“I’m sorry I hurt you today.” I squeezed him tight and felt the same relief in his arms, his back muscles tensing as he pulled me closer. He reached down and lifted my chin, gently backing me up against the wall, as he held me in place with kisses and caresses.
It was hours before Ryan left—not until Mom came in from gardening and invited him to stay for dinner. He’d learned his lesson last time and politely declined.
I went upstairs to fix my wig and to check my phone. I still hadn’t heard from Lauren. I called and left her another voice mail, then called Gyver.
I could tell he was pissed from his “hello,” but I couldn’t tell how angry until he followed up with, “Are you done playing games with Ryan? Should I set up Monopoly for us now?”
“Don’t be a jerk. I owed him a chance to explain.”
“Oh. You owed him? Got it. Bye, Mia.”
I redialed him, but got his voicemail. Left my apology after the beep. And I was left with a silent phone that didn’t ring again that night, no matter how many texts I sent to Lauren.
Chapter 31
I wanted to strategize my Big Reveal, but didn’t stress too much about absentee Lauren. I figured she was busy cleaning up from Friday’s party, hung over from Saturday, had dropped her phone in the hot tub again, or was totally busted and grounded. Before bed I texted her to meet me in the foyer Monday before school.
She did, with her face mottled with angry pink splotches that clashed with her hair.
But I didn’t notice this right away, not until after she responded to my, “I was thinking I’d tell them after practice. We could all go to Iggy’s. A public place would help control Ally’s hysterics, right?”
“Whatever.” The word was razor sharp and slashed through my good mood.
“What the hell, Lauren?”
“No!” She pointed a finger at me. “What the hell, Mia? Where were you Friday night?”
“After the game? I was tired, I went home.” I was beginning to guess how Ryan had felt yesterday in my kitchen; I had no clue where this anger was coming from.
“Not too tired to hang out with Ryan,” she accused.
“Please, he stayed for less than an hour. What’s this about? Your party?”
“How many boring afternoons have I spent”—she lowered her voice to a hushed snarl—“at the hospital? Nice of you to let me know you weren’t coming. Seems you had time to tell Hil you wouldn’t be there, but you couldn’t find two seconds to tell me.” Lauren wasn’t usually aggressive, but she kept stepping closer, one finger pointed at me and the rest of her hand clamped in a fist.
I stepped backward, but didn’t back down. “I didn’t know it was an RSVP event.”
“It’s always great fun when you throw someone a Welcome Back party and she doesn’t bother coming.” Her hand was shaking. She hid it by reaching up and twirling a curl around her finger.
“What?” I swallowed and felt my aggravation soften to guilt. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s called ‘a surprise.’”
“Laur, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I would’ve told you.” I wanted to give her a hug or coax her fingers out of her hair. She was tugging so hard it looked like she was cutting off circulation, and she was making it frizz.
“Whatever. There’s nothing you can do about it now.” One last twirl and she wrenched her hand free, turned around, and stomped off to class.
“Laur. Lauren. Wait!” But she didn’t wait and the late bell rang. I hurried to my locker, grabbed my books, and attempted to slam the door, but a notebook was in the way. My locker mirror slipped out and clattered on the floor. I kicked the notebook in and the door shut. Shoved the mirror inside the cover of a textbook, too overwhelmed and late to reopen my lock. Then I scrambled to French class feeling like I’d had a serving of battery acid and betrayal for breakfast.
During calc I tried to get Gyver’s attention, finally poking him with my eraser when he refused to notice my waving pencil or the note I dropped on his desk. He gave me an expressionless nod, then turned back to his problem set with the note unread. Frowning, I opened my calc book and my mirror was lying there. It hadn’t broken—it was safety plastic, not glass—but the bottom corner was chipped. What punishment did that earn me: seven days of bad luck, seven minutes?
Gyver would be annoyed if he knew my thoughts, and I wished he’d scold me … because to do so, he’d have to acknowledge me. I spent the rest of the period trying to catch his eye and apologize, but he didn’t look at me once. When he left class without a good-bye, I glanced from his empty desk to the discarded note to my chipped mirror and felt lost.
