Mabel grins. “So cute.”
We go through a couple more boxes until we find some containing journals. That’s when the work really slows down, since we have to go through each book, scouring for any sign of a checklist. Mabel says we should just look at the inside back covers, but that’s lazy. We don’t know Meg put the checklist in the same spot in each book. I don’t want to risk having the right journals in our hands and disregarding them.
An hour later, we still haven’t found the ones we’re looking for.
But honestly, we haven’t gotten very far. We’re still on the first box. Because we keep stopping to read.
June 1.
This must be the journal that immediately follows the green one, the one from the beginning of our relationship that I’ve had all along.
Mabel might be happier than I am that Ryden and I are officially going out.
Okay, that’s probably not true. But she is super excited about it. She knows how much I like him. She’s also beyond thrilled that she knows someone in high school besides me and Alan. Someone “cool,” as she puts it. Because she’s going to be a freshman in the fall and having a connection to one of the most popular guys in school “will totally up her cred.”
I don’t know, I think Alan and I are pretty cool.
The only thing Mabel’s not happy about is the fact that I haven’t told him about the cancer yet. She keeps saying I’m lying to him and it’s not right. But I’m not lying. I’m just not giving him the whole truth. There’s a difference.
I know I’m going to have to tell him eventually. Once he knows, it’s going to change everything, and things are so good right now. Is it really that bad if I’m selfish for a little while longer?
June 12.
I told Alan the miserable truth today: I go back in for round 2 two weeks from Monday.
“Not the best way to start summer vacation,” he said over the sound of that god-awful 50 Cent song he’s always listening to.
“It’s okay. I’m glad it’s not happening until school is over. They say the aftereffects will be a lot worse this time. I don’t want to have to miss any of my finals.”
Her second chemo session. The one that never happened. That’s what they were talking about.
I pulled my art history notebook out of my bag and began to copy Alan’s notes since I missed class to go to the doctor. Turns out the title Judith Beheading Holofernes isn’t exactly a metaphor—yikes.
But Alan was staring at me like he was trying to figure something out.
And then he snapped.
“How can you act like this is all no big deal?” he shouted. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard Alan shout before today. “You have cancer, Meg. And it’s getting worse. But you act like all you care about is school.”
“You don’t get it.” I tried to sound tough, but it came out sounding pathetic.
“Well, please, explain it to me. I’m all ears.” Alan pushed a button on his computer, and 50 Cent mercifully vanished. The room was silent. Alan’s arms were crossed over his chest.
I took a deep breath and said the things I’ve been feeling for a while that I never told anyone.
School is important. It’s one of the only things in my life that hasn’t changed since my diagnosis. And as long as I can go to my classes, learn things, and do my homework, it feels like there’s still an order to everything. So the idea of having to miss a bunch of school, the one routine in my life that still feels normal, because of the disease that has made everything else abnormal, is not okay.
Alan spun his cell phone around and around on his desk, letting my words sink in. When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes.
I really, really hated seeing him like that.
He let out a huge, steadying breath. “I didn’t mean to yell at you,” he said. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” It really is.
“But can I say one more thing? Being that I’m your best friend and care about you a lot?”
I smiled at that. “Sure.”
“I miss seeing you happy. You’re so serious all the time. I know it’s for a good reason, but I think that by trying to stay detached from the cancer stuff, you’re missing out on other stuff too.” He looked at me intently, like he’d just said the most profound thing ever uttered by humankind. And you know what? He had. But I didn’t see it yet. I was still clueless.
“Um…what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Does the name Ryden Brooks mean anything to you?”
I felt my face get red.
“You love him.” It wasn’t a question.
I looked down at my book, but I wasn’t looking at the words anymore. I nodded.
“You should tell him. Everything.”
He sounded just like Mabel.
I tried to flop back on the bed in exasperation, but I wasn’t feeling great, so it ended up being more of a ginger lean-back.
“Live your life, Meg,” Alan said.