Send Me a Sign (25 page)

I was supposed to be in the treatment stage when I’d feel my best—enough postchemo that I wasn’t vomiting. But I didn’t feel fine. I wanted each day to end so I could go back to bed.

Someone called my cell three times in a row Wednesday night. I knew it was Hil without looking—this was her MO: calling repeatedly because she couldn’t be bothered with leaving messages and waiting for callbacks. I shut my phone off.

The house line rang. Mom came in my room holding it. “Hil’s on the phone—she says your cell’s off. Did you forget to charge it, kitten?” I was sitting at my desk, pretending to do homework but really fighting waves of dizzying fatigue.

I pointed to Jinx in my lap, and Mom walked the phone
over. “It was good talking to you, Hil. I don’t see you anymore! You’ll have to schedule a girls’ night soon. Here’s Mia.”

Mom glowed at me and left. I waited until the door shut, then asked, “What?”

Hillary responded with an equally cheery, “Are you going to be pissed forever or are you going to get over this?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know the answer. “I just can’t believe you’d do that to me.”

“I was testing him for you.” Her voice was sweet as bubble bath and just as slippery.

“You told Ryan you’d sleep with him! That wasn’t for my benefit. Don’t lie to me—I’m not an idiot.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to erase the tension and sweat that was beading there.

Her voice lost its silky persuasion. “Fine! I was an idiot. Is that what you want to hear? I’m the world’s biggest idiot and it was a stupid, shitty thing to do. But I didn’t say I’d
sleep
with him—just kiss him. Not that that’s okay, it’s not—but I would never—you know Lauren’s lying.” Her voice was panic spiked with apology. “I was drunk—so drunk Chris and I actually … I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say.”

“Tell me why.”

“I don’t even really remember. To see if I could? Because he was there. Because he was sad you weren’t and wouldn’t shut up about it. Because he’s more important to you than we are. Because, apparently, I suck as a friend and it makes sense that you would choose him over me.”

“Ryan’s not more important than you guys! How can you
say that?” But as I spoke, I realized how much time I gave him and how little I had left for her. It wasn’t that he was a higher priority; it was that I didn’t have to lie to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around, but really, Ryan hasn’t replaced you. He couldn’t.”

“I miss you. And I made that mistake with Keith—I always chose him over you guys. Then he just left me. I feel like you’re leaving too,” confessed Hil. “And I’m so sorry. Please come back to practice. Don’t let my being an idiot stop you from cheering at the East-Green game.”

“We’ll see.” I was too tired to commit to anything. I left my desk and lay down on top of my comforter. I could put on pajamas and brush my teeth later.

“C’mon. It’s East versus Green! After we’ll all go to the party. I need some Mia time.” Her voice became wistful. “Senior year has sucked so far. I wish we could go back to last year, you know?”

“Yeah.” I had that wish on speed dial.

“Are we okay? There’s not many people I care about hurting, but you’re one of them.”

I paused to gather my thoughts. They seemed so scattered and incoherent.

“Mia, I
need
us to be okay. I need to fix this. Date Ryan.
Please
date him if it will make you happy. But don’t cut me out; I can’t lose you too.”

“We’re okay.” I surrendered, too drained to fight or feel relieved that we weren’t fighting anymore. My whole body felt heavy and achy.

“You’ll be at practice tomorrow and stop avoiding me and sit with us at lunch?”

“I’ll be there,” I conceded as sweat ran into my exhausted eyes, blurring the room. I dropped the phone and settled into an uneasy sleep, praying I would feel more like myself by morning.

Chapter 32

“You know what I thought would be a great idea?” Mom asked as I entered the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I joked. Half joked. I felt like I’d need caffeine, a nap, and a body transplant to make it through the day.

“What? No! That’s full of chemicals and toxins. You shouldn’t mix caffeine with your medications—” She’d gone from chipper to panicked in two seconds.

“I’m kidding. Orange juice is perfect.” I poured myself a glass. “What’s your good idea?”

She gave a quick laugh. “Of course you were joking—you know better. I was thinking we should have a celebratory dinner.”

“What are we celebrating?” I took a large sip of juice to swallow the pills she’d neatly arranged on a tea saucer.

“Your first round of consolidation chemo is over, and everything’s going so well. I’ll admit, Saturday was rough—it was
hard to see you so upset. But you worked through it and everything is fine. I’m so glad you still get to be a normal teen.”

I painted on a smile as I bit my lip to trap the swears I was mentally screaming. Normal teen? When? When I was lying to my friends, napping in the nurses’ room, or dressing to avoid exposing my port? Or was it the wig, pallor, and nausea that made me normal?

Just thinking this made the room spin.

“Nothing elaborate—I don’t want you overdoing it. Just me, Dad, you, and Ryan. You can invite Gyver if you want too.”

“Ryan and Gyver don’t really mix.”

“That’s too bad.” Her sincerity was undermined by how quickly she moved on. “I’ll make dinner reservations at Chez Bleu and we’ll all dress up and go.”

“When?”

“How about tonight? Tomorrow you’re busy with East versus Green, and Saturday you’re going to be recovering from East versus Green.”

