Radiate (33 page)

Of course,
I
haven’t abandoned them as I should.

Gabriel even told me I don’t need these damn things anymore.

He’s right.

It’s time for me stop using these crutches as a—well, a crutch. Yeah, it’s going to hurt to walk for a while, but there’s no time like the present to get headed down that path.

Without acknowledging Chloe and her disparaging remarks, I allow my adrenaline to get the best of me. It’s pumping so hard through my system that I could probably knock out any heavyweight champ and swipe his big shiny belt from him. I take my crutches and lift them over my head. Over to the far left is a city Dumpster. With all my might, I chuck the crutches as far as I can. The first one hits the Dumpster and disappears into its depths while the second one bounces off the lid and hangs on top. I wipe my hands together as if to say, “It’s done.”

While all the other cheerleaders hoot and holler, Chloe stands stunned, her mouth hanging open.

I advance on her while I still have the guts to do it. “
Nothing
—not you, not those crutches, not anything—will keep me from marching in this parade right now or from cheering tonight or any other night.” I witness the looks of my stunned teammates. They are shocked in a good way, that someone finally stood up to the queen. Oh wait, she’s not the queen; she’s just an attendant. “I’d be honored to be captain tonight.”

The rest of the squad, including the girls in the cars, cheer for me, and I nod and smile.

I won’t be a victim of this cancer anymore.

I won’t let it stop me.

I won’t let people like Chloe and Daniel win because I’m physically weaker.

Actually, I’m not physically weak at all. Gabriel has seen to that. I can’t wait to hang out and party with him tonight.

I am mentally tough, and that’s what counts.

“You’ve got a car to get to, Chloe,” I say sweetly. “And we’ve got a parade to march in. Let’s line up!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tara shouts out, and follows me into formation.

Although there’s a profound limp, I march the entire parade through downtown Maxwell, cheering my school and executing our pompom routine, all the while smiling through the pain.

It truly does hurt so good.

I owe much to my friends; but, all things considered, it strikes me that I owe even more to my enemies. The real person springs life under a sting even better than under a caress.

—André Gide

I’m still riding the high from the parade and from having finally ditched the crutches. I probably shouldn’t have left them in a city Dumpster, but oh well. In a way, I owe Chloe thanks for pushing my buttons and getting me to chuck those things once and for all.

“Mom, I’m home!” I scream out when I burst through the back door.

She comes running in from the den and scoops me into her arms. “I am
soooooo
proud of you! You’re off your crutches. And you marched the entire parade route.” Her eyes fill with tears; happy ones, I assume. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I briefly share the tête-à-tête with Chloe, and I can see Mom is even more pleased with me.

“Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do, Hayley.”

“I know, Mom. I know. I handled it.”

Dad walks in and slips off his boots. “I saw the parade come by the store, but I couldn’t come out. Sorry I missed it, Little Kid.”

Mom swoops on him. “Jared, she did it without her crutches.”

Dad lifts an eyebrow at me. “Did it hurt?”

“No more than usual,” I say. “Besides, Dr. Dykema told me I needed to strengthen my muscle in that leg. No better way to do it than to get off the crutches.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Dad says, and then hugs me to him. When I pull back, he reaches into his coat pocket. “Got you something.”

Another Snickers bar.

“Thanks, Dad. My appetite has actually started coming back. I’m not constantly nauseated.”

He tweaks my nose and tells me to keep doing what I’m doing. “Now, Hayley, run along upstairs and get ready for the game. I have some things I need to talk to your mother about.”

“Nothing bad, right?”

Dad smiles. “Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

I swing my purse onto my shoulder and limp off down the hallway to the staircase. I hear my parents whispering to each other, so low that it makes me beyond curious. I stop at the bottom of the steps to see if I can hear anything.

I must have sonar hearing like a dolphin or something, because I hear bits and pieces.

“... business is horrible. I don’t know what to do.”

“... should sell . . .”

“... medical bills are rolling in . . .”

“... insurance won’t cover fully . . .”

“... don’t let Hayley know . . .”

My parents are keeping important adult things from me. All parents do that, right? It’s normal. However, most families aren’t faced with a two-month hospital stay with three surgeries, chemo, and radiation. I know we have insurance, but did it cover me and all of my procedures? Guilt coats me; an ugly fashion statement. Have I caused my parents to plunge into a dire financial situation?

