Mars

by Rose, Jasmine

  That’s exactly how I feel right now.

  I feel like the world is smiling at me and saying: here, you deserve love.

  He pulls away first, and smiles so big I feel like his face might explode. I think he’s never looked more like a kid.

  “Amaryllis!” He exclaims, putting emphasis on the syllables, making it sound like I’ve done something horrible.

  “What?” I say, blushing.

  “If you wanted to be the one to have the power on the first kiss, you should have just said so!”

  I don’t know what to say.

  He looks so happy.

  At that moment, my dad bursts in the room, not even looking at us. He sits on the couch and turns up the volume of the match and glares at us. The players in the game seem totally concentrated and I cannot think.

  “I told you to call me, Amy! Shame on you.”

  I smile. “Sorry, Dad.”

  The others sit and soon the room is filled with held breaths and fallen hopes. Jenna is the only one who notices something.

  She nudges me and wiggles her eyebrows. “Did, uh, anything happen while we were gone?” she whispers, but obviously loud enough for Logan to hear.

  “She kissed me,” he says, almost accusingly.

  Jenna beams. “About time.” She sits back in her seat.

  Logan takes my hand and holds it tight. I feel like the world can hear my heart beating.

  A few minutes later, the match ends. “IT’S OVER!” screams Dad, standing up. Jenna and Ryan stand up too, doing their own versions of happy dancing. Logan’s family just boo them during the whole thing and looks bummed. Logan is just observing everyone, not having a reaction.

  “Whaaaat? You paralyzed with sadness?” Dad tells him.

  “Oh, please. I have good sportsmanship,” says Logan. “Congrats.” He holds out his hand to shake. My dad shakes his hand so hard I feel like Logan’s whole body goes through an earthquake.

  “Dad? Careful,” I warn him. Dad takes his hand away and mumbles an apology, putting his hand on Logan’s shoulder.

  My dad is doing a horrible dance we used to do. He looks at me and tears me away from Logan.

  “Dance!” he says, twisting his hips. I do the same, laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

  “Shake; shake your body ‘cause USA won!”

  Jenna and Ryan join in, and so does Logan’s whole family. We’re all dancing like mentally disabled freaks, but it’s the most fun I’ve ever had in forever. Logan is too tired to actually stand up and dance, but he just shakes his body on the bed.

  “Aren’t you bummed they lost? You lost $5, man,” says Ryan to Logan.

  Logan looks at me and says, “Nah, I won the best prize today anyway.”

  21

  Half a heart

  No new messages.

  I check my phone over and over, feeling anxiety spreading in my body. Logan and his mom were supposed to go see the doctor today and determine whether the chemo was working or not.

  Logan’s chemo is bi-weekly and on the following days, I go to see him and do homework and all that.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I am startled. Sneaking a look at the history teacher, I see that Mr. Yethia looks preoccupied with correcting his other class’s exams.

  The handsome kid: We need 2 talk.

  This isn’t the response I am expecting.

  I knock on Logan’s room three times, before the door opens. He ushers for me to go in, his head pointed down. He leaves the door open and sits on the edge of his bed. I sit on the chair in front of his desk.

  “So?”

  He rubs his hand on his forehead and sighs.

  “The chemo isn’t working.”

  I gasp. “But why isn’t it working? It should work! It should!”

  “How am I supposed to know? Do I look like a fuckin’ doctor to you?” He says, looking up at me.

  Staying silent, I avert my eyes to my hands instead.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry, Amaryllis. I really am.”

  “Can’t chemo be tried again with different substances?”

  I did my research.

  “I—I don’t know. I think so, but I don’t know.”

  I keep looking at him, feeling an overwhelming sense of sadness come over me. I feel like he isn’t just talking about the chemo.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  He takes a deep breath and says, “I don’t know if I want to continue chemo.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m a lost cause,” he says. “And if I die, or, when I die, I don’t want to have wasted my last months at the hospital.”

  “Don’t say that. You’re not going to die.”

  He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Don’t you understand? I want to spend my last months with you and Dad and Mom and Ella and everyone. Not bald and surrounded by nurses.”

  He took his beanie off. I had to restrain myself from gasping because his hair. It was nearly completely gone.

  “Look at me, Amaryllis! I want my hair back! I want to see you without being self-conscious all the time. I want you to make jokes about me caring too much about my hair and how it looks. I want to go to prom with you and smile, because I know that I’ve lived long enough to do that and because I’ll die knowing that I danced with you and I saw you looking like a princess.”

