Radiate (42 page)

His eyes flutter open, and the corner of his mouth moves into a half smile. “Better to learn early that life’s not fair.”

“Hi, you,” I say. “Merry Christmas.”

His hand flips over, and we hold hands. An oxygen hose is attached to his nose, and his voice is very hoarse. “Is it Christmas? I guess I’ve lost track of the days.”

“It snowed, too,” I tell him.

“Nice.” His eyes close again for a moment or two, and his breathing becomes a tad labored. I don’t know whether to go get the nurse or not. He holds me in place and opens his eyes again. “Seriously, Hayley. Life is nothing but a series of hurdles. We can never give up or give in.”

“I’ve tried to be that way.”

He moves his eyes to mine. “You have. And you must stay that way. You have no idea what an inspiration you’ve been to me.”

The creak of the door grabs my attention from the patient, but not in a bad way. It’s what I’ve been waiting for since I made the phone call to Chloe.

It’s time.

“I’ll be right back, Ross. I’ve got a huge surprise for you. A Christmas present to end all Christmas presents.”

“What have you done, Hayley?” he asks with a chuckle, followed by a racking cough.

“I’ve brought you some Christmas cheer.”

I flick the overhead light on and then remove my long coat. Underneath, I’m wearing one of my PHS cheerleader uniforms. I open the door and in rush the members of the entire varsity squad, all in uniform and cheering—just as we planned. Lora leads the march with a huge balloon bouquet full of vibrant colors and curly ribbons, followed by Madison, Tara, and Hannah with their pompoms raised high as they make their way to the far side of the room. Chloe tumbles through the door, executing a perfect backflip right there in front of Ross’s bed. Whoa! Ashlee, Ashleigh, and Melanie enter, bringing a small Christmas tree decorated with garland, lights, and homemade ornaments. Lauren, Brittney, and Samantha pull up the rear, carrying a humongous cheer basket they pulled together from their homes, since stores are closed. Miss Lorraine slips in last, not holding back her tears of appreciation.

“Oh my God!” Ross proclaims. He manages to sit up in bed, and he beams at the display before him. “My own personal cheer squad.”

We line up in front of him and start clapping. Our captain starts the cheer, and we follow her lead: “Ross... attack!” Clap.

“A-T-T . . .” Clap. “A-C-K!”

“Ross . . .” Clap. “Attack!”

I cross my hands in the proper motions, fist tight, claps cupped. This is the most important performance of my short cheerleading career. We shift to the next chant: “Fight, fight tonight! Fight blue, fight red, fight white! Fight, fight tonight!”

It’s all worth it just to see the smile on Ross’s face. Miss Lorraine sits on the edge of his bed, clapping along with us. A couple of nurses pop their head into the room to tell us to keep it down, but nothing will stop us from our cheer focus.

“Jam! Say what? Say what? Jam! That’s what we do... We jam!”

Turn, spin, clap.

Point. “We do it for you!”

Quick squat to the floor and back up. “We turn around, we touch the ground, get back up and jam it down.”

“Go Ross!”

“We love you, Ross!”

“You rock it!”

“Merry Christmas!”

The cheers ring out from each of us as we surround him with as much liveliness and joy as possible.

Brittney retrieves the cheer basket, which we set on the bed next to him.

“Check it out, Uncle Ross,” Lora exclaims. “Everything you love.”

“I can see that,” he exclaims. There’s a stack of magazines on golf, boating, sports, skiing, and biking. A dozen or so Snickers bars are scattered around. A Christmas teddy bear with a stocking cap smiles out. There are protein drinks, bottled water, candy canes, some bedroom slippers, and some pens and crossword puzzle books.

Ross’s eyes cloud with tears. “Y’all have no idea how much this means to me. I can’t thank you enough... leaving your families on Christmas Day to be here”—his voice catches momentarily and then he whispers—“with me.”

Chloe steps forward. “It was all Hayley’s idea. She called me and we made it happen.”

I smile her way and wink. Teamwork—that’s what it’s all about. “Yes, we did.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” sweet little Madi says.

“Me either,” several girls repeat.

Lora places her head on Ross’s chest and hugs him. “I love you, Uncle Ross.”

