Radiate (29 page)

When we separate, he asks, “Are you hungry?”

Not really, but I’ll feign it to stay with him. “Sure.”

As he starts the truck and drives off, I try to look on the positive side, but something’s just not right.

Oh, my friend, it’s not what they take away from you that counts. It’s what you do with what you have left.

—Hubert Humphrey

At Friday’s pep rally, three freshmen girls approach me, asking if they can have my wristband after the event. They literally raced one another to get over to me, but Janell Armstrong was first and I promise it to her. When the music cranks, I fall into line and perform our funky dance routine as if nothing’s wrong with me, smiling through the discomfort in my leg. Most of the routine has me doing moves in the back where I don’t have to walk around a lot. At least Chloe choreographed it that way for me.

Hurts so good .
.
. hurts so good .
.
.

Friday night at the game, I’m decked out in the one-piece red and white uniform with a large “P” on the front, just like the other eleven girls. I leave the crutches on the bench and do my best to get along without them for the duration of the game.

The game is a real barn burner, as my granddaddy would say. Daniel catches six dump passes and one screen pass in a row right before the third quarter plays out, with Marquis Richardson punching it in from the two-yard line to put the Pats up.

Lora hugs me and we squeal like little girls.

The band cranks up the fight song, and we break into our dance. The adrenaline is rushing through me. With only three or four measures of the song left to go, I forget and put my weight on my left side, scream bloody fricking murder, and collapse onto the grass. Tara and Ashlee rush to help me.

“Hayley!” Tara screams out.

“I’m okay.” I lie. The white-hot ache creeps from my knee to my numb toes.

Damn my leg! Damn this cancer!

When the song’s over, Lora turns to help brush grass off me. She smiles and laughs. “Nice move, Grace.”

We laugh together, although I really want to cry.

How embarrassing to fall like that in front of everyone in the stadium, in front of my friends and my . . .

“Hayley Ann Matthews! What are you doing?” Mom shouts from the gate. “You’re not supposed to be jumping on that leg.”

“I know, Mom. I slipped. Okay?” I lower my voice. “Please don’t make it any worse.”

I note the agony in her eyes, remembering how she said when her kid hurts, she hurts. The last thing I want to do is to cause her more pain.

Looping my thumb and forefinger together, I give her the okay sign. She reluctantly returns to her seat in the stands, but I sense her eyes constantly on me.

Chloe glares at me. I’ve messed up her perfect squad once again. However, instead of reacting to her judgment, I simply hold out the ends of my cheerleader skirt and do a curtsy to her and then to the stands. I get a rousing round of applause. Or maybe it was for the extra point that Philip Bradenton just kicked. Depends on how one wants to interpret it.

We win the game by a touchdown to remain undefeated for the season. I get my crutches and take to the field in search of Daniel.

“Awesome game!” I say as I come up to him.

Instead of acknowledging me, Daniel steps over to the retreating referee—actually, one of the back judges—and points at number thirty-six of the opposing team. “That asshole’s held me all night.”

“Game’s over, son,” the man says. “You won. Take your victory home.”

Daniel jerks away and mumbles under his breath.

“The ref’s right. It doesn’t matter. We won,” I say.

“Whatever,” he says.

I think about kissing him, but he’s in too icky a mood, so I leave him alone as we walk off the field together.

Chloe sidles up to him, all bouncy and happy. “Great game, Daniel!”

A smile actually forms on the corner of his mouth as he looks down at her. “Thanks, Chloe.”

Oh what? He’s nice to her? WTF?

“I’m having a party out at my farm. You’re invited, of course,” she says to my boyfriend.

Thank heavens Daniel includes me. “Whattaya say, Hayley? Up for a party?”

“Sure, Hayley, you’re invited, too. Of course.” Chloe’s voice is sickly sweet. “It’s a pool party, though.” Her eyes slide down the length of me to rest on my bandaged leg. “You’re not exactly able to swim, are you?”

“I don’t see why not, but it’s October. Won’t we freeze our tushies off?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “It’s heated... hello.”

“Yo, Dela,” Skipper yells out at Daniel. “Postgame meeting in the locker room.”

“Be right there!” He turns to me. “Get a ride to the party from Lora and I’ll meet you there later.” Then he runs off to join his teammates.

