. So, I begin at the beginning. I tell her about seeing him for the first time, about the way he moves—light and fluid and certain. I tell her about his ocean eyes and callused fingers. I tell her how he’s less cynical than he thinks he is. About his awful dad, about his dubious wardrobe choices.
    I tell her that he thinks I’m funny and smart and beautiful in that order, and that the order matters. All the things I’ve wanted to say for weeks. She listens and holds my hand and cries along with me.
    “He sounds wonderful. I see why you think so.”
    “He is.”
    “I’m sorry that you’re sick.”
    “It’s not your fault.”
    “I know, but I wish that I could give you more than this.”
    “Can I have my Internet privileges back?” I have to try.
    She shakes her head. “Ask me for something else, honey.”
    “Please, Mom.”
    “It’s better this way. I don’t want you to have a broken heart.”
    “Love can’t kill me,” I say, parroting Carla’s words.
    “That’s not true,” she says. “Whoever told you that?”

NURSE EVIL
    MY NEW NURSE is an unsmiling despot with a nursing degree. Her name is Janet Pritchert. “You may call me Nurse Janet,” she says. Her voice is unnaturally high, like an alarm.
    She emphasizes the word Nurse so that I understand that simply calling her Janet will not do. Her handshake is too firm, as if she’s more used to crushing things than caring for them.
    It’s possible that my view of her is biased.
    All I see when I look at her is how much she’s not Carla. She’s thin where Carla was stout. Her speech is not peppered with Spanish words. She has no accent at all. Compared with Carla, she’s altogether less .
    By the afternoon I’ve decided to adjust my attitude, but that’s when the first of her notes appears stickied to my laptop.

    My mom has reinstated