I could see my memories on the surface of the water, rippling with the wind or when an autumn leaf gave up its hold on an oak tree and spiraled down to drift on the lake. Nights of giggles and smiles and dances and kisses. Sleepovers at Ally’s house, where she and I tiptoed downstairs so we could surprise Hil and Lauren with banana pancakes in bed. So many hours of Hil’s hairbrush dance routines, Lauren’s homemade facials and crazy beauty regimens, Ally’s mom’s brownies as we studied and watched musicals. Why hadn’t I appreciated these things when I was healthy? Why had I hidden away from them all fall?
I wouldn’t have a second chance. I cried all the time, yet I couldn’t right now. Maybe I’d used all my tears. And, really, what was I giving up at this point? There wasn’t anything left of the giggling girl I used to be. I’d killed Mia Moore the first time I’d decided to hide my illness.
I wasn’t going to beat leukemia; I was going to die. I’d been dying all along—it had just taken me this long to realize it. I expected the knowledge to burn, but I felt frozen. Defeated. I didn’t care. No, I did care—but caring wouldn’t make a difference.
I laughed; the bitterness in it ricocheted off the empty landscape. My car continued to chirp for my attention.
Blinking, I took deep breaths, retraced my steps, started the car, and drove home. I went into the house, not bothering to bring in my school bag from the backseat. I wouldn’t be doing homework; it wasn’t important anymore.
Chapter 40
My life had a time limit. It was becoming an obsession. Would my funeral be well attended? Would my name echo in the hallways and inspire tears from the classmates I was busy alienating? Would the yearbook be dedicated to the girl who hadn’t survived senior year?
I twined my fingers more tightly with Ryan’s, trying to cling to the here, the now, the present. And when it was just us, it was easy to be distracted by his hands and lips—thank God the kissing ban had been lifted. To almost forget I was a living dead girl. But right now I wasn’t going to think about anything medical.
I flipped his hand over, pulled loose my fingers, and began to trace them across the lines of his palm. “Does that tickle?”
“A little. You’ve been in a good mood lately.”
We were sitting on my bed; it was the Monday after my psychic shake-up. I hadn’t told him. Hadn’t told anyone. I hadn’t slept much and hadn’t been able to overcome the feeling I was running a sprint while others faced a marathon. But at least I was back in the race. After the numbness of the hospital, I finally felt things again. I’d reclaimed what remained of my life and began to make decisions about how to spend it.
“I just decided it was time to do some things I want. Right now, I want you.” I pulled him back on the pillows with me. One thing I’d decided: I wasn’t going to die a virgin.
“You’re feeling okay? You’re up for it?” Ryan asked in quick words as I reached for his belt. His breath was hot against my neck as I nodded and unfastened the buckle. “And your parents?”
“At a party for my mom’s company. They won’t be home till late.” They rarely let me out of their sight, and I wasn’t going to waste this chance. But he was moving slowly, feathering kisses along my neck. I pulled my sweater over my head. “Do you have …?”
“Yeah, of course.” He removed the condom from his wallet and tucked it half in the front pocket of my jeans while unbuttoning them. Mirroring my grin, he pulled my lips back to his. I slid my hands over the warm skin of his back beneath the blue-and-yellow stripes of his rugby shirt. I wanted to bottle the feel of this moment and label it “life.”
Ryan’s hands had just traveled from my face to the clasp of my bra when Jinx decided to live up to her name. She jumped from the desk to the bed.
We rolled apart, laughing. “I didn’t even realize the cat was in here,” Ryan said.
“Me either.” I scooped her up. “I’ll be right back—I’m going to open a can of food to keep her preoccupied—ninety seconds.”
He smiled enticingly from my pillow, face flushed, hair disheveled. “One, two, three …”
I resisted the urge to shove the cat in the hall and crash back against Ryan. My bare skin prickled with goose bumps, but Ryan would warm me up soon enough. I put Jinx down in the kitchen, humming as I grabbed cat food out of the cabinet. She did her best to trip me, twining through my legs as I carried the can to the electric opener.
The motor whirred, the can spun, I turned to grab Jinx’s bowl. And screamed. The front door was opening.
I dropped the can. It landed on my toe and I yelped as wet chunks sprayed the floor and lower cabinets.
“Mia?” “Mi?” Both boys said my name simultaneously. Ryan from where he was tearing down the stairs in a panic, buttoning his jeans as he ran. Gyver from the kitchen floor; he’d knelt to take the sharp-edged can away from Jinx and dump the remaining contents in her bowl.
Ryan reached me, arms outstretched. “What’s wrong, baby? You okay?” My heart was still in my throat, blocking explanation. He turned from me with wide eyes, which darkened when he saw Gyver. Ryan stepped in front of me and tugged off his shirt.