"Director Swanson, Director James—are you really giving the kidney to someone else?"
"Penelope has been waiting for three years."
"These three years with kidney failure... she's suffered so much..."
"I've watched her waste away from over a hundred and thirty pounds to barely seventy. I'm afraid she won't hold on much longer!"
Dr. Derek Chavez's voice cracked with disbelief and heartbreak.
I gripped the bank card in my hand so hard the edges bit into my palm. My ears rang. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"Dr. Chavez, we're Penelope's parents. We're also doctors. You think we don't understand how dangerous kidney failure is?"
"Just do as we say."
"Call Penelope and tell her the hospital made a clerical error. Tell her to wait a little longer."
My father's voice drifted out—calm, tinged with impatience.
I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper.
So this is it.
The parents who raised me crying poverty were the hospital's director and department head all along.
My head buzzed. I reached for the door handle—
But then I heard my mother's voice. Haughty. Detached.
"Dr. Chavez, Penelope isn't like her sister—the one who jumped off that building."