Someone called my cell three times in a row Wednesday night. I knew it was Hil without looking—this was her MO: calling repeatedly because she couldn’t be bothered with leaving messages and waiting for callbacks. I shut my phone off.
The house line rang. Mom came in my room holding it. “Hil’s on the phone—she says your cell’s off. Did you forget to charge it, kitten?” I was sitting at my desk, pretending to do homework but really fighting waves of dizzying fatigue.
I pointed to Jinx in my lap, and Mom walked the phone over. “It was good talking to you, Hil. I don’t see you anymore! You’ll have to schedule a girls’ night soon. Here’s Mia.”
Mom glowed at me and left. I waited until the door shut, then asked, “What?”
Hillary responded with an equally cheery, “Are you going to be pissed forever or are you going to get over this?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know the answer. “I just can’t believe you’d do that to me.”
“I was testing him for you.” Her voice was sweet as bubble bath and just as slippery.
“You told Ryan you’d sleep with him! That wasn’t for my benefit. Don’t lie to me—I’m not an idiot.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to erase the tension and sweat that was beading there.
Her voice lost its silky persuasion. “Fine! I was an idiot. Is that what you want to hear? I’m the world’s biggest idiot and it was a stupid, shitty thing to do. But I didn’t say I’d sleep with him—just kiss him. Not that that’s okay, it’s not—but I would never—you know Lauren’s lying.” Her voice was panic spiked with apology. “I was drunk—so drunk Chris and I actually … I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say.”
“Tell me why.”
“I don’t even really remember. To see if I could? Because he was there. Because he was sad you weren’t and wouldn’t shut up about it. Because he’s more important to you than we are. Because, apparently, I suck as a friend and it makes sense that you would choose him over me.”
“Ryan’s not more important than you guys! How can you say that?” But as I spoke, I realized how much time I gave him and how little I had left for her. It wasn’t that he was a higher priority; it was that I didn’t have to lie to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around, but really, Ryan hasn’t replaced you. He couldn’t.”
“I miss you. And I made that mistake with Keith—I always chose him over you guys. Then he just left me. I feel like you’re leaving too,” confessed Hil. “And I’m so sorry. Please come back to practice. Don’t let my being an idiot stop you from cheering at the East-Green game.”
“We’ll see.” I was too tired to commit to anything. I left my desk and lay down on top of my comforter. I could put on pajamas and brush my teeth later.
“C’mon. It’s East versus Green! After we’ll all go to the party. I need some Mia time.” Her voice became wistful. “Senior year has sucked so far. I wish we could go back to last year, you know?”
“Yeah.” I had that wish on speed dial.
“Are we okay? There’s not many people I care about hurting, but you’re one of them.”
I paused to gather my thoughts. They seemed so scattered and incoherent.
“Mia, I need us to be okay. I need to fix this. Date Ryan. Please date him if it will make you happy. But don’t cut me out; I can’t lose you too.”
“We’re okay.” I surrendered, too drained to fight or feel relieved that we weren’t fighting anymore. My whole body felt heavy and achy.
“You’ll be at practice tomorrow and stop avoiding me and sit with us at lunch?”
“I’ll be there,” I conceded as sweat ran into my exhausted eyes, blurring the room. I dropped the phone and settled into an uneasy sleep, praying I would feel more like myself by morning.
Chapter 32
“You know what I thought would be a great idea?” Mom asked as I entered the kitchen.
“Coffee?” I joked. Half joked. I felt like I’d need caffeine, a nap, and a body transplant to make it through the day.
“What? No! That’s full of chemicals and toxins. You shouldn’t mix caffeine with your medications—” She’d gone from chipper to panicked in two seconds.
“I’m kidding. Orange juice is perfect.” I poured myself a glass. “What’s your good idea?”
She gave a quick laugh. “Of course you were joking—you know better. I was thinking we should have a celebratory dinner.”
“What are we celebrating?” I took a large sip of juice to swallow the pills she’d neatly arranged on a tea saucer.
“Your first round of consolidation chemo is over, and everything’s going so well. I’ll admit, Saturday was rough—it was hard to see you so upset. But you worked through it and everything is fine. I’m so glad you still get to be a normal teen.”
I painted on a smile as I bit my lip to trap the swears I was mentally screaming. Normal teen? When? When I was lying to my friends, napping in the nurses’ room, or dressing to avoid exposing my port? Or was it the wig, pallor, and nausea that made me normal?
Just thinking this made the room spin.
“Nothing elaborate—I don’t want you overdoing it. Just me, Dad, you, and Ryan. You can invite Gyver if you want too.”