“What’s wrong?” Dad asks me. I hadn’t even heard him approach in the hallway—so much for that dolphinlike sonar.

“Um... just... um... concentrating on going up the stairs without my crutches.”

He nods, believing my quick fib. “Do you want me to follow you up?”

“Okay.”

I take the steps one at a time and am surprised by how easy it seems to be. Sure, my leg still hurts, but it’s going to. I just have to work around it and deal with it. At the top, Dad pats me on the back.

“Good job. You’ll be taking them two at a time again before you know it.” His smile says he’s hiding something—something deep and important.

“Is everything okay, Dad? I mean... with the family and business and stuff?”

“Why would you even ask that?” he says. “You worry about school, cheerleading, and a full recovery. Mom and I will worry about the petty adult stuff.”

He kisses me on top of the head and returns downstairs.

Thing is... Dad is
such
a bad liar.

***

The homecoming game itself with the Jeff Davis Prep School Lemurs is lackluster, at best. Six to six is the boring score. It’s a battle of the field goal kickers and nothing more. Our guys look flat and uninterested and, quite frankly, so am I.

However, the halftime ceremony has me in tears.

Lora, escorted by her Uncle Ross, looks gorgeous in her black cocktail dress. The red satin banner crossing her body shimmers under the stadium lights, really showing off the glitter. I zap tons of pics on my cell phone from my place on the sidelines. Lora waves at me, as does Ross, who’s looking a little pale tonight.

Felicia Johnston, last year’s homecoming queen, is back here at PHS to crown Lora with the lovely, sparkly rhinestone tiara. I’m so happy for my partner that I could burst into song.

When everyone exits the field, I give her a big hug, almost smashing her bouquet of roses. Both her mom and mine are there at the fence and snap some pictures of us together. I try to pull Ross into one of them since he was her escort, but he waves me off.

“I’m not feeling very well,” he says. “I think I need to go home and lie down.”

“Ross, you should eat something. Come sit with me and we’ll get burgers from the concession,” Miss Lorraine says with concern.

He puts his hand to his stomach. “I don’t feel like eating, either. Really, Sis. I’m just worn out. It’s been a long week.” He leans down and kisses Lora on the cheek. “It was an honor escorting you.”

“Thanks, Uncle Ross,” she says.

As he passes by me, he takes a swipe over the top of my head and smiles. “Those protein shakes are working, Hayley. Keep at it.”

I mock salute him and then watch him leave.

Lora notices the small wrist corsage that I’m wearing and she gasps. “Did Daniel finally come to his senses and ask you to homecoming?”

The football team arrives back on the field at that exact moment, and I give the death stare at Daniel as he runs by.

“Hardly,” I say. “He’s taking Chloe, didn’t you hear?”

“No, I didn’t. I’ve sort of been in a fog since the announcement this morning.” She looks at my corsage again. “So who gave you that?”

“My parents,” I say. “I know it’s pathetic, but they wanted me to have something.”

Lora’s smile is as vibrant as her new crown. “I think that’s very special.”

“I do have a sort of date to the dance.” I pause as her eyes widen. “Gabriel and I are going... just as friends.”

“Yeah, right,” Lora says with a cackle. “He’s been in love with you since you hit him in the head with the piñata stick at Ashlee Grimes’s birthday party.”

My mouth falls open. “We were ten!”

“It’s been that long,” Lora reports. “Come on, everyone knows it... except you. And him.”

Gabriel? In love with me? I doubt it.

But I can’t shake the conversation the whole rest of the game. I pay attention and start the appropriate cheers when we’re on offense or defense, but I can’t help looking for Gabriel on the sidelines. He has a white towel slung over one shoulder, and he carries a tray of water bottles for the players when they come out of the game. I also watch as he makes notes on charts and gets whatever Coach Gaither needs to do his job. Gabriel’s as big as the other guys, and probably more muscular. I wonder why he isn’t playing the game as he did when he was younger and was on the peewee team.

As I’m pondering this, Marquis Richardson breaks free of a tackle up the middle and high steps it down the field. The crowd goes nuts, propelling him toward the goal line with our yells.

