Page 149

I hate the hospital. In the pediatric oncology wing, they try to brighten the walls with murals, which I appreciate, but being here is a reminder that I’m dying. I’ve been running from the truth for months, and now I have to accept it.

It’s been three weeks so far. I had an infection, and even though I fought it off, it drained me. My doctors ran more tests and confirmed that the cancer spread farther, and it’s progressed more rapidly than they originally predicted. The infection didn’t help either. I knew it was bad, but for some reason I figured if I kept moving, I could delay the inevitable. I was wrong.

My secret is out now. Everyone knows. My friends from school and extended family have been visiting me. I’ve had a lot of questions about why I kept my sickness a secret, but to be honest, I’m glad I did. It gave me a sense of control.

My parents take turns staying with me every night. Annie and Daniel have both been skipping school. Annie watches movies with me, curled up beside me in my hospital bed, and I have to beg Daniel to go home every other day. He usuallysits in the chair next to me, but every time without fail he drifts off to sleep. He’ll rest his head on my bed, near my lap, and I stroke his hair. Every time I do, it reminds me of the day at Laura’s house. It’s hard to imagine there was a time when I didn’t know him.

This time he opens his eyes when I touch him. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I say.

He sits up. “How do you feel today?”

“Better now that you’re here,” I say. I appreciate him being here. I know it’s not easy for him. He tries to act normal, but I can tell he’s hurting. Every day I see him, his face is more worn, and his smile is more and more forced.

It’s rare that we’re alone. My family is here almost twenty-four seven. Today, Papa had to work and Mama ran home to get a change of clothes. Annie is around here somewhere, but she wandered off, probably looking for something to eat.

Daniel kisses my hand. “Do you need anything?”

I nod. “Help me walk to the window.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue. He stands up and helps move my IV and oxygen so it won’t get caught. We have to move everything with me, which is a hassle, but I hate staying in bed. I want to feel the sunshine on my skin and look at the clouds.

My hair falls into my face, and I tuck it behind my ears. It doesn’t stay put very long, and before I know it, I’m adjusting it again.

He helps me over to the chair by the window, and I sit, leaning back to take in the view. There are three little birds so small they’re practically dots flying by. I wish I could be as free as they are.

He leans on the chair. “What are you thinking about?”

I laugh softly. “I’m picturing what I’d do if I were a bird.”

“Of course you are,” he says, chuckling.

“It’s a normal thing to think about,” I say.

A smile, a real one, pulls at his lips. “So what would you do if you were a bird?”

I close my eyes. I picture soaring through the air and being able to do and see whatever I want. “I would go see all the things I’ve never seen before, and I wouldn’t land until I absolutely had to. You’d have to tie weights to my feet to get me to stay put. Otherwise I’d fly forever.”

I expect him to laugh at how absurd I sound, but instead Daniel wraps me in a hug.

The days sulk by and every time Mama visits home, she brings back more and more. She’s redecorated my hospital room with pillows and pictures from home. She brought movies and games, but I don’t have the energy for them. I sleep most days, but I like falling asleep to the sound of Mama and Annie playing cards in the corner.

There’s a knock at our door. “Hello.”

It’s Mrs. Jackman. Behind her is her husband and their new baby in a carrier. The baby is so small that the carrier almost swallows him whole.

Mama jumps up. “Oh, hello. Come in.”

Mrs. Jackman smiles. “We’re going home today.”

They’ve been in the NICU since she had the baby because he was so early.

Mama bends down to get a closer look. “He’s adorable.”

“His name is Leo.”

She waves at him. “Hey, Leo.”