I looked at Mom’s eager face. This was important to her, and the sooner we did the dinner the better, because if I gave her a week she’d rent a banquet hall and book a DJ. “Sounds fun. You can ask Ryan when he comes to pick me up.”

“Do you have something to wear? If not, we can delay a few days and go shopping.” Her eyes brightened at the prospect.

“No, I’ve got the perfect dress. I’m going to get in the shower.”

“I’m excited about this—are you?” She hugged me and
touched the scarf I’d tied around my head. “You’ll wear your wig, of course. You only wear these things in the house, right?”

I nodded and backed out of the room.

I fell asleep in the shower—something I hadn’t realized was possible until I woke up sliding down the tile wall and had to make a slippery grab at the shower curtain. It tore free of two of the metal rings. I was too dizzy and disoriented to care. I wrapped up in a towel and lay on my bed, dripping and sudsy. It was eleven minutes before I could summon the energy to sit up and towel off, another two before my head cleared enough to stand and lurch to the dresser for clothing.

When I came downstairs, Ryan was in the kitchen eating oatmeal and nodding at Mom as she blathered. “Maybe there’ll be a pianist at Chez Bleu. I love a good pianist, don’t you?”

Ryan struggled to keep a straight face as he swallowed a scoop of oatmeal. “Absolutely.”

I rolled my eyes behind Mom’s back. His smile widened and she turned to see the cause. “Oh, kitten, Ryan’s free tonight! I already called Chez Bleu and left a message to call me as soon as they open. I’ve got to pick up your father’s blue suit from the cleaners and maybe buy him a new tie. I wonder if I’ll have time to get a mani/pedi over lunch. How are your nails? Do you want me to wait and we can go together after school?”

“No, go at lunch. I may want a nap after practice.” I meant it as a hint not to go overboard, to alert her that I wasn’t feeling a hundred percent, but she barreled on.

“Okay. Maybe I’ll call Christine’s Bakery and reserve a
cake or pie. What types of pie do you like, Ryan? Mia, eat something.”

I scooped oatmeal into a bowl, adding liberal amounts of raisins and honey, but even doctored up, it wasn’t appealing. My stomach clamped around the first bites I forced down.

Mom prattled, Ryan smiled politely while poking me under the table, I pushed oatmeal around my bowl. Until I looked at the clock. “Ryan, we’re going to be late.”

Just as I was about to write her off as frivolous, Mom surprised me with her parting comments. “We need this, kitten. A reason to be excited, I mean. You’ve been gloomy and out of sorts this week—it’s affecting us all. Could you get excited about this and perk up?”

My eyes widened at her observations, but years of practice summoned a smile to my lips. “Of course, Mom. You’re right, this is a great idea—I can’t wait!”

“Great. Now have a good day at school, both of you.” She touched the tip of my nose with a finger. “Tonight’s going to be perfect. Wait and see.”

Climbing out of the car made the school parking lot tilt. I clung to Ryan as my vision spun.

He held me and laughed. “I’m usually the one convincing you it’s worth it to be late. Not that I’m complaining …”

My forehead was beaded in sweat and my stomach churned,
but I felt steadier. I let go of his arm and took my book bag from his hand. “I just stood up too fast.”

“Sure,” he teased, his hand curling around my waist, thumb threading through a belt loop on my jeans. “We both know you find me irresistible.”

I smiled and started up the steps. “Completely irresistible. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all.” He opened the school door, then paused when he saw who was waiting on the other side. He’d taken a forget-about-it attitude with Hil, but they were awkward. “Oh, hey.”

She nodded to him and turned to me. “Can I have a minute? I brought you a mocha.”

Her question and caffeinated bribe conveyed her guilt; I needed my actions to speak as loudly. I unhooked Ryan’s thumb from my waistband.

“Sure. I’ll see you later, Ryan.” I wobbled as I stepped away from his supportive arm and took the cup. “Thanks. I missed breakfast, so perfect timing.”

She smiled tentatively. “We’re still okay?”

“Yes.” My voice was breathless and tired.

“Good. Come over before the game tomorrow? I need some us time. We can talk about everything
but
boys. And if you really want to talk about Ryan or Gyver too, I suppose I’ll allow it.”

“Gyver?” His name felt like a knife twist. He was still barely acknowledging me—but she couldn’t know that.

Still, the look Hil gave me had some hidden significance. “I’ll take that as a yes, you’ll come,” she said, then enveloped
me in a hug and her musky perfume. It made my stomach flip and I splashed mocha all over the floor tiles.

I hugged her back with limp arms as the late bell rang.

“See you at lunch,” Hil commanded, dashing down the hallway.

I wanted to slump to the floor and rest my head on my knees. The tile looked inviting and cool; the hallway was silent in the moments after the late-bell scramble.

Fatigue and lethargy kept me planted for a minute before I dropped the cup in the trash and shuffled into French. I mumbled, “
Je suis désolée
,” to Madame Simone. She nodded and I stumbled clumsily against my desk.

“You okay?” Meagan leaned across the aisle to ask.

“Yeah.” But I didn’t feel okay. Hil’s perfume had made me queasy. I concentrated on the verbs Madame Simone wrote on the board, but they spun. I focused on the corner of my book, but it warped. My stomach lurched again, and so did I—out of my desk and out of the classroom.