Radiate (11 page)

The young doctor speaks up. “It’s what Dr. Dykema requires. We only went into your lesion about a quarter of an inch. Pathology tests indicate that the portion we resected was benign. Due to the size of the tumor in your leg, we feel it’s best to do another biopsy, this time testing deeper into the tissue.”

Mom holds her cell phone in the air near Dr. Stanislovitis’s face. Uncle Roger is on the line, listening. “Well, what do you think?” she asks her brother.

Uncle Roger’s voice crackles over the bad connection. “I spoke with Dr. Dykema last night, and we agree this is the best thing.”

“The best thing is to just yank this icky thing out of my leg and let me get back to cheerleader practice,” I say with great force in my voice. “I have to make it to camp.”

Dr. Stanislovitis sits on the edge of my bed. Her warm brown eyes appeal to me, calming my nerves with their gentleness. “I wish it were that easy, Hayley. See, we have to determine first exactly what type of cancer you have. There are so many varieties that we have to make one hundred percent sure that we not only evacuate all of the mutant cells, but that we put you on the most effective follow-up treatment for your certain disease to minimize the chance of recurrence. I know you’re anxious to get back to your life, and I want nothing more than that for you. I’m just asking that you keep working with us and continue to be patient.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding. Damn... this woman has good bedside manners. Must have taken Elements of Persuasion in college.

My head falls back into the bulky pillows, and I tug at my long hair, bringing several strands up to my lips as I contemplate everything. It’s not like I have a choice. There’re “mutant cells,” as she said, “invading my body.” They have to come out.

“Let’s do it,” I say with a weak smile.

Dr. Stanislovitis pats the bed. “That’a girl. We’ll get the second biopsy scheduled for Wednesday.”

“Four days from now?” Mom asks before I can.

“Nan,” Uncle Roger breaks in. “That’s perfectly normal. They’ll need to run more tests, possibly do another MRI, and just keep a watch on the lesion before the second biopsy.”

Great... I get to be poked, prodded, and drained of more blood. Not to mention radiated again and again. That can’t be a good thing, even though they have been putting a lead apron on me to protect my “womanly parts” during all X-rays and tests.

“Thanks, Mrs. Matthews, Dr. Swonsky,” Dr. Stanislovitis says. “We’ll see you later.”

“Roger, I’ll call you later,” Mom says into the phone, and then clicks it off.

Just as the resident and her team of interns exit, Ginger slides into the room toting a gargantuan bouquet of white roses—a dozen it appears—accented by green leaves and baby’s breath. “These are for a Ms. Hayley Matthews in room 211.”

“Wow! Those are totally amazing!”

“I wonder if they’re from Mother and Daddy. Or the church.”

Ginger shakes her head. “Someone’s got an admirer, I’d say,” she teases. “Sorry, I peeked. I’m a snoop.”

My pulse quickens. My fingers tingle. All good things in anticipation of finding out who sent these. I know who I
want
them to be from! The sweet-smelling aroma of the arrangement wafts over to me and lifts my spirits off the floor. I forget all about another week in the hospital, another surgery, still not knowing what I’ve actually got... and dive forward to retract the card:

THINKING OF YOU, MISSING YOUR SMILE, AND HOPING YOU’RE BACK ON YOUR FEET SOON.

XO, DANIEL

Swoooooooooooon!

“From Daniel?” Mom asks.

“Ooooo... a hot guy back home?” Ginger asks, and I blush profusely.

“Football player,” Mom notes.

Ginger giggles as she heads out the door. “Of course he is.”

“Aren’t they beautiful?” I say, fluffing the arrangement and setting it on the bedside stand so I can get a good look at it.

“Very thoughtful.”

“I have to thank him, like now,” I say, reaching for my BlackBerry.

I text his number right away.

U R AMAZING!

HEY HAY!

I GOT UR FLOWERS. OMG!

MY MOM HELPED PICK THEM OUT

THEY R GORGY!

WISH I COULDA BRAWT MYSELF

THAT’S OK

COACH HAS US DOING 2-A-DAYS

YIKES. I’M SURE

HOW MUCH LONGER U IN?

A COUPLE MORE WKS.

:(

SAME HERE :(

MAYBE I CAN GET AWAY

THAT WOULD B AWESOMEM

I’LL C WHAT I CAN DO

SWEET. THX.

WE’RE ALL PULLING 4 U

THX DANIEL

TXT ME L8R

WILL DO. BYE!

“Everything good?” Mom asks, the worry lines starting to show on her lack-of-a-good-night’s-sleep face.

“It’s all good,” I say with a smile, and gaze adoringly at my flowers.

Knowing that Daniel is thinking about me is all I need.

***

“I need a break!”

Tossing my e-reader to the rolling table next to my bed, I feel as if I’m going to literally expire from boredom. It’s Tuesday. My second biopsy is tomorrow. The interns come in every afternoon to question me. No new news. Very few texts. It’s July. People are starting to forget about me as I atrophy here on the seventh floor of UAB Hospital.

Mom jerks up from her knitting. “Are you okay, Hayley? Are you in pain?”

I wave my hands around. “Mental anguish,” I say in a perfect teenage whine. I despise the sound of my own voice. I need a vacation from myself.

Actually, I need to get back to my life.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” Mom suggests.

“Good idea.” I slowly ease out of the bed and hobble to the bathroom, holding on to the wall and the nearby chair. Mom moves to hand me the crutches, but I want to do this on my own. Besides, the bathroom isn’t far. The five stitches in my leg itch and sting like all get-out and make me feel as though my skin’s going to tear apart. The “lesion” still throbs with a dull ache. My leg will never be the same. Tomorrow, there will be a bigger slash. More stitches. Less of me.

