“I’m fine. Thanks for your concern and I’m sorry about cheerleading, but I don’t need any more crap about Ryan, or being sick, or how awful I look!”
Ally flinched and Hil’s scowl intensified, but Lauren spoke first, diffusing the anger by deflecting attention. “That is so unfair! Mia looks worse than usual—no offense—and she ends up with Ryan Winters. I lose three pounds and no one even notices.” She frowned at her apple and waited for us all to compliment her, which we did.
“Do you think Bill’s brother will be at the party tonight? He’s …,” she continued.
I tuned her out and took stock of the past forty-eight hours: I’d agreed to a date but lost my spot on the squad. I’d confided in Ryan but alienated Gyver. If I were Dad, I’d create a T-chart with these facts, but what conclusions could I draw?
Chapter 24
“I hate when they have captains’ meetings,” Lauren griped while driving me home after school. “It’s like advertising: hey Lauren, you weren’t picked to be captain, so you can just head out while the important people stay. And it sucks about your spot. If I were captain, I’d fight for you.”
I didn’t care at all—but I knew I should, and before cancer I cared quite a bit.
“Want to come in and hang out until the game?” I offered instead of agreement.
In the kitchen I hunted through the cabinets. “Want some hummus and crackers? Or we have ice cream, but it’s made from tofu.”
“That’s okay, I probably shouldn’t anyway.” Lauren grabbed a water and headed to my room. I swallowed my meds and followed, hoping there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around.
Except when I entered my room and found her sitting at my desk paging through the magazine Gyver’d read, I was almost disappointed. It’s not like I wanted her to be trying on a hospital bracelet or reading a chemo pamphlet, but a sign I should tell her or a situation where it was unavoidable—maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. Ryan had handled it.
“You’re staring at me. Is my hair huge and frizzy? I swear I look like a Chia Pet half the time.”
“What?” I laughed. “You’re ridiculous. I love your hair.”
“Sure. Now sit and tell me all about Ryan. I want to hear everything.”
My eyes drifted over the bed, pillows in clean cases since I’d sobbed all over the others. My throat tightened. I couldn’t think of a plausible lie, and I didn’t want to. I was sick, she was my friend; I deserved her support, she deserved the truth.
Lauren sat next to me on the bed. She put an arm around my shoulder and used her other hand to untangle mine from my necklace. “Hey, there’s something going on, isn’t there? You can tell me, you know.”
So I did.
For the second time this week I turned my bedroom into a confessional. Lauren didn’t sob or bolt, just turned so pale her freckles stood out like ink spatter. She hugged me tightly while I explained, then paced while asking questions.
“Who else knows? Did everyone but me?”
“No. Not at all. Just Ryan and Gyver.”
“You didn’t even tell Hil?” Lauren sounded shocked, then answered herself, “Well, duh you didn’t. She wouldn’t be acting so bitchy if she knew. Oh, Mia, I’m glad you told me. I can’t imagine how hellish this summer must’ve been. I would’ve been an excellent hospital visitor, you know.”
“You can prove it—I go back tomorrow for more chemo.”
The color that had started to creep back into her cheeks faded. “More? It’s not done?”
“Not even close. I’ve got a new round every six to eight weeks.”
“Then I’ll be there.” She stooped to hug me again. “We’ll do movies and manicures and I’ll make it fun.”
“Thanks.” I exhaled this tension and inhaled the stress of my next challenge. “How do you think I should tell Ally and Hil?”
Lauren dropped onto my bed in a tangle of limbs only gymnasts and cheerleaders can accomplish. “Oh … so you are going to tell them?”
I was surprised by the sniff of disapproval in her voice. “Well, yeah. Shouldn’t I?”
She exhaled slowly, motionless for once. “Honestly?” Even her voice was slow, like an idea was coming into focus and she couldn’t quite make it out. “I don’t think you should yet.”
“What?”
“Not right away, at least.” And then she was back up to manic speed. “It’s just that Hil is still totally worked up over the Keith thing. She’s about one stressor away from tearing someone’s head off or locking herself in her room. Did she tell you he texted her again this weekend?”
I shook my head. I guess I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.
“All it said was: I miss you, which is totally unhelpful, since last week he posted all these pictures of him with other girls on Facebook. He’s such a toolbox. She can’t handle this right now. And if you tell Ally …”
“Everyone will know,” I finished.
“Well, yeah.” She unwound her arm from around her ankle. “It sucks. And, I mean, this is just my opinion; you do what you think …”
I grabbed a tissue to wipe my eyes. “No, I think you’re right. Once Hil’s in a better place, Keith-wise …”