Lauren hadn’t gotten over it by lunch. And I’d apologized. Three times.
“Stop sulking, Lauren, it makes you look five. She said she was sorry, what do you want, blood?” Hil sipped her Diet Coke and rolled her eyes. She was hyper today, even a little bubbly, like a caffeinated Ally clone. It made me nervous.
Even if I hadn’t decided the Big Reveal needed to wait until after Lauren removed the big stick from her butt, I’d still be uneasy around a Hil who greeted me with a hug and babbled, “Your hair looks cute. What’d you do different? We missed you at Lauren’s and Bill’s this weekend—you’re turning into quite the nerdling homebody. I was telling Ryan on Saturday that we may need to do an intervention.” She slipped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into another hug.
Ally choked on a bite of apple and studied the table. I selfconsciously touched my wig. Lauren gasped and practically stood up. “Are you kidding me, Hil? I don’t believe you! Like you can talk—have you told your best friend what you tried to do with her boyfriend Saturday night?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” My answer was automatic, but then I paused and processed the words, pulling away from Hil to ask, “Wait. What?”
Ally packed her lunch away and looked like she wanted to crawl under the table. Lauren’s face was blotchy-mad again. Hil’s was blank. The same blank it’d been right after her parents’ divorce and Keith’s breakup. “Nothing happened. Don’t worry. Lauren’s just pissy and trying to make us fight too.”
“Nothing happened, but only because he rejected your ass,” Lauren spat back.
I didn’t need to hear any more. I shoved my uneaten lunch in my bag and stood, crossing the cafeteria with my head held high but legs that felt like they might collapse.
“Hey, you.” Ryan gave me a questioning look when I sat down next to him.
“Hil,” I muttered.
He nodded and opened his mouth to say something else, but looked at Chris and changed his mind. He bumped my knee with his. “We’ll talk later.”
I gave him a sincere smile, then turned to the rest of the table with a cheerleading grin. “You guys don’t mind if I crash your table, right?”
Lauren apologized via text while I was in English and I replied with my own Really sorry. Neither of us mentioned leukemia, Hil, or telling.
But we weren’t fine yet. I had to go to her locker at the end of the day for a hug. In all of our previous fights, she’d waited at mine.
The hug was brief, like she might break me or catch cancer.
“Ryan told me about your hair. It looks good. Can’t tell.” These words were an afterthought, as she walked away, throwing a “See you at practice” back in my direction.
I had no intention of attending practice, but she didn’t wait long enough to hear my answer. Things were in flux. I’d known that all my absences, lies, and limitations would change our group dynamics, but I’d never stopped to consider how. My spot in the high school pyramid was slipping. I was losing traction and Lauren was gaining it. I should care—I should be storming down to the gym and confronting Hil, getting an apology from her and a pledge to throw me another party from Lauren. Resetting the power balance and reestablishing my place. But I didn’t.
I was supposed to be in the treatment stage when I’d feel my best—enough postchemo that I wasn’t vomiting. But I didn’t feel fine. I
wanted each day to end so I could go back to bed.
Someone called my cell three times in a row Wednesday night. I knew it was Hil without looking—this was her MO: calling repeatedly because she couldn’t be bothered with leaving messages and waiting for callbacks. I shut my phone off.
The house line rang. Mom came in my room holding it. “Hil’s on the phone—she says your cell’s off. Did you forget to charge it, kitten?” I was sitting at my desk, pretending to do homework but really fighting waves of dizzying fatigue.
I pointed to Jinx in my lap, and Mom walked the phone over. “It was good talking to you, Hil. I don’t see you anymore! You’ll have to schedule a girls’ night soon. Here’s Mia.”
Mom glowed at me and left. I waited until the door shut, then asked, “What?”
Hillary responded with an equally cheery, “Are you going to be pissed forever or are you going to get over this?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know the answer. “I just can’t believe you’d do that to me.”
