UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,51
. . . being appreciated.”
4 • Wil
Wil knows he’s opened up too much to Lev. An AWOL is supposed to open up to them, to find solace in their acceptance, not the other way around. He vows to shutter his heart a little more securely.
The next day Wil’s spooning out breakfast porridge for Lev and himself when his father calls. Ma takes the call in the study, expecting bad news, but then comes out to put it on speaker because it turns out to be the kind of news everyone should hear.
“We bagged a mountain lion a half hour out in today’s hunt,” Wil hears his father say. “Pivane is already harvesting his heart.”
Intense relief reverberates through the house. Even Lev, who met Grandfather only once, seems overjoyed.
“Wil, go now and tell your grandfather,” Ma says. “And be quick about it. For once, good news will travel faster than bad.”
Wil grabs his guitar and asks Lev to come along. He even takes Lev in the elevator rather than making him struggle down the ropes.
• • •
“You’re a stubborn man, Grandfather, but you finally got your lion heart!” Wil says, swinging his guitar around, ready to play some healing tunes even before the transplant.
“Stubbornness is a family trait,” the old man says flatly. Wil notices that his grandfather is looking at Lev, not because he’s giving Lev his attention but because he’s avoiding eye contact with Wil. It makes Wil uneasy.
“What’s wrong, Grandfather? I thought you’d be happy.”
“I would be, if the heart were mine.”
“Excuse me?”
Grandfather twitches a finger at the crowd around the other patient’s bed. Wil barely noticed them when he came in, so intent was he on giving Grandfather the news—but apparently the news had already reached him. The woman in the other bed is in her late twenties or early thirties. The family around her seems very happy in spite of her dire condition.
“The heart is to be hers,” Grandfather says. “I’ve already decided.”
Wil stands up so quickly that the chair crashes backward. “What are you saying?”
“I’m a poor risk, Chowilawu. Too old for it to make sense when there’s someone younger with a better chance of survival. Her spirit guide is the lion too.”
“It was found by your family,” Wil fiercely announces, loud enough for the woman to hear. Good. He wants them to know. “It was found by your family, which means it is meant to be yours and no one else’s.”
His grandfather’s gaze drifts again to Lev, and that makes Wil angry. “Don’t look at him. He’s not one of us.”
“All the more reason. He’ll be objective. He won’t be clouded by a family’s emotion.”
Lev takes a step backward, clearly not wanting to be a part of this any more than Wil wants him to be.
“It’s your heart” is all Lev says.
Wil is about to relax, relieved to have Lev on his side, until Grandfather says, “You see? The boy agrees with me.”
“What?” both Wil and Lev say in unison.
“It’s my heart,” Grandfather explains. “Which means I have full legal right to decide what happens to it. And I choose to gift it to the young woman over there. I will hear no further discussion.”
Fury and grief nearly overwhelm Wil. He storms out of the cardiology lodge—but there is no escaping this. Word of Grandfather’s decision reaches the rest of the family quickly. Within the hour, while Wil still stews and storms outside, ignoring Lev’s attempts to calm him, his family begins to arrive: his parents, then Uncle Pivane. He sees Grandfather’s closest friends arrive. He sees Una. They’ve all been called to give the old man their good-byes. They’ve come for the final vigil.
“Do it for him,” Ma says gently as she enters the cardiology lodge. “Please, Wil, do it.”
He waits outside until everyone has gone in, even Lev. Then he takes the long walk down the hallway toward the round room at the end. The woman in the other bed is wheeled past him, followed by her family. She is already prepped for surgery.
Inside the room his family sits on chairs and on the floor. Lev has held a chair for Wil. His grandfather’s weary eyes are fixed on him as he takes his spot. He begins to play. At first he plays healing songs, but the tempo is too fast. He’s playing them too desperately. No one stops him. Then, in time, the songs evolve into traveling threnodies: tunes meant to ease one’s passage from this world to the next.
Over the