“Score!” I scream out, and jump up and down on my right leg.

The players on the sideline rush past us as Marquis makes his way to the thirty, twenty-five, twenty, fifteen...
BAM
... The strong safety for the Lemurs nailed him on the eleven-yard line.

I glance up at the clock. Under a minute to go in the game. Still tied. A berth in the state playoffs on the line. Thoughts of Gabriel and whether he does or doesn’t like me fall aside... for the moment.

“Get your poms and let’s go,” I shout out to the girls.

“What are we doing?” Melanie asks. I see her dart a look up into the stands at Chloe. I’m in charge tonight, though, and we’re going down to the goal line to help the team.

Melanie and I join hands. She helps pull me along the remaining thirty-ish yards so that we’re standing on the edge of the field. No one seems to mind, so the eight of us line up, poms secured in our fists.

“Oh my God! We’ve got to score!” Ashlee screams out next to me.

I start cheering. “Shove that ball across the line... Shove that ball across the line... Shove that ball across the line... Shove it! Shove it, Patriots, shove it!”

First down, Skipper’s in at QB as a mixup. He fades back to pass, but it’s a fake. He hands it off to Marquis or runs right, and then he hands it off to Daniel. It’s a reverse!

“Go, Daniel!” I scream out. I don’t care if he is a dick; he’s still on my team.

The Lemurs are onto the play and pile their linebackers and defensive backs on the left side, planting Daniel into the sod.

“That’s okay! That’s okay! Second down!” I yell.

Daniel made three yards on the play.

Second down, Marquis Richardson runs up the middle off tackle. He gets a couple of hard-earned yards and then he’s down.

Hannah runs her hands up into her hair, nearly tugging her ponytail down. “I can’t take this!”

I start another cheer as we stomp side to side off to the side of the goal. “Our defense will dazzle, our offense is hot stuff. We’re the mighty Patriots and we’re tough, tough, tough.”

Lauren screams out the next verse. “Sugar and cream... sugar and cream... what’s the matter with the other team? Nothing at all... nothing at all... they just can’t play football.”

A little persnickety, but we’re talking playoff potential here.

Melanie Otto starts up another, and we all join in. “Time is ticking off the clock! Give it all you’ve got! Score, Polk, Score!”

Third down, Skipper fades back to pass. Coverage is man-to-man. The offensive line holds. I see Daniel break free from his man into the back of the end zone. Skipper lets the pass fly from his wrist, sailing precisely toward the space between the two ones on Daniel’s chest.

And he drops it.

“Son of a bitch!” Hannah screams out.

Lauren and Melanie collapse to the field on their knees. Ashlee is stunned.

“What do we do?” she asks me.

“Fourth down, we’re on the five, and there’re eighteen seconds left,” I report like an ESPN anchor. “If I were Coach Gaither, I’d bring in Phillip to kick.”

Hannah shakes her head. “Hand it off to Richardson up the middle. He can power through.”

Ashlee says, “Don’t you think Daniel deserves another shot at it?”

I look at him pacing around the huddle, smacking himself on the helmet. It was a perfect pass. He just... dropped it.

A whistle blows and Coach Gaither motions for the offense to come in. He’s sending out the kicking team.

Hannah smiles at me. “You know your shit, Matthews.”

“I’ve got an idea,” I say. “We’re going to kneel at the goal.”

“Awesome!” Lauren says. “I’ve seen the Maxwell State cheerleaders do this.”

Lining up, we all move to our knees, grip our poms in our fists, and lock arms with one another. The silvery-red poms shaking mightily over our heads flicker in the lights above, and we start our cheer.

“Make that kick! Make that kick! Make that kick!”

Phillip—the good Bradenton—trots out onto the field and lines up the view of the short field goal. Skipper takes a knee and calls to the center to hike the ball. Suddenly, everything is in slow motion. The ball spins end over end until Skipper snatches it out of the air and then plugs it down to the ground, supporting it with his index finger. Phillip winds up his leg and slices it downward to connect with the pigskin. The ball sails through the air, just over the outstretched fingertips of one of the Lemur linemen, and then splits the uprights.