“I was testing him for you.” Her voice was sweet as bubble bath and just as slippery.
“You told Ryan you’d sleep with him! That wasn’t for my benefit. Don’t lie to me—I’m not an idiot.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to erase the tension and sweat that was beading there.
Her voice lost its silky persuasion. “Fine! I was an idiot. Is that what you want to hear? I’m the world’s biggest idiot and it was a stupid, shitty thing to do. But I didn’t say I’d sleep with him—just kiss him. Not that that’s okay, it’s not—but I would never—you know Lauren’s lying.” Her voice was panic spiked with apology. “I was drunk—so drunk Chris and I actually … I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say.”
“Tell me why.”
“I don’t even really remember. To see if I could? Because he was there. Because he was sad you weren’t and wouldn’t shut up about it. Because he’s more important to you than we are. Because, apparently, I suck as a friend and it makes sense that you would choose him over me.”
“Ryan’s not more important than you guys! How can you say that?” But as I spoke, I realized how much time I gave him and how little I had left for her. It wasn’t that he was a higher priority; it was that I didn’t have to lie to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around, but really, Ryan hasn’t replaced you. He couldn’t.”
“I miss you. And I made that mistake with Keith—I always chose him over you guys. Then he just left me. I feel like you’re leaving too,” confessed Hil. “And I’m so sorry. Please come back to practice. Don’t let my being an idiot stop you from cheering at the East-Green game.”
“We’ll see.” I was too tired to commit to anything. I left my desk and lay down on top of my comforter. I could put on pajamas and brush my teeth later.
“C’mon. It’s East versus Green! After we’ll all go to the party. I need some Mia time.” Her voice became wistful. “Senior year has sucked so far. I wish we could go back to last year, you know?”
“Yeah.” I had that wish on speed dial.
“Are we okay? There’s not many people I care about hurting, but you’re one of them.”
I paused to gather my thoughts. They seemed so scattered and incoherent.
“Mia, I need us to be okay. I need to fix this. Date Ryan. Please date him if it will make you happy. But don’t cut me out; I can’t lose you too.”
“We’re okay.” I surrendered, too drained to fight or feel relieved that we weren’t fighting anymore. My whole body felt heavy and achy.
“You’ll be at practice tomorrow and stop avoiding me and sit with us at lunch?”
“I’ll be there,” I conceded as sweat ran into my exhausted eyes, blurring the room. I dropped the phone and settled into an uneasy sleep, praying I would feel more like myself by morning.
Chapter 32
“You know what I thought would be a great idea?” Mom asked as I entered the kitchen.
“Coffee?” I joked. Half joked. I felt like I’d need caffeine, a nap, and a body transplant to make it through the day.
“What? No! That’s full of chemicals and toxins. You shouldn’t mix caffeine with your medications—” She’d gone from chipper to panicked in two seconds.
“I’m kidding. Orange juice is perfect.” I poured myself a glass. “What’s your good idea?”
She gave a quick laugh. “Of course you were joking—you know better. I was thinking we should have a celebratory dinner.”
“What are we celebrating?” I took a large sip of juice to swallow the pills she’d neatly arranged on a tea saucer.
“Your first round of consolidation chemo is over, and everything’s going so well. I’ll admit, Saturday was rough—it was hard to see you so upset. But you worked through it and everything is fine. I’m so glad you still get to be a normal teen.”
I painted on a smile as I bit my lip to trap the swears I was mentally screaming. Normal teen? When? When I was lying to my friends, napping in the nurses’ room, or dressing to avoid exposing my port? Or was it the wig, pallor, and nausea that made me normal?
Just thinking this made the room spin.
“Nothing elaborate—I don’t want you overdoing it. Just me, Dad, you, and Ryan. You can invite Gyver if you want too.”
“Ryan and Gyver don’t really mix.”
“That’s too bad.” Her sincerity was undermined by how quickly she moved on. “I’ll make dinner reservations at Chez Bleu and we’ll all dress up and go.”
“When?”
“How about tonight? Tomorrow you’re busy with East versus Green, and Saturday you’re going to be recovering from East versus Green.”
