have such a stupid, idiotic crush on him and I’m afraid no one will want to marry me because I don’t have any hair.
“You’ve done what legions of other girls at school wish they had the power to do.”
“What’s that?” I mumble into Nate’s cotton-covered chest.
“Make Nick leave them alone.”
Nate’s bad joke prompts a watery giggle, and I’m able to quell my hysterics. Pushing away, I wipe ineffectually at my wet face. Nate nudges my hands aside and sops up the tears with a couple of hospital tissues that are about as soft as notebook paper. I notice that the clock says it’s just after one in the afternoon.
“Isn’t your dad making you guys go to school?” It’s Thursday. At least I think it is. I’ve been here since Saturday.
“Nope. Your little brain tumor is getting us out of school for the week. Mom’s orders.” Nate leans back against the pillows of the hospital bed. Even though the bed is slightly larger, his big frame takes up most of the space so that when I lean back I have to rest partially against his chest. I remind myself that Nate is like my brother. Just a brother. Like Nick.
If only I could just convince myself of that.
----
M om and Dad kick Nate out later that afternoon to share “good news” with me.
Unfortunately I don’t understand what they’re saying. Like, I know what all the words mean individually, but I am having a hard time putting it all together. And it’s making me angry. “Stop. Just stop,” I say. Or maybe I shout it because Mom presses her lips together, a sure sign she is disappointed.
The doctor had come in earlier to tell me that they didn’t think the tumor had resulted in any brain damage and that I was still as smart as always, only that now I might see some changes in how I used the information in my head. And that I might be more emotional now because I had a reduced ability to control my feelings.
I guess that explains why I am crying all the mother loving time. I am sick of crying. I am sick of the hospital. I don’t want to go to surgery this afternoon to have a port put in so that it is more convenient for them to put drugs into my body. I don’t want to undergo several courses of radiation therapy to make sure all my tumor cells are killed off.
I guess the good thing is that after I get the port put in, I can wear actual pajamas and not the hospital gown. And they’ll move me out of the main hospital into an adjacent facility with a big room that overlooks the city. Just like at home. Only it will still be in a hospital.
I’m missing school and gymnastics practice. Nick tried to cheer me up earlier by saying that I’d gotten too tall for gymnastics anyway. I had grown a little in the last year, and some of the maneuvers weren’t as tight. Maybe I would’ve given it up soon, but I wish that I could’ve made that decision, not have it taken away from me like my stupid hair. Or where I am going to go to school after I’m discharged.
“I can’t believe you’d make me leave school and move to Switzerland.” I glare at my mother and then look pleadingly at my dad. He’s a softie, always trying to make Mom and me happy. Living with the two of us has taken a lot out of him, he likes to say. I love my mom, but we grate on each other’s nerves. Dad says it’s because we’re too much alike. I don’t think we’re anything alike. For instance, I would not make my daughter leave her only friends and take her to another country to get better.
No wonder they kicked Nate out. He would not be in favor of me moving away. Nick is my best friend, and Nate, well, I couldn’t leave him either. He is going away to college soon, and I want to enjoy him being around while I can—even if he is a jerk to me most of the time. I’ll miss Aunt Grace and Uncle Noah too.
“The transition would be easier for you. We’ll hire a tutor to go with us so you won’t get behind, and when we can, we’ll travel around Europe. It will be
“You’ve done what legions of other girls at school wish they had the power to do.”
“What’s that?” I mumble into Nate’s cotton-covered chest.
“Make Nick leave them alone.”
Nate’s bad joke prompts a watery giggle, and I’m able to quell my hysterics. Pushing away, I wipe ineffectually at my wet face. Nate nudges my hands aside and sops up the tears with a couple of hospital tissues that are about as soft as notebook paper. I notice that the clock says it’s just after one in the afternoon.
“Isn’t your dad making you guys go to school?” It’s Thursday. At least I think it is. I’ve been here since Saturday.
“Nope. Your little brain tumor is getting us out of school for the week. Mom’s orders.” Nate leans back against the pillows of the hospital bed. Even though the bed is slightly larger, his big frame takes up most of the space so that when I lean back I have to rest partially against his chest. I remind myself that Nate is like my brother. Just a brother. Like Nick.
If only I could just convince myself of that.
----
M om and Dad kick Nate out later that afternoon to share “good news” with me.
Unfortunately I don’t understand what they’re saying. Like, I know what all the words mean individually, but I am having a hard time putting it all together. And it’s making me angry. “Stop. Just stop,” I say. Or maybe I shout it because Mom presses her lips together, a sure sign she is disappointed.
The doctor had come in earlier to tell me that they didn’t think the tumor had resulted in any brain damage and that I was still as smart as always, only that now I might see some changes in how I used the information in my head. And that I might be more emotional now because I had a reduced ability to control my feelings.
I guess that explains why I am crying all the mother loving time. I am sick of crying. I am sick of the hospital. I don’t want to go to surgery this afternoon to have a port put in so that it is more convenient for them to put drugs into my body. I don’t want to undergo several courses of radiation therapy to make sure all my tumor cells are killed off.
I guess the good thing is that after I get the port put in, I can wear actual pajamas and not the hospital gown. And they’ll move me out of the main hospital into an adjacent facility with a big room that overlooks the city. Just like at home. Only it will still be in a hospital.
I’m missing school and gymnastics practice. Nick tried to cheer me up earlier by saying that I’d gotten too tall for gymnastics anyway. I had grown a little in the last year, and some of the maneuvers weren’t as tight. Maybe I would’ve given it up soon, but I wish that I could’ve made that decision, not have it taken away from me like my stupid hair. Or where I am going to go to school after I’m discharged.
“I can’t believe you’d make me leave school and move to Switzerland.” I glare at my mother and then look pleadingly at my dad. He’s a softie, always trying to make Mom and me happy. Living with the two of us has taken a lot out of him, he likes to say. I love my mom, but we grate on each other’s nerves. Dad says it’s because we’re too much alike. I don’t think we’re anything alike. For instance, I would not make my daughter leave her only friends and take her to another country to get better.
No wonder they kicked Nate out. He would not be in favor of me moving away. Nick is my best friend, and Nate, well, I couldn’t leave him either. He is going away to college soon, and I want to enjoy him being around while I can—even if he is a jerk to me most of the time. I’ll miss Aunt Grace and Uncle Noah too.
“The transition would be easier for you. We’ll hire a tutor to go with us so you won’t get behind, and when we can, we’ll travel around Europe. It will be
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