He grinned at me and nodded. This was my second full day back, so to him, I was the new kid. I looked away immediately, but my cheeks fired up again. My face felt like a kiln. He was incredibly cute.
“Don’t forget to turn in your permission slips for the field trip,” Ms. Kerry said.
Natalie giggled from the back row. Ms. Kerry walked over and lifted Natalie’s cell phone from underneath her paper. The screen was lit up with an incoming text. Candy and Natalie both glanced over at the new guy and blushed.
“Billy, the girls in class are wondering if you have a girlfriend yet,” Ms. Kerry said.
The class froze, waiting for his response. I tried not to stare. Hot guys were an alien species to me.
“I’m currently accepting applications,” he said, and the rest of the class started laughing. He looked right at me when he said it. I buried myself back in my test while Ms. Kerry got everyone under control.
A few minutes later, I stole a quick peek to check on the spider, but it was gone.
Suddenly, Candy squealed. Jumping out of her seat, she pointed at the floor. Everyone saw the spider. Matt, a football player who was shaped like a giant meat loaf with ankles, stood up and used his sneaker to grind it into a smudge.
I made a sad noise, a little choking sound, but no one noticed.
“I hate spiders,” he said, and sat back down. “And I’m not afraid to smash things.” He glared at Billy. Billy probably didn’t know yet that Matt had had a crush on Candy since the fifth grade. Candy enjoyed the attention but not him, if that makes sense. Attention was like money to her. She wanted all that she could get.
The bell rang, and everyone shuffled their papers and books into their bags for the next class.
“Oh, Sofia, I am so sorry,” Ms. Kerry called over the commotion. The halls were now swarming with kids. Last week she had insisted on giving me a five-minute head start, but I didn’t want or need the special treatment. I had tried to tell her I didn’t need it, but she’d just given me a big smile and promised me that it wasn’t a problem at all, really. She was glad to do it for me. Ugh. “This is not about you” was what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t, because she was only trying to help. The harder everyone tried to make my life easier, the worse I felt.
Everything was supposed to get back to normal, although I did have a couple of new teachers this term. I’d always been in advanced classes, but when I got my diagnosis in October, I had dropped back to on-level classes, which made keeping up with my classwork easier. School should have been easier too, if school was only about learning facts and figures. But it’s not. Middle school is about learning your label, locating your pack, and avoiding humiliation. Why didn’t teachers acknowledge that? School was like the Eagle Cam that had run a live camera feed of an eagle’s nest last summer. One of the little babies had been in danger of falling out of the nest, and everyone saw it but none of the scientists helped it. The baby bird fell and died and people watching over the Internet were furious. It’s not okay to just let it fall, they said, and the scientists argued that it was wrong to interfere. Nature had to run her course, like Mother Nature was a sweet old lady who could be trusted.
For the record, Mother Nature is a total thug. Teachers should at least admit that school is a dangerous social experiment, not a serene learning environment.
I braced myself to face the hormonal hive out there, wishing I had time to write a goodbye note to Mom. Even if I made it through the crush of humanity, the toxic cloud of body spray might disorient me, and I’d wander the school for days. I’d be like the class hamster they found two years after it escaped from the science lab, living off a forgotten bag of Skittles in the school library with a crazed look in its eyes.
Alexis was waiting for me in the hall. I tried to move past and pretend I didn’t see her.
“Hey,” she said. “Want me to walk with you?”
To avoid her, I walked right into the path of a sixth grader zigzagging through the crowd. The sixth graders had a separate hall, but there was a shortcut through the seventh-grade hall that led straight to the gym. He was probably racing to dress for gym before any bullies walked into the locker room.
The collision knocked my book bag off my shoulder, sending my papers flying out all over the hall.
People trampled over them, dragging papers underfoot in every direction. “Oh, come on!” I snapped.
Alexis froze, as if she knew it was her fault. And it was. She assumed we could be best friends again just because my mom finally let me come back. She wasn’t seeing the situation clearly.