  “But I don’t want you to die!” I exclaim loudly, standing up. “I prefer seeing you bald than dead.”

  “You think I want to die? You think I chose this?”

  “No! But you have to try to live! For your mom, your dad and your sister! For me, Logan!”

  He shakes his head at me. “The doctor said I have a 30% chance or less for the chemo to work! I am dying, Amaryllis!” He puts the beanie back on.

  “God, Logan! Take the fucking chance!” I am shouting now, but I don’t care.

  “Haven’t you been listening to me? I want to live without needles in me! I want to live the most of my life! I don’t want to step foot in any hospital ever again!” He is yelling too, though we are close to each other.

  I am breathing hard and shaking, tears falling now. “I don’t want to lose someone I love again!”

  I feel like a bomb of silence has exploded in the room. I look away from Logan and try to concentrate on something. He grabs my arms and forces me to look at him.

  “You love me?”

  “Obviously. And now you’re just going to ruin everything and every chance of you loving me back because you want to kill yourself by not doing chemo and I just—” I get cut off by a pair of lips softly touching mine.

  Kissing him back, I close my eyes and let myself get absorbed into the kiss. He is holding my face in his hands.

  I pull away first. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to die.”

  “Neither do I,” he says, smiling in a way a person would after losing someone and hearing a joke. “But I don’t want to die in a hospital bed. I want to enjoy every second of my life. Especially with the girl who loves me.”

  “Do you, uh, love me too or?" I shuffle my feet. "Because, you know, I could just go now. Things will be awkward.”

  “I don’t love you, because I love my sister and my parents. What I feel for you is different. It’s something so profound that my heart feels it’ll fall out of its chest if you ever get hurt,” he smiles at me. “I’m completely, totally in love with you, Amaryllis.”

  22

  Cliché much?

  I hand Logan a bowl of popcorn and plop myself on the couch beside him. Jenna and Ryan are snuggling on the other end of Logan’s dark red couch.

  “Everyone ready?” I say, finger on the button with the little play sign on it.

  Jenna and Ryan mumble a “Yes.”

  “HELL YEAH!” shouts Logan, pumping a fist in the air.

  “Boy, pipe down,” I say, as the beginning music starts.

  He flashes me a small smile and averts his attention to the TV. We are all watching The Notebook together. Coincidentally
, none of us has ever watched it and we figured a movie night would do no harm.

  At the scene where Noah is flirting with Allie and she promises him a date, Logan stretches his arm wide and fakes the biggest yawn I’ve ever heard. His arm settles around my shoulder and even though I’m not looking at him, I can see him grinning.

  “Did you just use a very cliché move on me to put your arm around me?”

  He nods.

  “Well, at least let me get comfortable!” I say softly, getting closer to him and putting my head on his chest.

  He is the softest person in the world.

  “Amaryllis, you don’t know how happy I am that you’re cracking your little shell open and flirting with me lately.”

  “I’m not flirting. I’m just plain old throwing myself at you.”

  “Really? Wasn’t that my role before?”

  “Oh yeah, but that was before I got addicted to your lips.”

  Holy cow, I just said that.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay, Amaryllis, your addiction to my lips is nothing. Fine.”

  After a moment of silence, he says, “Amaryllis?”

  “Shh, I’m trying to watch.”

  “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Good, I wouldn’t be a bird without you. We shall be birds together.”

  We continue to watch the movie in silence, Jenna or me making a comment about how we feel about a certain scene from time to time. We arrive at the scene of the dance and when older Allie pushes Noah away, I can’t help myself from starting to cry. Jenna is sniffling too.

  “Are you crying?” says Logan, looking at me.

  “Jenna! You’re such a girl!” exclaims Ryan, looking down on his girlfriend.

  Jenna hits his chest. “Oh, because usually, I have a ding along down there. Shut up, Ryan.”

  Logan starts to laugh loudly and points at Ryan. I laugh as well, because the flush on Ryan’s cheeks is hilarious.

  “You guys made us laugh at a sad part! You ruined the moment!” I huffed, through snickers.

  “Too bad, you look better when you laugh,” says Logan.

  I look at him and laugh in a pitchy high voice that made it sound as if a cat was dying.

  “Even now?” I say.

  “Not that much, but you still look beautiful even when you sound like a walrus.”

  “Get a room!” says Jenna, nudging my foot with hers.

  “We should, right?” answers Logan.

  Oh?

  “Let’s finish the movie,” I say.