Chloe sneers at me. “Guess I’ll see you there.”

Oh hell yeah, you’ll see me there.

Lora and I do a quick run by our respective houses for bathing suits, towels, and a change of clothes.

“Must be nice to have a heated swimming pool,” I say as Lora steers her BMW into the gravel driveway of Chloe’s farm.

“Her parents are made of money. They have horses out here that they pay some guy to take care of, but it’s mainly a party place for her family. I’ve heard her father has a poker ring that operates out of here.”

I snicker. “You make it sound so Mafioso for south Alabama.”

Lora turns to the right and parks under a large pecan tree. “That’s just what Uncle Ross has told me. He got invited to a blackjack night one time, but he had a business trip the next day or something and didn’t go.”

Lora and I get out of the car and walk around—I crutch around—to the back of the ranch house. It’s totally packed with people. There’s a huge swimming pool filled with teeming blue water that sparkles from the lights shining down on it. Steam rises in inviting, swirling fingers. Fellow students can’t resist cannonballing and diving into its depths. A water slide sits in one corner, and people are already lined up to zip up the ladder. There’s a diving board in the deep end, and I see Ashlee Grimes preparing to hurl herself into the warm water.

Squinting off at the low-lit deck that leads into the ranch house, I ask Lora, “Is that... a waiter?”

A guy is carrying a plate of sandwiches around, offering them to people.

Lora sets her stuff down on a chaise lounge. “The Bradentons have more dollars than sense.”

“You can say that again.” I pause for a moment and change the subject. “I don’t understand exactly what Chloe’s problem is with me. We used to be friends in middle school. I mean, just last year, we talked civilly to each other, and I took her homework to her when she had her chickenpox. Now, she treats me like I’m pond scum under her feet.”

Very matter-of-factly, Lora says, “Hayley, it’s obvious. She’s jealous of you.”

I can’t suppress the snort. “Chloe? Jealous of me? Oh sure, let’s be jealous of the bald chick who had cancer and is still hobbling around on crutches. You know, the
one
cheerleader who didn’t get nominated for homecoming. Yeah, I’d be jealous of me, too. Not.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t look good on you, my friend,” Lora says with a laugh.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

Shifting toward me, Lora explains. “It’s simple. You’ve taken the attention away from
her.
It’s always been about Chloe... since, like, birth. She’s always been popular and pretty. People just don’t say no to her. She’s one of those girls. A cliché. But clichés are clichés for a reason.”

“Exactly. But why lash out at me?”

“Hayley,” Lora says, rolling her eyes, “you’ve stolen her limelight.”

I’m so confused. “What limelight?”

“You’re an inspiration to people as you stand on the field and cheer. Don’t you get that? People aren’t looking at the pretty captain in all her glory. They’re watching the brave cancer survivor who’s cheering her heart out for her team while she has no hair on her head and a long scar on her leg.”

My pulse races under my skin at her words. Had anyone else said this to me, I might have told them they were crazy. But Lora doesn’t play games. She doesn’t bullshit. “Wow. I never tried to do any of that.”

“Exactly,” Lora says, and then wraps her arm around me.

As her words sink in, I try to process all of it. I never wanted to be a role model or an example to anyone. I just wanted to cheer.

Our interlude is interrupted by a friendly face. “Having fun, ladies?”

“Yo, Tremb,” Lora says. “How’s it going?”

Gabriel lifts a beer and a half sandwich and smiles. “No complaints from me. Y’all want anything?”

The hoppy smell of the beer churns the nausea in my stomach. “I’m not drinking.”

Lora jumps up. “Well, I am. I see William over by the keg... so I’ll BRB.”

Gabriel replaces Lora on the chaise when she leaves. He retrieves something from the pocket of his long, baggy swim trunks. “Here, maybe this is more your speed.”

I glance at his palm and see five mini Snickers bars. My smile widens as I snitch them from him. “How’d you know?”

“I notice things. Besides, there’s a big bowl of candy over there.”

I pop the delicious chocolate into my mouth and suck on it, allowing all of the layers to break down in my mouth one by one.

“So what’s with prince charming?” Gabriel asks.

“Who?”

“Delafield.”

“Oh, Daniel. He had to see the coach after the game. He’ll be here.”