“I love you, too, monkey.” He glances around. “You’re a special group of girls. You may not have taken the best squad trophy at camp, but you’re first place in my book. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is the best Christmas ever. God bless you all.”

Chloe smiles. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“We should let you get your rest,” I say.

The girls line up to hug Ross and wish him well.

When Chloe heads for the door, I stop her with my hand.

We face each other and I smile. Then I hug her to me. “Thank you so much for helping me pull this off, Chloe.”

She squeezes me back and says sweetly, “It was the right thing to do.”

We grab hands for a sec, and a moment passes between us; then she’s gone.

Just Miss Lorraine, Lora, and I are left, and I sense I need to give the small family their space. I pick up my coat and thread my arms through the sleeves.

“Hayley, don’t leave yet,” Ross says through a struggled breath. “I have something to tell you.”

I lean toward him so he doesn’t have to sit up. “Yeah, Ross?”

He breathes out. “Thank you.”

Slipping into my French II, I smile and say, “
Votre bienvenue.
”

I move again to leave, but he stops me with his hand on my arm. “Wait. Hayley... I’m so proud of you.” He struggles a bit to get the words out. “I’m... I’m proud to have known you.”

My chest pings in agony at his use of past tense words. “Ross, don’t . . .”

“Shhh... let me talk.”

I smile. “Yes, sir.”

“You have a calling, Hayley. A spokesperson for those... those who’ve overcome cancer. You never let the bastard disease grind you down. You never let it win. Hell, you never let it in the ball game. You fought it and kicked its ass.” He stops and licks his dry lips. “I never stood a chance. Never. I wasn’t lucky enough to defeat leukemia. But I was fortunate enough to have met you and watched you say the hell with what anyone thought of you... standing down there with your bandage, crutches, and bald head. You’re an inspiration. You cheer. You laugh. You live.”

He tugs my hand up to his lips and gives me a kiss. “Keep being strong, Hayley. For you. For me. For everyone who’s had to deal with the shit cancer throws at you. Spread your cheer. Don’t... don’t let it end. Most of all... keep being you. Because, you, Hayley Matthews... you, you... radiate.”

The tears escape from my eyes over his meaningful, yet challenging words. “Th-th-thanks, Ross. I’ll keep making you proud.”

“I know you will.” Our hands shake once more, and then he releases me.

“Get some sleep, Ross. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!”

“Have a nice life, Hayley.”

I shift past the major tear in my heart that Ross is ripping away by succumbing to this nasty disease. I wave to my partner and slip to the door, waving one last time. Ross wearily lifts his hand and I exit.

With the door closed, I lean back into it with my head against the wood.

I’m not psychic or intuitive, but I know in my heart of heart’s that this is probably the last time I’ll ever see my friend again.

***

The next day, Dad and I are watching a preview of the college bowl games coming up when my BlackBerry rings.

It’s Lora’s number on the caller ID.

I don’t even say anything.

I just click the button.

A second or two passes in deathly silence.

I know what’s coming next.

“He wasn’t as lucky as you, Hayley,” she says through her sobs. “He didn’t discover it in time. Don’t ever, ever forget how blessed and fortunate you are.”

“I know, Lora. Believe me, I know.”

I’m a lucky one .
.
.

I beat it.

I click the Off phone button and sigh.

Game On CEO and founder Ross Scott passed away at 11:11 a.m. at the age of thirty-four.

If you believe in yourself and have dedication and pride—and never quit, you’ll be a winner. The price of victory is high but so are the rewards.

—Paul W. “Bear” Bryant

Life goes on, renewing itself from the souls that remain.

Ross’s funeral is simple, elegant, and respectful.

I return to school after the holiday break, more focused and more determined to make the most of my life. My limp is subsiding, and my hair is growing like a weed. I know it’s only a matter of time before I’ll be back to my old self—if that person even still exists.

When you’ve been touched by a physical and mental challenge such as cancer, the rest of life’s obstacles seem like a piece of cake. I have plans now for my future; promises to keep; college letters to wait for and an academic curriculum to get me to my professional Alps.

Friday night of the first week of school, I come down the stairs in my black cocktail dress and black high heels.

Gabriel is waiting in the living room with my parents, dressed in a gray suit and a fashionably striped tie. He looks so mature and grown up... and I can envision us, advancing together through our lives and careers.