I looked at Mom’s eager face. This was important to her, and the sooner we did the dinner the better, because if I gave her a week she’d rent a banquet hall and book a DJ. “Sounds fun. You can ask Ryan when he comes to pick me up.”
“Do you have something to wear? If not, we can delay a few days and go shopping.” Her eyes brightened at the prospect.
“No, I’ve got the perfect dress. I’m going to get in the shower.”
“I’m excited about this—are you?” She hugged me and touched the scarf I’d tied around my head. “You’ll wear your wig, of course. You only wear these things in the house, right?”
I nodded and backed out of the room.
I fell asleep in the shower—something I hadn’t realized was possible until I woke up sliding down the tile wall and had to make a slippery grab at the shower curtain. It tore free of two of the metal rings. I was too dizzy and disoriented to care. I wrapped up in a towel and lay on my bed, dripping and sudsy. It was eleven minutes before I could summon the energy to sit up and towel off, another two before my head cleared enough to stand and lurch to the dresser for clothing.
When I came downstairs, Ryan was in the kitchen eating oatmeal and nodding at Mom as she blathered. “Maybe there’ll be a pianist at Chez Bleu. I love a good pianist, don’t you?”
Ryan struggled to keep a straight face as he swallowed a scoop of oatmeal. “Absolutely.”
I rolled my eyes behind Mom’s back. His smile widened and she turned to see the cause. “Oh, kitten, Ryan’s free tonight! I already called Chez Bleu and left a message to call me as soon as they open. I’ve got to pick up your father’s blue suit from the cleaners and maybe buy him a new tie. I wonder if I’ll have time to get a mani/pedi over lunch. How are your nails? Do you want me to wait and we can go together after school?”
“No, go at lunch. I may want a nap after practice.” I meant it as a hint not to go overboard, to alert her that I wasn’t feeling a hundred percent, but she barreled on.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll call Christine’s Bakery and reserve a cake or pie. What types of pie do you like, Ryan? Mia, eat something.”
I scooped oatmeal into a bowl, adding liberal amounts of raisins and honey, but even doctored up, it wasn’t appealing. My stomach clamped around the first bites I forced down.
Mom prattled, Ryan smiled politely while
poking me under the table, I pushed oatmeal around my bowl. Until I looked at the clock. “Ryan, we’re going to be late.”
Just as I was about to write her off as frivolous, Mom surprised me with her parting comments. “We need this, kitten. A reason to be excited, I mean. You’ve been gloomy and out of sorts this week—it’s affecting us all. Could you get excited about this and perk up?”
My eyes widened at her observations, but years of practice summoned a smile to my lips. “Of course, Mom. You’re right, this is a great idea—I can’t wait!”
“Great. Now have a good day at school, both of you.” She touched the tip of my nose with a finger. “Tonight’s going to be perfect. Wait and see.”
Climbing out of the car made the school parking lot tilt. I clung to Ryan as my vision spun.
He held me and laughed. “I’m usually the one convincing you it’s worth it to be late. Not that I’m complaining …”
My forehead was beaded in sweat and my stomach churned, but I felt steadier. I let go of his arm and took my book bag from his hand. “I just stood up too fast.”
“Sure,” he teased, his hand curling around my waist, thumb threading through a belt loop on my jeans. “We both know you find me irresistible.”
I smiled and started up the steps. “Completely irresistible. Can you blame me?”
“Not at all.” He opened the school door, then paused when he saw who was waiting on the other side. He’d taken a forget-about-it attitude with Hil, but they were awkward. “Oh, hey.”
She nodded to him and turned to me. “Can I have a minute? I brought you a mocha.”
Her question and caffeinated bribe conveyed her guilt; I needed my actions to speak as loudly. I unhooked Ryan’s thumb from my waistband.
“Sure. I’ll see you later, Ryan.” I wobbled as I stepped away from his supportive arm and took the cup. “Thanks. I missed breakfast, so perfect timing.”
Send Me a Sign Page 17