Gabriel points over to the hot tub. “He’s already here. I meant what’s with him all up on Chloe?”

My head snaps, and I swallow the mouthful of candy. Over in the corner, Daniel is sitting on the edge of the hot tub with none other than a bikini-clad Chloe Bradenton massaging his shoulders. Okay... maybe she’s jealous of more than just the attention I’m getting. Maybe she’s resentful that I’m dating the hottest guy in school.

I sense steam rising off me much like off the pool. Only mine is fueled by anger, not by the nippy weather. “Crutches, please.”

Gabriel silently obeys, and I take a swinging stroll to the other side of the backyard.

“Hi there,” I say, surprising both my boyfriend and my adversary.

Chloe smirks at me and then slowly removes her hands from Daniel’s shoulders.

“Hey, babe,” he says nonchalantly. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know
you
were here,” I retort. “You know, I could do that for you... babe.” I emphasize
babe
in a way that tells her to back off and him that he’s being an ass.

“Of course you can, Hayley,” Chloe says. “It’s too bad you can’t really enjoy the party.”

I glare at her, trying not to let my hatred for her haughtiness show too much. “What do you mean?”

“You know—you can’t really swim, what with the crutches... the bandage . . .”

Is this some sort of dare? A gauntlet being thrown down at my feet?

Well, screw her.

I turn on my crutches and return to where Gabriel is sitting.

“Hayley, don’t let her get to you.”

I bite down on my bottom lip, trying to channel my rage into something useful. “Too late.”

I lay the crutches down, flip off my shoes, and bend down to unwind the bandage from my leg. The purple marks have finally faded and there’s nothing but a pinkish-red scar and a large scab at the point where the doctors cut me open three times. I don’t need the bandage anymore. I have nothing to hide from anyone anymore. I’m not ashamed.

I grit my teeth as I take four hobbled steps to the diving board. Hot, shooting pangs of agony elevator up and down my leg, but I climb the ladder in spite of it. I’m walking. Well, climbing. One unsure step... then another. It hurts like blue-blazing hell, but I do it.

Gabriel cheers me on, as do Lora, Tara, Hannah, and Ashlee, who’ve all gathered around to watch what’s going on.

Daniel dives into the pool and emerges through the steam, smiling about ten feet in front of the diving board. He holds his arms out. At least he’s trying to help me.

I move to the end of the diving board and wiggle my toes on the edge. Using my right leg to push off, I springboard myself up, spread my legs out, touch my toes with my hands, and then plunge into the warm, awaiting water. I catapult to the bottom and then push off with my right foot. As I swim upward, a special victory washes over me, purifying me of the hatred and resentment I feel for my cheerleading captain who should be a hell of a lot more understanding. I break the surface and take a deep breath. Water sluices down my bare head and face. Several people applaud. Daniel swims to me and gives me a bear hug.

To the side, Chloe flattens her lips, and I swear I hear her harrumph.

Whatever. If she’s got a problem with me, then
she
needs to get over it.

Like Neil Armstrong, I’ve taken one giant leap.

I
will
walk without those crutches, come hell or high water.

I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind.
Some come from ahead and some come from behind.
But I’ve brought a big bat. I’m all ready you see.
Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!

—Dr. Seuss

Ever since I started high school, I have adored homecoming week.

Everyone has a common goal, and the school spirit is off the charts. Now it’s the perfect distraction to all that troubles me.

Issues bounce around in my head, but I refuse to stop and deal with them. There’s simply no reason to dwell on the bad things like no hair, a scarred leg, no homecoming court nomination. Instead I pay attention to making senior memories, wearing my cheer spirit on my sleeve, and being with my boyfriend.

There is so much going on this week leading up to our game with the Jeff Davis Prep School Lemurs, one of our biggest rivals. (What a ’tarded name, though. They used to be the Confederates. Then the name got changed to the Generals, and a few years ago, they went with Lemurs. I’m glad “Patriots” isn’t politically incorrect.) Each day this week, we have different dress-up days to get the school spirit at an all-time high. Monday is “Going to War with Jeff Davis Prep,” so everyone comes dressed in fatigues. Lora and I hit the Army-Navy supply store Sunday afternoon and got pants and T-shirts in the desert colors. I tied camo bandanas on my crutches to add to the effect.