Sandburg's Kate White And Kelly Malecki: Someone You Should Know

ORLAND PARK, IL — If you see Kate White and Kelly Malecki together, you’d think they were sisters. They slither into the same spot on the couch, legs entwined, checking out the other's bracelets. They make plans to hang out after practice. The teens even bicker about where to stop to eat after a shopping trip at Orland Square Mall: Chick-fil-A or Panera?

But Kate, 18, and Kelly, 16, have different mothers, different fathers and live on opposite sides of Carl Sandburg High School’s attendance zone. Even so, the relationship they formed the past two years is as indelible as the DNA blood sisters share.

The two met on Kelly’s first day as a freshman at Sandburg. Kate, a junior, was volunteering to welcome newcomers who are so often intimidated when they first walk into a new school on a big campus — that jump from eighth grade to high school can be terrifying. But Kelly, undaunted, walked right up to Kate and introduced herself: “Hi! I’m Kelly and I’m a freshman.”
Kate giggled. She was smitten.

From there, the teens were inseparable. They were always going to be in the other’s orbit. Kate volunteers to mentor students in special-education classes through programs at Sandburg and the school’s Special Games. Kelly is one of those students. But there was never a guarantee that they would be friends.

When Kelly was four, she was diagnosed with medullablastoma, the most common malignant childhood tumor, with three areas of cancer on her brain and five on her spine. Her mother, Ellen, can recall every detail down to the time -- 6:30 p.m. -- when she knew something was wrong, really wrong with her daughter. Kelly had a bought of stomach trouble and saw the doctor for it. But as Ellen looked out the window that night watching her husband and Kelly play soccer, her gut told her there was more to that bug. Call it mother’s intuition. But she was right, and days later, on March 20, Ellen learned that what was wrong with Kelly was worse than she could have imagined.

Today, Kelly’s condition is stable. Surgeries and six years of chemotherapy treatments left scars on her scalp and hampered her ability to grow hair. At seven, Kelly had to learn to walk again. She is physically blind in her left eye and wears two hearing aids. She reads at a third-grade level. Many kids who move into their teen years worry about how their peers will accept them, but for Kelly, who spent so much time isolated in hospitals and small, special-education classrooms and who was afraid to come out from under the hood or blanket that covered her head, making friends was hard. It was so hard that the year she sent her application to the Make-A-Wish Foundation she asked for one thing: A friend.

Then Kate came along.

Kate is the girl many teens dream of becoming in their senior year: Poised, graceful, a member of many clubs while maintaining a stellar GPA. Headed to Vanderbilt University in Tennessee in the fall to study neuroscience. Still, she carves out time in her teenage life to work with Kelly and kids like her.

But to Kate, it’s not work. Her mother, Amy, is a teacher’s aid for children with special needs, so Kate grew up knowing that abilities of all kinds are normal and natural. Kate’s other friends at Sandburg, however, don’t always understand and have asked her how she can befriend someone so different. Something with Kate and Kelly just clicked.

“It’s just like pure and stress free and with our friendship, there is no drama,” Kate tells them. “We’re just best friends.”

She shares her warmth with everyone she can. For example, she coached Kelly’s sister Molly, 14, when she went through a phase of resenting growing up in a “different” family. It’s ok to be different, Kate reminded her. You are special in your own way.

Her friendship taught Kelly the same kinds of things. By taking her out to coffee, introducing her to other freshmen, and coaxing her to go to her first high school dance, Kate showed Kelly she was beautiful and valuable, too.

One afternoon, as the pair sat on Kelly’s leather couch, wedged into the same corner, they pulled out the photo-booth strip of photos from Sandburg’s Turnabout dance. Kate went with her group of friends, and right there, in the middle, was Kelly.

“You know, if it wasn’t for Kate, she never would have attended a high school dance,” Ellen, Kelly’s mother, said. “Kate pulled her out of her shell.”

She watched as the conversation turned from the loud music at the dance to Vanderbilt and what the girls wanted to be after they graduated high school. Maybe I’ll work in a pet store, Kelly said. Or maybe you could work with little kids, Kate suggested. You’re good with kids. Kelly looked up at her and pondered the thought. “Yeah, I never thought of that,” she said.

Ellen turned away, eyes soft.

“Kate,” she said, “is going to change the world.”