  Both girls in the room are bawling their eyes out at the ending. Logan sniffles and I look up at him in shock.

  “You’re crying?”

  “No, I am not,” he says, with tear streaks on his rosy cheeks.

  “It’s sad, admit you were crying!”

  He bent his head lower and mumbled in my hair, “Would it undermine my masculinity?”

  “No,” I gulp. “In fact, boys are cute when they cry.”

  “Then I’m adorable,” he announces, putting his chin on the top of my head.

  The credits are rolling now and we are sitting in silence.

  “Do you have a bucket list?” says Jenna out of the blue.

  Logan replies, “Yep.”

  “Can I see it?” I ask. “We should accomplish everything you want before— I mean as soon as possible.”

  Before you die.

  “Sure, let me go and get it,” says Logan, standing up.

  As soon as he leaves, Ryan calls my name.

  “How long does he have?” he asks.

  “Nine months,” I say, almost inaudibly.

  Blinking the tears away, I straighten myself up when Logan arrives again, a paper in his hand. He gives it to me.

  “I want you to be the one to read it,” he says.

  “Okay.”

  I, Logan Thomas Masterson, want to do all of these 15 wishes before I die.

  1. Fall in Love

  2. Go to Paris

  3. Kiss a girl on top of the Eiffel tower

  4. Go paintballing

  5. Go swimming with dolphins

  6. Save a life

  7. Go on a road trip around the USA

  8. Go to a concert!

  9. Find the girl of my dreams

  10. Graduate from high school

  11. Do a color run

  12. Fly in a hot air balloon

  13. Go on a romantic picnic on top of a Waterfall

  14. Learn another language

  15. Kiss someone at New Year’s Eve when the clock strikes

  I share looks with Ryan and Jenna and we are all silently agreeing and for the first time, I feel like I’m able to help him through the cancer. I turn to Logan and smile.

  “I, Amaryllis Grace Wolfe, promise you that all of these wishes will be done.”

  His face lights up. “I love you so much.”

  I kiss him and feel an overwhelming sense of relief come over me.

  “Hey? We’re still here?” says Jenna or Ryan but I don’t care.

  He pulls away. “First wish, check. Oh, and the ninth one too.”

  23

  Map leads to you

  “Amy! Amy? Please, wake up! For God’s sake, wake up!” Someone, I recognize now as Dad, shakes me. He looks nervous and very worried. He is in his pajamas, keys in hand.

  Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s 2 am.

  “What’s wrong?” I say, knowing that his reason for waking me up is probably worry-worthy.

  “Logan, h-he’s not doing good. His mom called you, but I picked up and she told me Logan’s been saying your name so I’m driving you there right now.”

  I stand up, feeling my heart beat louder and louder by the second. Its thumps resound in my whole body.

  “Let’s go,” I say. “Now.”

  “Oh God, oh God, where is he?” I whimper, finding Logan’s parents, but they’re in front of the emergency room.

  “Amaryllis, c’mere,” says Ella, who is sobbing.

  “He’s not—is he?”

  “No,” she says. I take her in my arms; she continues crying.

  I collapse as well, feeling tears of relief rushing down my cheeks. He isn’t dead. Logan isn’t dead. He isn’t dead.

  “What happened?” I say shakily.

  “He couldn’t breathe and he fainted.”

  I put a hand over my mouth and try to breathe. The thought of him struggling, going through a hard time because of a horrible tumor in his lung, makes me want to punch a wall and then cry beside it.

  The doctor comes out of the room, taking his gloves out. He gives everyone a small, sad smile.

  “He’s going to be okay, for now. It was just a seizure.”

  “What else is wrong?” asks Dad, who has a talent of knowing when people are lying.

  “We think the tumor in his lung is growing. If he sticks with his decision to let go of chemo, the amount of months left for him varies between 4 to 5 months, not 9 anymore.”

  Nononono.

  Logan can’t die.

  “Dad?”

  He turns to me and I can’t help but wrap my arms around him. I feel my heart breaking with every tear I let fall. I don’t want Logan to die. I need him.

  “I don’t want him to die,” I say.

  Dad just rubs my back and says words that I can’t bring myself to comprehend. I pull away and swallow the saliva accumulating in my mouth.

  “The bucket list,” I say.

  “What?” asks Jane, her cheeks wet with tears, too.

  “His b-bucket list. We have to do everything on that list before he dies.”

  What first comes to mind is the concert, I remember Jenna complaining about missing the Coldplay concert. All I have to do is figure out where they’re playing next.