"Hey, you!" I walked into room 412 like it was my home. "Blueberry and yogurt, your favorite!" I gave him the smoothie then sat criss-crossed on the other end of his bed.

"Thanks." The oxygen mask over his mouth muffled his voice.

"Have you heard Eminem's new song yet?" I asked.

Michael shook his head no, but his eyes lit up when I said 'Eminem' who was, by far, his favorite artist ever. I pulled out my phone and played the song. For the next three hours, we attempted to learn the lyrics to Rap God, but we only managed to get the chorus and the first three lines of verse one.

A little while later, Michael's nurse came into the room which was my cue to leave. I hated to leave him alone in that boring hospital room, but I had to.

"Bye, Michael!" I bent down to hug him. A funny feeling came up in my stomach when we let go, and for a second I actually thought I liked him- like liked him. I shook the thought out of my head. I didn't like him like that. I waved bye once more and left.

“Hey, Anna, wanna hang out after school?” Joyce trailed after me down the hallway.

“Joyce,” I said. “You know I'm busy.” I gave her a look because she knows that I see Michael everyday after school.

She sighed. “I know, it's just that you see him everyday.”

“Yeah, because he's my friend. And so are you, but I see you at school everyday.” I reassured her that we would hang out sometime, just when Michael is out of the hospital which should've been in a few days. My mom's blue minivan pulled around to the front of the school. The car smelled of grease and potatoes from the leftover food trash scattered in the back seats.

A few minutes later, I was already on my way up to room 412.
"Dude, you will not believe how much homework Mrs. Mina gave us this week." I walked into the room carrying two math books in my hand. I tossed one onto his bed. He groaned at the sight of all the homework.
"Well, better get started now," he said.
I nodded and opened my math book expecting him to do the same, but instead he reached for the remote and turned the TV on to a football game.
"So this is what you meant by 'better get started now'? Started on a football game?" I tried to sound serious, but it came out sarcastic and funny.
"Yeah, what else would I mean?" He laughed which made me laugh. I noticed his sharp intake of breaths every time he talked, and his poor skin color. I knew it was because of his heart syndrome, but I couldn't help but feel bad for him; how he had to be born like that.

His eyes were glued to the screen. I didn't even understand football, but I pretended to when I was with him because that was the one sport he was passionate about. I glanced at the bedside table with the school football team's picture perched on it. Michael was the only one out of uniform; not on accident. I knew why he wasn't in the purple and white football jerseys along with the rest of the team. I knew why he always was on the benches at football games handing out water instead of playing on the field. I knew why he was always in and out of the hospital. I knew that Michael had a heart syndrome that he didn't tell much people about, except me.

He showed me the big scar on his chest on our way up the stairs to the classroom. I was five, he was six. I asked why it was there and he told me about the surgeries he had had when he was little: four heart surgeries before the age of two. I could tell he hadn't shown many people this flaw about him from how he waited till there was nobody else around. But he covered this up with confidence when he lifted his blue shirt exposing his bare chest. He told me it didn't hurt. I didn't know if it did or not, after all, he had to act brave for his girlfriend. I promised I wouldn't tell anyone whether he wanted me to or not. I carried that secret with me for eight more years.

Over the next week, we managed to listen to 7 out of 23 of Eminem's albums, eat all the strawberry jello in the cafeteria, and visit all the floors in the hospital. When the clock hit 7 and the nurse came in, I left.
“Wait, Anna, I need to talk to you.” Michael's mom followed me out into the hallway. I stopped and gave my attention to her.
She took in a deep breath as if what she was about to say was hard for her. “Well, because of Michael's heart syndrome, he has to get surgery,” she started. I didn't say anything because surgery had become a common thing in Michael's life. But she continued: “It's not just any surgery. He has to get a heart transplant.”

I still didn't say anything, but out of shock this time. Michael wouldn't have his heart anymore. Michael would have a stranger's heart.


“Please pray for us.” Her voice shook.
“Oh, Mrs. Judy. I'm so sorry.” I hugged her and she started crying. I was getting sweaty, but I let her cry and hold on to me for a moment more.
She pulled away and wiped her tears. “Don't worry, Anna. He'll be fine in no time.”
I nodded, hugged her once more, and left.

Three days passed and I hadn't seen Michael. I had nothing to keep me busy after school. I logged onto Facebook and scrolled through my endless feed. I stopped when I got to a post from Michael's mom that said that Michael was now going into surgery and that everything seemed to be going well.

Over the couple days, I kept checking Facebook for any updates on Michael. I logged on one night and saw that Michael was not okay. His transplant had gone well, but there was a problem with his brain which was damaged and swollen. The only way to fix it was to get another surgery, but he was too weak for another one. My heart started beating fast. I was worried about Michael. He was fighting for his life. I received calls and messages asking if I'd heard about Michael. I wish I hadn't.

Two more days passed. Michael wasn't getting better. Later that night, I received a call from his sister.
“Hey, girl! How are you?” she said. You could tell she had been crying, but she tried to cover it up over the phone.
“Um, hi,” I said. “How's Michael..?” I didn't want to hear the answer fearing that it would be a negative response.
She took a deep breath. “Anna... Michael is going to be with the Lord soon.”

My heart split in two.

The next morning, I got up early and went to the hospital to see Michael. I walked into room 412 for what could be the last time.
“Hey, you!” I said trying to disguise the sadness in my voice. I smiled, acting like I was fine, but it didn't last long. I looked away from his soft face. And then I fell apart. It hit me that Michael was dying. It hit me that Michael wouldn't be celebrating another birthday or Christmas. It hit me that I actually still had feelings for Michael. I had been his first and last girlfriend.

She took me to the side of the playground and told me that I needed to break up with him. I didn't see why, but I went with it because she was my best friend.
“He's weird.” she had said.
I disagreed with that statement, but I didn't say anything. And I didn't want to be the one to break his heart. Like every second grader did, I assigned her as the messenger for Michael and I. I sat on the other side of the playground and watched the whole thing from a distance. He nodded, said a few words, and nodded again. Just like that, our relationship was over.

I broke down and started crying. I hated that Michael had to see me like this. His family didn't try comforting me. We all just cried together.

“Can I have a few minutes with Michael alone, please?” They agreed and left the room.
“It's been a month, time for you to get out of this place!” I said faking a smile once Michael and I were alone.

“I don't think I will. I'm gonna die, Anna.” He looked down, ashamed to cry in front of me.
“Don't say that,” I said brushing his wavy red hair out of his eyes. “You don't know that,” I reassured him, even though we both knew it was true. “Okay, Michael,” I glanced at the door to make sure his family wasn't watching. “I'm going to do this because I really don't know when I'll see you again... if I even will.”
I took a deep breath and bent over and kissed him gently on the lips.
“Goodbye Michael.” And with those last words, I left the hospital.

Everybody stood in the cool February air. Flowers wilted against gravestones. Ladies' black skirts and dresses blew in the soft breeze. The grass was shriveled and dead. I blocked out the preacher's monotonous voice as he talked about Michael. He didn't even know him. My mother gave me a gentle push to get in line with the others so I could see Michael. His dead body. I glanced into the coffin. His red hair was parted in a way that I knew he would hate. His pale skin was covered with a black tuxedo and red tie. I didn't get why they buried dead people with nice things.

A group of men lowered his body into the ground below. Heads hung; one by one, people threw a handful of dirt on his coffin. They placed the tombstone in the dirt. I read the date on his tombstone which was too short amount of time for a person to live. 14 years.

I felt like dying. My best friend was dead, so why couldn't I join him? I wondered that if I committed suicide, would I still go to heaven?