Then Billy appeared, rescuing my papers one by one. I was so surprised that I didn’t speak or move. My Language Arts essay fluttered through the air and landed in front of Matt’s locker. Matt sauntered over to it, unaware that he was now standing on my essay. Billy grabbed him by the shoulder and nudged him off the paper. “Watch where you’re standing,” Billy said.
Matt lowered his head like he was going to headbutt Billy. “Touch me again and you’ll be dead meat!” Matt replied.
Billy grabbed the paper, then stood up and placed his hand back on Matt’s shoulder with a sad look on his face. “All meat is dead. I thought you knew.”
Matt shoved Billy’s hand off, then stomped away.
“Come back!” Billy called after him. “You shouldn’t be alone right now!”
He walked over to me and held out my paper. I hesitated before reaching to take it. Then Billy changed his mind and held the paper up to look for something.
“Sofia,” he said. “With an ‘f,’ not a ‘ph.’ ” He lowered the paper and grinned at me. “I like that name. And I liked your answer on that science test. I wish I had written it.”
I was rendered mute by the sheer force of his hotness plus this bizarre circumstance. I mean, he was talking to me. Willingly. It wasn’t like a teacher had assigned us to be lab partners.
My hand fluttered up to touch the bandana on my head. He took a breath like he was about to ask me something.
“Sofia, hi.” The voice calling out behind us was like a needle snapping off in my vein. I turned to see Candy walk up to us, her eyes never leaving Billy’s face. She didn’t really want to talk to me, of course. I was a human placeholder, taking up space until others had something interesting to say.
“Hello, Candy,” I sighed.
Candy was an unfortunate name for such a sour girl. Maybe her parents had been confused when they’d first seen her as a baby, pink and soft. But all babies look like that, including rats and vultures.
She gave Billy her brightest smile, the one reserved for when she was running for class office. “You know each other?” she gushed. “That’s great. I’ve been so busy organizing the school dance I haven’t had a chance to catch up with Sofia.” She didn’t even look at me when she said my name.
Candy’s friends circled around us. Predators hunted in packs.
“I’m the student council president,” she said to Billy, “but I’m sure you knew that already.”
Billy extended his hand and shook hers. “It’s an honor to know an elected official.”
The Winter Gala was the Saturday after next, but how much work could it be to hang crepe paper in the gym and ask the PTA to donate snacks? Stale cookies do not a gala make.
Besides, the dance was already doomed. It had originally been scheduled for January 29, the day the infamous Snowpocalypse hit the city, trapping kids taking school buses on the road and stranding people overnight at stores and offices. The teachers weren’t happy at all about giving up a Saturday evening to chaperone us, even if the dance would end at eight p.m., but I guess Mr. Reeves wasn’t willing to schedule it any sooner and this was the only good date. Anyway, lots of people were complaining about the change. School functions were usually held during the week, but this had been an unusual year. For all of us.
Change makes people hostile. I don’t know why.
The bell was going to ring any minute. I mentally mapped out th
e quickest route to my next class. I hated being late and walking in alone. Moving with the herd offered protection from people who stared.
Candy’s manicured talons grasped her perfect midnight-black hair and swept it into place. Billy’s eyes darted side to side. He was looking for an exit route too. He caught my eye and I nodded slightly to the left, indicating where I was going. My stomach rumbled. I had just accomplished something extraordinary. I had made contact with the hot guy, tuned in to his wavelength. We were communicating. It made me a little dizzy.
Candy’s smile stayed plastered on. I could tell she was trying to decide if he was mocking her. But that wouldn’t make sense, because Candy was, to be fair, completely gorgeous. No one humiliated the pretty people.
“So, Sofia,” Candy said, turning to me with teeth bared in a full-wattage smile, “I was planning my wardrobe for the week and a crazy idea popped into my head. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before.”
I raised my eyebrows. Candy had never said hello to me in the halls before today, and suddenly she was acting like we were friends.
“We need to talk this week, Sofia. I think you’re going to love this.”
