Chapter 4

I knew Mom was just trying to keep me from finding out how strong that little beast inside me really was.

But honestly, I didn't care. My star-collecting notebook was already almost filled up.

I had ninety-eight stars squeezed onto those pages, all crowded together, making the whole notebook shine bright as daylight.

Only two more to go.

Home was almost within reach.

The doctors started coming around more and more, always huddled around my bed, saying things I couldn't begin to understand.

Stuff like "failure," "critical point," and "last resort," they'd say.

That night, I pretended to be asleep, but I could hear the doctor talking quietly to my parents just outside my room.

His voice was so soft, barely above a whisper. "This option… barely has a ten percent chance of working, and the process will be excruciatingly painful.

"Considering how your child is now, my advice is… let her finish her journey peacefully, with dignity," he said.

Mom broke down in tears, right then and there.

Dad's reply was husky, his voice thick. "We… we see."

They thought I was asleep, but under the covers, my little fists were clenched so tight my knuckles almost hurt.

'Peacefully? Not a chance!

'I'm the brave little angel fighting my way home—not some coward who gives up.

'A fight this fierce? That means I'll earn the biggest, shiniest star ever!' I told myself, determination blazing inside me.

That night, Mom and Dad were arguing in the hallway outside my hospital room.

I'd never heard them raise their voices like that before.

"How much longer are you going to keep lying to her?" Dad's voice was thick with pain. "Wouldn't it be better to let her go peacefully?

"Why make her suffer through all that again? Just look at her—she's nothing but skin and bones!"

"Peacefully?" Mom's voice cut through, sharp and desperate. "How? Just bring her home and watch her fade away, little by little? This game's all she's got. It's the only thing that's kept her fighting through every round of chemo.

"If we give up now, then what was the point of everything she's been through? Every strand of hair she lost, every drop of blood—what does it all mean?"

Their voices grew quieter until all that was left was the sound of stifled crying.

I lay there, not moving a muscle.

It clicked for me—Dad was afraid of me being in pain, while Mom was terrified I'd lose.

The next morning, Mom and Dad had red eyes, neither of them saying a word.

The doctor walked in, holding a clipboard, his voice low. "Have you made up your minds?" he asked.

Dad opened his mouth, tried to speak, but no words came out.

Mom kept her head down, one tear after another falling soundlessly onto the floor.

Just then, I propped myself up with every bit of strength I had left, just a little, from the mattress.

"I'll do it," I said.

My voice came out small and shaky, but it cut through the silence—every single person heard me.

Mom and Dad whipped around, staring at me, their faces stricken with shock.

I looked right at them, trying my hardest to smile, exposing the gap where my two teeth used to be.

"That has to be... the biggest, shiniest star there is, right?" I said, barely able to squeeze out the words.

"The ninety-ninth star. I have to get it. I can't... I just can't miss getting back home because of one last star," I said, voice shaking.

Unable to hold back any longer, Mom pulled me into a desperate hug, bursting into loud, wrenching sobs.

The day I was heading into the final level, the nurse helped me into clean clothes and settled me onto a rolling bed.

Mom and Dad walked alongside, gripping my hands so tightly their fingers were ice-cold.

I wasn't scared at all. Honestly, I was buzzing with excitement.

Just before we reached the big iron gate, I stopped them in their tracks.

"Dad, Mom," I called softly.

Carefully, I dug out a tiny cloth bag wrapped in a handkerchief from under my pillow.

Inside were the stash of fruit candies I'd been quietly saving up—the little rewards the nurse sometimes slipped me when nobody was looking.

Shiny red, green, and yellow ones—seven in all.

This was my whole secret stash.

I pushed the tiny bag into Mom's hand, using every bit of strength I had left.

"These are all my snacks. Please don't be sad, okay? Once I'm home... every day, I'll throw marshmallows down to you from the clouds," I whispered, trying my best to smile.

The big iron gate slowly slid shut in front of me, shutting out the sound of Mom and Dad crying their hearts out.

I lay back on the bed, gazing up at the massive, perfectly round light overhead, letting myself wonder if maybe—just maybe—it could be a star meant for me.

It was dazzlingly bright, gleaming down like the biggest, most beautiful star in the whole sky.