Read Heart Strings for Free Online Page A

killed early this school year, and Tripp, who knew the exact date, rubbed his chest, hoping to ease the pain.
     
    *****
     
    “You can't go yet, Trippo,” a cherub-faced girl in the cardiac ward objected. “Make me another balloon animal.”
    “Could you paint triangles on my face like yours?”
    “I want to honk your nose again,” a dark-skinned boy with his two front teeth missing coaxed.
    The kids at the hospital loved honking Tripp's big blue nose. “Honk away,” he told Niger. Then taking a blue grease crayon out of his pocket, he drew triangles on Marianne's cheeks. After that, he made a pink balloon poodle for Jolanda. And he told a couple of knock-knock jokes for everyone there. A fantastic audience, they all laughed.
    “Now, time to pack up my bag of tricks.” Stuffing imaginary things into an imaginary bag, he huffed and puffed as if it was tremendously heavy, and the kids hooted. “See you tomorrow.” He waved a white-gloved-hand.
    “Stay longer,” Marcus coaxed.
    “I've already stayed long,” Tripp said, pretending to pull off Marcus’ nose. “Hey, yours isn't blue! How come?”
    Marcus chuckled, a happy kid even though he'd spent the last six months in the hospital waiting for a transplant. He was at the top of the list for a heart, but first, someone about his size and weight had to die. Seven-years-old, fifty pounds. It was sad thinking someone else had to lose their life to give these kids a second chance, and sad that it took Mark's death to restore Tripp's health. Marcus was in worse shape than he'd been, but seven-year-olds didn't get themselves killed as often as sixteen-year-old drag-racers did.
    Tripp gave him back his nose and used his grease crayon to color it blue. He totally cracked up.
    A twelve-year-old girl who'd arrived a week ago was sitting quietly in a wheelchair. She hadn't adjusted to hospital life yet, or else she felt a little too grown-up to take part in the clowning. “Yo, Rosa. Want to help me get my stuff to the elevator?”
    “Sure,” she said, and Tripp, bowing deeply, handed her his imaginary bag. “Hey,” she joked, “this is heavy.” Pretending it was hard to turn the wheels to move her chair, she panted a little.
    Chuckling, he waved and shouted good-bye to his young fans. “See you all tomorrow.”
    “It's nice of you to come here,” Rosa said when they reached the elevator. “It makes all the kids feel better.” The way she said it made him sure she didn't think of herself as a kid. A heart problem made you grow up faster, he knew that.
    “And what would make you feel better, Miss Teenager?”
    “I'm not a teen yet, but I will be in a month,” Rosa said, smiling. “Thanks for noticing.”
    “Rough being thrown in here with the little ones?”
    “Not exactly. I enjoy them; they're nice. But sometimes I wish I had someone my age to talk to. It's hard to grow up here.”
    Tripp hoped she wouldn't have to but hoped she would have the chance to grow up. “Are you in for a new ticker?” When she nodded, he smiled. “I was in your same shoes last year, and look at me now.” He stuck out a size fifteen red vinyl shoe and lifted his striped vest to show a matching heart.
    “You got one,” she said, smiling.
    “Yes, and you will too.” He kissed his big gloved finger, then planted the kiss on her forehead.
    “You think so?” Grabbing his hand, she held it tightly, like a little girl, fear evident in her big brown eyes.
    “I know so. Just hang in there.”
    “Thanks, Trippo.” She smiled like he'd guaranteed her another chance, and kissed his gloved hand.
    “Hey, girl, watch the lipstick,” he teased, jumping back.
    “You're the one wearing lipstick,” she retorted.
    He jumped back another step. “You mean it? I have lipstick on? I could have sworn I wore my gloss today.”
    She laughed aloud, the first time he'd heard her do so, then handed him his imaginary clown bag off her lap, pretending it was heavy. “Catch you later,” she