At lunch I saw Ryan waiting at my locker before he saw me. He looked anxious, exhausted, then relieved—all of this before his dimples appeared. He asked, “How are you?”
“Hanging in. Can I have a hug?” I wanted to stay like that, with my cheek against his chest and his arms tight and warm around me. Just a few more seconds, minutes, and I’d have the courage to go to the cafeteria and face the girls.
“Do a guy a favor—it’s lunchtime and I’d rather not feel sick before I eat the school pizza.” I heard Chris’s voice and footsteps as he walked the five lockers between us, but I didn’t pick up my head and look.
I felt Ryan shift as he responded with a hand gesture, but I didn’t look then either.
Chris laughed. Ryan squeezed me tighter for a beat and I knew that was my cue.
Lunchtime.
Showtime.
Showdown.
Neither of us encouraged Chris’s stupid jokes on the walk to lunch, but that had never stopped him from having a conversation with himself. Today, however, even he was quiet as we approached the cheerleading table. Everyone stopped eating and regarded us silently.
Chris coughed. “Hey, Hil, look who I found.”
“I wish you hadn’t,” she said icily, and resumed dismantling a bunch of grapes. Ally dropped her bagel. She was the only one who returned my “Hey, guys,” with a quiet, guilty “Hi, Mia,” before Hil shot her a look that made her drop her bagel again.
I kissed Ryan on the cheek and told him I’d see him later. I wanted him to stay and sit beside me and hold my hand, but he and Chris didn’t sit at our table on a normal day, and I wanted to pretend this was normal.
It was lunchtime, where the main event was everyone watching Hil ignore me; Ally and Lauren following her lead.
This wasn’t where or how I’d planned it, but after my third lame question about cheerleading was met with silence, I couldn’t take the tension anymore. “Can we talk?”
“No,” Hil said and stood.
I turned to Ally, who was too busy chewing her lip and watching Hil to notice. Lauren wouldn’t meet my eye, which made no sense. She knew, so how could she possibly feel betrayed or left out or whatever was fueling Hil’s pissy mood?
I tried for faux sternness, but only managed desperate. “Hillary, sit down and listen to me. I know you’re mad I didn’t call, but I really had a good excuse.”
She whirled, her burgundy fingernail pointed a few inches from my nose. “I don’t want more excuses. I don’t even care anymore—why should I? It’s been eleven days since you promised to call. I’m obviously not important to you.” Her hand dropped back to her side, clenched in a fist as she began to walk away.
This stupid secret seemed the only card left to play, and even more than I hated telling, I hated telling her this way. “Of course I care. Hil, wait!”
She didn’t. Kept widening the gap between us. Two lunch tables. Three. Tables full of students watching us with open fascination and hope for a scandal.
“I have cancer!” I yelled the words across a five-table chasm and hurried to where she’d finally stopped, two-thirds of the way across a room that was lined with gawkers. Her back was still to me, so I took a deep breath and plunged on. “Leukemia.”
With shaky fingers I reached up and removed my wig. It was like the world had a mute button. Some of the students shifted uncomfortably and others leaned forward—the rustling of lunch wrappers and a whispered echo of leukemia were the only sounds.
“Hil? Did you hear me?”
She turned, revealing a face of wet eyes and trembling lips.
And hands in fists, as she crossed her arms in an angry self-hug. “I heard.”
The cafeteria resounded with shh and buzzed with the giddy energy of eavesdroppers. “I also heard it from Lauren a week ago. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I kept waiting for my turn—God knows I gave you plenty of opportunities. How could you not tell me?”
“Hil, it wasn’t like that …” I felt more people join us, but my words weren’t for Ally or Lauren or Chris. Ryan put a hand on my shoulder, but I shook him off.
“Wasn’t like what?” she asked. “Like you told Gyver, Ryan, and Lauren? God, Lauren! But you didn’t tell me?”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Shut up, Lauren,” snapped Hil, at the same time as I said, “Stay out of this.”
Lauren retreated to stand next to Ally, who looked at my bald head and began to cry, quiet at first, but with the great gulping breaths that heralded sobs.
I didn’t know what to say. The cafeteria was noisy now, filled with unconcealed gossip: I would’ve bet it was anorexia. My money was on drugs. Can you believe he’s dating her? Why?
Hil was clenching and unclenching her fists and my heart was beating much too fast. My throat tightened, so even if I’d known what to say, I couldn’t have spoken.
Hil broke our staring contest with a voice that quavered. “I’m supposed to be your best friend. Best friend! And you hide something like this from me for months?”