“You look beautiful, Hayley,” Mom notes. “Shall we get going?”

Mom and Dad are dressed up, too, in their finest to accompany us to the PHS football banquet at the Hyatt next to the Maxwell State University campus. My parents drive Mom’s car, and Gabriel and I follow in my Honda—I let him drive.

The room is perfectly decorated in red, white, and blue streamers, silver stars, and white-draped walls. The state championship trophy sits at the head table, along with the rest of the awards to be given out this evening.

Gabriel and I sit with Lora and Will, Ashlee and Anthony Ricketts, and Hannah and Scoop Dogg, dining on a fancy spinach salad, prime rib, baked potato, and grilled asparagus, followed by a chocolate raspberry cheesecake.

The sportscaster from WFFA in Montgomery is the keynote/motivational speaker. He mostly talks about his own meteoric rise in the local media. Gabriel and I are too busy holding hands and totally flirting the whole time to be listening to this guy blather on. Finally, it’s time for the awards.

Coach Gaither stands at the head table with his assistant coaches and our principal, Mr. Parish. Mrs. Ingram gets to sit up front, as well. The rest of the team, cheerleaders, and other important participants, such as the trainers and team doctors, are all seated at round tables on the right with family members on the left. There’s a crackle in the atmosphere, and we’re all sparked by having worked together as a cohesive unit to win the school’s first-ever state championship.

For me, it was so much more of a feat than simply that, but I’m happy to be part of the ceremony.

Mrs. Ingram stands up and presents the letters for cheerleading to all of us. I’m proud to file by with the rest of the girls to accept the thick knit blue
P
outlined in red and white.

I clap like a crazy person when Gabriel receives a special-recognition plaque for training the players. Marquis Richardson wins the trophy for “Play of the Year” for his touchdown in the championship game. Daniel receives “Best Offensive Weapon,” and Anthony gets “Best Defensive Player.” More awards swap hands as parents cry, clap, snap pictures, and get video of the event over the course of half an hour.

“What’s left to give out?” I ask Lora, since I’m a newbie to this banquet.

“MVP is the last one,” she says. “I bet Daniel gets it.”

“Or Skipper,” I add.

Coach Gaither stands at the podium and clears his throat. “As you’re all very much aware, we had a dream season, the type we coaches plan for, but never know we can execute until all of the components come together. This year, every person in this room counted toward the undefeated season we enjoyed. You parents, who brought your kids to practice, who sat in the stands and rooted them on, and who support them in all they do. The coaches and staff, who are dedicated to making every play count. The band and cheerleaders with their team spirit and unswerving devotion. All of these workings are what make a winner. But there’s one person—one Most Valuable Player—who shined far above the expectations of anyone else by far.”

He glances about the room, nodding his head at all of us. “This person, this year’s winner, is quite unexpected. At the onset of the season, I never would have thought this person would have even been in the running for MVP. However, the situation sometimes defines the individual. This person overcame all obstacles thrown in their way. Someone who showed up for every game, played their heart out, and never said they were too tired to participate or gave up. They inspired their teammates and the entire PHS community with their tenacity, perseverance, and intestinal fortitude. Bravery in the face of adversity. This person is a role model we should all aspire to be like. This person weathered the storms that life threw their way and came out a victor.”

“Holy crap,” Lora whispers. “Who is he talking about?”

“Not me,” LaShawn notes.

Will shrugs, as do I. He certainly isn’t referring to Daniel.

Who then?

The coach says, “Please join me in giving a round of applause to our most deserving MVP for the Polk High Patriots. Miss Hayley Matthews.”

Lora launches herself onto me in the tightest hug of all time while I’m still trying to comprehend what just happened.

I must be in shock. Or in a coma or something. I can’t move or breathe.

Did he just say
I’m
the MVP?

Gabriel kisses my cheek. “It’s you, Hayley! Go up and get your trophy!”

Oh my God.

Oh. My. God.

The world tilts on its axis a bit, and I’m deafened from all sounds around me due to the hammering of my heart. Gabriel lifts me out of my chair and hugs me to him. He must offer to escort me to the front of the room, because the next thing I know, that’s where I’m headed. Coach Gaither has also motioned to Mom and Dad to join us.