After a long, hot shower, I towel off, put on my PHS cheerleader shorts and a Patriots T-shirt, and head back into the room. I’m surprised to see Cliff and Lily standing there grinning like they’ve committed a crime.

“What?” I ask, my eyes wide.

“Get dressed,” Cliff says.

“Um... I
am
dressed.”

Lily smacks him on the arm. “Ignore him, Hayley.”

“I’ve been trying to do that my whole life,” I say with a giggle, and then stick my tongue out at my brother. He swats at me playfully, and, for a moment, the world is all right.

Cliff sits on the chair and tosses me my tennies that are on the floor. “Seriously. Get presentable for the outside world.”

My hopes soar. “We’re leaving the hospital?”

“Busting you out, kid!” Cliff says with a laugh.

Mom just smirks from across the room. “I told you to be patient.”

“What’s going on? Where are we going? Home?”

Lily helps me get my left shoe on since it hurts to bend my leg too much. “We’ve got a wonderful surprise for you. You have to trust us.”

I don’t care if they’re taking me to the zoo and leaving me in the cage next to the lion. I’m busting out of here. Sunshine! Blue sky! Fresh air!

Fifteen minutes later, I have an afternoon pass from the hospital from Dr. Dykema and I’m waiting outside on the curb while Cliff brings his SUV around to pick us up. Mom hops in the front with Cliff and Lily sits in the back with me; my crutches on the seat between us.

As we weave through the streets of downtown and up into the mountains, I roll down my window and let the sticky-hot July sunbeams shine on my face. My long hair blows in the wind and into my eyes, blocking my view of the stores, shops, billboards, and traffic.

“We’re almost there,” Cliff announces.

I roll the window back up and sit back, excitement trilling my pulse and making my toes wiggle.

My brother turns the SUV in to a long driveway that leads up to a bunch of large buildings. A sign reads “Welcome to Birmingham High School, Home of the Patriots.”

“Oh, my gosh! It’s the school where Emma and the other cheerleaders are from.”

Lily reaches for my hand. “Wait! There’s more.”

Cliff turns right into the circular drive around the school. An expansive—expensive—marquee lit up with scrolling information for the students. “First Day of School August 21... Band Camp August 14... Patriots vs. Lakewood Warriors, Friday, August 25 . . .”

Mom sees it first and gasps.

I’d do the same if it weren’t for the lump of emotion in my throat.

I watch as the red dotted letters scroll . . .

“Welcome, Hayley Matthews, Honorary Patriots Cheerleader!”

I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

—Tennessee Williams

Emma and the rest of the squad surround my brother’s car as we pull up to the Patriots’ gymnasium.

“Hey, Hayley!” they all call out when I open the door. I carefully swing my bum leg out and hold it up as I put my weight on the crutches.

“Y’all are amazing!” I screech out.

“Lily and Miss Lynda, our sponsor, talked, and agreed you need a break from the hospital,” Emma says. “So, we thought it would be cool for you to come to a practice.”

“It’s beyond cool!”

Mom, Lily, and Cliff sort of fall into the background as I’m surrounded by the BHS varsity squad. They set me on the first row of the bleachers in the gym while they get to work. My eyes nearly pop out of my head watching their tumbling passes and funky dance routine to a fast-paced Hip-Hop/Dance mix. They execute the moves like they’ve been working together for years. Pop. Lock. Clap. Slap.

“That was awesome!” I call out when they take a quick break.

Emma, trying to catch her breath, plops down next to me and hands me a bottle of water. I accept it and immediately quench my thirst.

“I love the pyramid y’all do at the end of the tumbling run. That girl with the braids can really fly,” I note.

“That’s Serena. She’s my little sister. Freshman and first year on the squad.”

“Are you hard on her?” I ask, thinking of how Chloe rides me because I’m new.

Emma nods and takes a long sip. “I have to be; otherwise people will think I’m giving her special treatment. She has to prove herself early on if she wants this to be her squad one day.”

“That makes sense,” I say.

“So, Hayley,” Emma says, turning to me, “are you a flyer or a base?”

“A base,” I say.

“Me too. There’s no way you’d get me up toward the top of a pyramid like that.”

We laugh together, and then I have an idea. “Hey, you know how your two end girls just did splits?”

“Yeah,” she says, listening.

“You should pair them up with the two girls in back who lifted the flyers into place. They could do a shoulder sit or stand and bridge their arms to your sister and that other girl on top.”

Emma thinks it out, and then her eyes light up. “I think that’s a great idea, Hayley!” She stands and then tugs on my arm. “Come on over and help us.”

“I shouldn’t—”

Tug, tug. “You should.”

Feeling the muscle in my left leg tighten and stretch, I balk again. “I can’t—”

Laughter bubbles from Emma. “Hell you can. If you’re going to overcome all this surgery, you need to have a positive attitude and just do it. Don’t ever say ‘can’t.’”

Shocked in place for a moment, I shake it off. Her words are like darts tossed at a balloon at a carnival, on target and popping my negative attitude. It’s like a spotlight of understanding has been turned on for me. “You’re right. So right. I can do anything I want.” I reach for my crutches and adjust them under my armpits. “Show me to the team.”

“Awesome!” Emma says, leading the way back to the pack. “Hey, y’all, Hayley’s got a great idea for our routine. Tell them.”

Just like that, I do.

***

My excitement is at an all-time high when Cliff and Lily return me to UAB Hospital. Even though I’m hopping along on my crutches, I feel like I’m walking on clouds.

“They were actually asking
my
opinion,” I say to Mom. “I mean, they let me show them that move that Ashleigh and Madison have been working on. Emma’s little sister, Eva, is really tiny, and they can toss her really high into the air with a basket toss.”