Her best friend, Natalie, interrupted. “A group of us are going to get pedicures after school. Want to come?”
Candy glared at Natalie. “Sorry about that,” she said.
My prosthesis had toenails that could be painted, but there was no way I was going to say that in front of Billy. He could see that something was wrong with me, but I didn’t want to give him the whole picture yet. We had only just met. It would be like trying to hang a tire swing from a sapling. Too much too soon. Besides, I’m sure he had seen the Welcome Back, Sofia banner and someone would connect the dots for him.
Natalie huffed in her own defense. “Why is that a bad thing to say? Plus, Sofia, yours would be half off!” She grinned at me, thrilled to have just thought of this.
Mother Nature should let us submit names for natural selection.
Billy frowned, obviously confused, and stared at me.
It made sense. No one had talked to him about me while I was gone, because no one talked to me when I was here. Alexis was probably the only person who missed me, and she wasn’t the type to gossip.
“Wait. Why would yours be half off?” Billy asked. No one moved. Candy had picked the worst possible moment to start being nice to me. “Nice” was going to ruin my life.
Mr. Reeves walked around the corner. He frowned when he saw our group standing there. “Save it for after school.”
Candy and her friends scattered, but Billy stayed where he was. Did he think I would stick around and explain? Not a chance. I walked away without a word.
“Wait!” he called, but that only made me walk faster. “You never answered the question! I’m so confused. Why would yours be half off?”
All around me, people were rushing to class, and the sounds of the lockers slamming made my head throb. The doors swung and snapped shut like rows of hungry metal jaws. The bell rang, a shrill and piercing alarm, but there was no waking up from this nightmare. When would I learn that?
On Tuesday, October 8, of last year, a month into seventh grade, I fell during a cross-country training run. Which wasn’t unusual, but the pain afterward was. My left leg had been bothering me for weeks, but I assumed it was from training so much. I loved the long training runs because there was no pressure to win. Alexis and I could run side by side, our feet finding the same steady rhythm, and then our breathing too, until I was certain that even our hearts were beating in time. We plodded through the wooded trails behind the school, the world becoming ours in a way no one but a runner could understand. School drifted from our thoughts as we sailed through waving branches and down the winding path.
Autumn in the South is a long, gorgeous goodbye, so I didn’t want to miss any of it. Instead, I popped ibuprofen every night, willing the pain to go away. I loved how the birds and butterflies swooped carelessly close as we ran, distracted by their preparations. Most of them migrated in the fall as the flowers wilted and curled brown and then the leaves above burst into orange and red flames, like Mother Nature was cremating what remained of the year. The colors, the noise, the rush of wings overhead…all leading to the long gray silence of winter.
I wanted to see every moment, and a stupid bum leg was not going to stop me.
So I popped some painkillers and ignored it…until that run.
After I fell, I couldn’t stand back up. The pain was unbearable, “disproportionate,” the paramedic said, as if my problem were mathematical. In a way it was, because tumors are caused by cells that have a fatal error and spend all their energy multiplying the mistake. Their miscalculation wove its way through my bone with ferocious enthusiasm. A simple X-ray at the ER clinic showed the presence of a shadowy mass. Nearly two weeks later, we had the results of the biopsy: primary bone cancer. The good news was that the doctors didn’t think it had spread. The bad news was that the tumor had my nerves and blood vessels in a bear hug. Removing it would be tricky, even if everything went well.
It didn’t.
I was supposed to have three rounds of chemo before surgery to shrink the tumor, but I kept getting all kinds of infections. The biopsy might have caused one of them, but no one really knew. Every round of chemo took nearly three weeks. Finally, the doctors canceled the last round because they worried I wouldn’t survive it. Everything that happened after that came so quickly it was like hitting the fast-forward button.
On December 7, I turned thirteen.
I celebrated my thirteenth birthday by having my leg amputated.
There was a certain irony to that.
