Only the sound of my pencil endlessly rattling against my desk as my hand wouldn’t stop literally bouncing from side to side in a vain attempt to entertain myself. I titled my head and looked up at the holes in the ceiling. Even they seemed to be emptier than usual. Would anyone notice if I left? Would they miss me? They wouldn’t miss my pencil rattling against the desk that was certain. I’d have to write that damn short story eventually.
The air left my lungs and I rubbed my tired apathetic eyes. I stretched my sore and aching muscles and sat up on the edge of my bed. It would be the last time I slept in it. It was never really my bed though, it belonged to my foster family. One of my many foster families over the last five years. How many homes had I been in? At least seven that I could count right off the bat. My brain still wasn’t completely awake but I knew very well that number eight was just around the order. I only needed to get dressed, make the finishing touches to packing my bags and head over to court so lawmakers could award me to yet another group of strangers.
Nobody would adopt me. I was much too old now. I knew that this would probably be my last home because I was already seventeen and who would want me now? My own mother never wanted me to begin with.
When I really put my mind to it I could indeed write something worthwhile, but the problem was that I didn’t want to. Blah, scratch that. I crumpled up my piece of paper and shoved it in the recycle bin. I let out a deep sigh, my creativity wasn’t working. All my thoughts did were evaporate. I took another page out of my notebook and attempted to write a second story.
A lot of people regard me as just another part of the body. In fact, most people treat me this way. I’m a lung, I’m responsible for one of your most vital functions, breathing. For seventeen years I was in the left side of a girl named Jane’s chest with my partner on the right side but now I’m alone in the body of a sixteen-year-old named Britney. She had lung cancer, that’s right, at her age. Both her lungs were slowly dying from the inside out and she was hooked up to an oxygen machine 24 hours a day. Even all the machines and the pills and the steroids couldn’t sustain her forever though, she really needed some new lungs but the waiting list for a donor was long.
Inside Jane’s body I’d say that I did my job pretty well. I could send the much needed oxygen throughout her body to fuel those cells while she was running and jogging and I could hold her breath for minutes at a time underwater. My partner told me that one of Jane’s eyeballs told him that Jane became compelled to be an organ donor when she walked in to the doctor’s office to get a flu shot (sounds harmless enough huh?) and noticed a lung disease support group going on in another room. The heart told me himself that he though he was sink down all the way to the diaphragm upon hearing the eyeballs’ initial report! During that same trip to see the doctor Jane informed herself about organ donation and what she could do to help. That’s around the time she decided to give me up along with the right kidney and some blood.
It didn’t all happen at once though. Jane had to undergo a lot of tests to see if I was really functioning properly and in my right mind as the brain would say. As it turns out I was very healthy and my tissue was of a very close match to a girl named Britney waiting on her deathbed for a transplant. So a few months later I literally went under the knife. Jane was sound asleep under the bizarre effects of something the ears told me was called anesthesia. Removing me from Jane’s body was fairly easy, I said goodbye to everyone just in time for two big hands to literally scoop me out! Afterwards I was stitched to Britney’s blood vessels and airways. It sounds a lot more horrific than it actually was. I didn’t feel a thing, and from what I hear the other organs tell me, they didn’t either.
In Britney’s body I did my regular job like I always did, and for the first few days there we were all hooked up on tubes and machines to drain air, fluids and blood in order to let me fully expand. The other organs were very welcoming to me and the only thing I really miss about Jane were her ears letting me listen to Avicii all day. Gangnam Style isn’t really my thing you know? But as it turns out Britney’s body responded very well to me and there were thankfully no complications! Thanks to me and Jane’s big heart (not literally the heart) Britney is now able to do simple things such as walking up the stairs instead of taking the elevator that she couldn’t previously do. Can you believe that, couldn’t even walk up the stairs?! And during that time we were all running a marathon!
The other organs tell me that Britney became so compelled after receiving me that she signed her organ donor card too. I guess I might be getting, or losing, neighbors soon!
That was just gonna have to do and if the teacher wasn’t happy with that she’d have to deal with it because my ambition had also evaporated along with my creativity a long time ago. School did not help anyone with thinking, it fact it only made my braincells die. It made them evaporate along with everything else.