Dillon was shaking as he stuffed his iPod and iPad into his overnight bag. It was already full of clothes, waiting for the time it would be needed.

Could this really be it? he thought.

He suddenly realised that he may have had his last session in the light box. If all went well, he would never have to sit in it again.

Is this my future?

And yet the idea of the transplant operation weighed heavily on him. As did the possibility of being incompatible with the donor.

‘Hurry up!’ Mum shouted.

The next few minutes were utterly frantic. Despite the fact that his parents had insisted on preparing a plan in advance (including a list, maps, where to park at the airport, etc.), they still seemed to be running around like headless chooks.

Finally, they headed out the door. In theory, Dillon was never supposed to be more than half an hour from an airport, in case the call came. But Hope Valley was about forty minutes’ drive away in daytime traffic. In the middle of the night, however, half an hour should be easy.

Dillon sat in the back of the car, while his parents got into the front.

Dad paused for a moment, holding the key in the ignition. Dillon heard him take a long, deep breath. He let it out slowly.

‘Ready?’ Dad asked so quietly it was almost a whisper.

‘I think so.’ Mum’s voice was a little timid and shaky.

‘You bet!’ answered Dillon with enthusiasm.

His parents nodded in unison and Dad turned the key.

Dillon smiled as the engine started.

Best day ever, thought Dillon.