Germs were a constant threat. It was cold and flu season, and the news was full of stories about strange and lethal viruses floating around. Alexis tried to visit me in the hospital at first, but she had a cough and the nurses sent her home. Mom was freaked out and didn’t want me to have any more visitors until I was absolutely safe. She assumed that after my surgery, I’d be healthy enough to see Alexis.
But I didn’t want Alexis to see me like that, ghostly pale with tubes sticking out of me. I was always dozing off in the middle of a sentence. I was also incredibly skinny, and I wanted to put on weight before Alexis saw me. People think recovery is a simple process that moves in a straight line, but it’s more like trying to build a house of cards with a deck that is bent and torn in weird places. It’s frustrating and complicated, and I didn’t want Alexis to see how weak I was. Just staying awake to watch a whole episode of something on TV took effort.
I had always wanted to be just like Alexis, strong and brave. I was in awe of her. I didn’t know why she had chosen me as her best friend last year at the beginning of sixth grade. She just ran with me one day at practice, before she even knew my name. We were getting to know each other. And then, before our first official race, I heard her crying in a bathroom stall in the locker room, so I crawled under the door because she refused to open it. “My sister is sick again” was all she would say. We were only track buddies, not best friends yet, so I wasn’t sure how hard to push her to talk.
She shook her head, like her sister disgusted her, and then she stared at me for a long time. “You have toilet paper on your forehead,” she finally said.
I pulled it off and felt my cheeks get hot from embarrassment, but then Alexis doubled over in laughter. I laughed too, and she stood up and hugged me. From that point on, I knew we were best friends and not just running buddies, because if you crawl under a bathroom stall to talk to someone and they hug you for it, that’s pretty special.
After that we ran together every chance we got, because we didn’t have any classes together that year and I could never come over after school to hang out because our moms worked and we rode different buses. Alexis liked that I wasn’t on social media very much, because she said that meant I wasn’t a drama queen, constantly comparing myself to everyone. It actually meant we couldn’t afford a computer or sma
rtphone, but that was just one way that Alexis could take something bad about me and decide it was one of my best features.
Then summer came.
We both signed up for summer cross-country practice with the high school girls. The program was free, and the older girls got community service credit. We ran twice a week. After practice, usually around lunchtime, Alexis and I would get a ride back to one or the other’s house and hang out until our moms got home from work. But those hours together were sometimes harder than running.
It was just us, and we weren’t running side by side. We had to face each other when we talked, and that was suddenly weird. We started to talk about the serious things, like why I didn’t have a dad and how much I wished I could cry at night about it but I couldn’t find the tears and so what was wrong with me? Then one day we talked about Alexis’s frustration at being so thin. Formless, she called it, as if she were more raw material than finished work.
“I wish I was as skinny as you.” That’s what I actually said. We were sitting on the couch eating popcorn. Movie credits were rolling on the TV screen. Alexis’s face turned dark with anger.
“Don’t you ever say that again!”
I swallowed, too shocked to say anything else. Alexis’s chin trembled and she cleared her throat a couple of times.
“Remember when I told you my sister was sick?” She wasn’t looking at me, but I nodded anyway.
“That’s why she’s not here this summer. She’s spending it at a treatment facility for anorexics. All she ever wanted to be was skinny. It’s like she wants to evaporate. She thinks that if her body doesn’t take up any space, people will like her more.” Alexis kicked the carpet with her foot in disgust. “I hate being skinny, and you know what? I think she hates me for it too. Maybe my whole family does.”
We talked about it a few more times over the summer. Alexis was terrified she would lose her sister, and her whole family, to an enemy she couldn’t see, one that had its own peculiar laws and punishments. Alexis didn’t want to be thin. She was terrified that somehow she would fall prey to the same disease. But she didn’t want to give up running, because it made her feel so good, and she rarely ate junk food, except ice cream. Even then, she just liked it…she didn’t love it. She couldn’t help being skinny. It wasn’t her choice. She was just made that way. She had the body her sister wanted, and she was worried that her sister hated her for it.
The Last Monster Page 3
