by C. J. Hart
“I’ve got to leave for school,” I said.
“Do you want a ride?” Mom asked.
“No thanks.” I tried to keep my voice light. “I’d rather walk.”
Slinging my backpack on my shoulder, I headed out the door. I barely noticed the walk to school. I was moving to Canada, where I knew no one. What kind of people were my grandparents? Would I like them? Would they like me?
My life was about to do a complete one-eighty, and I felt helplessly unprepared.
***
“Did you ask her?” Kim bounced up next to my locker before first period. When I stared blankly at her, she added in an exasperated tone, “About coming to my uncle’s place?”
Instead of answering, I burst into tears. Kim’s arm went around my shoulder. “Oh my God, Meara. What is it?”
“It’s my mom,” I sobbed. “Her cancer’s back.”
“How awful!” Kim hugged me.
“It’s terminal.” I closed my eyes as I said it.
“What?”
“She’s dying, Kim.” I bit my lip to hold back more tears. “She’s dying.” My voice shook as I repeated the words, bitter on my tongue.
Although Kim was a good five inches shorter than I was, she wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“That’s not all,” I whispered. Maybe if I said it quiet enough…it wouldn’t happen. “We’re moving.”
“Where?” Kim looked bewildered. “When?”
“In a couple of weeks, I think,” I said. “Mom wants us to move to Canada, so I can get to know my grandparents.”
“You’re moving to Canada for the summer?”
I met her eyes and felt miserable. “Not just for the summer, Kim. We’re not coming back.”
“What? No! What about our big plans for senior year?” Kim waved her hands in the air, and her curls bounced. The tears rolled down my face. I didn’t know what to say. Kim slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m such an ass! As if I should be worried about me with all you’re dealing with. What can I do?”
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I won’t know anyone there. I’ll be miserable.”
“I’ll come visit you,” Kim said. “And, we’re going to Europe, right?”
“Sure.” I smiled weakly. Kim raised one blond eyebrow, her signature sign of skepticism, but then she linked her arm through mine and chatted about our European vacation plans to distract me. It worked. I listened to her, nodded occasionally, and felt myself relax. Everything was going to be okay. It had to be.
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