Five Months Later
I pace back and forth between the tables in some lunchroom, waiting for the final scores to be tabulated. It took until spring for me to get really well, and now that Mom has so much free time she’s become the local school board’s worst nightmare in regard to the school’s cleanliness.
Despite my fears that I wouldn’t make state championships this year because I was stuck in the hospital or just out because of illness … I did. And now it’s up to the judges whether I’ll be a state champion.
Caitlin and Brooke both got to do one big I told you so. They repeat it every chance they get. I never should have introduced them to each other.
Brooke and Jack are both oblivious to what’s going on, Brooke deep in conversation with a fellow debater and Jack lost in another comic. He looks up at me and gives me a weak smile—there was once a time when I would have sat with him. Our friendship, while not the same, is no longer on life support. There were a good two months where it was only Brooke and me hanging out at speech competitions.
My cell phone buzzes in my hands. I’m grateful for the distraction, because without Brooke or someone else, hanging out with Jack doesn’t feel the same.
TUMOR SQUAD—TAKE 3
Caitlin
Results?
Ellie
Are not out yet.
Caitlin
Not state scores.
Read your email already.
Luis
We’re dying over here!!
Veronica
The things you say in a chat called Tumor Squad.…
Luis
I put this chat together, it means I have power.
We talked her into applying.
Caitlin
Practically WROTE HER APPLICATION.
Veronica
I tried, Ellie!
But also …
I try not to feel a pang of sadness that Ryan isn’t in the chat right now. Logically, I know he can’t be tied to his phone all the time, but I want him to be the one telling everyone else to shut up. We have plans to talk later tonight, because despite not living in the same town, I talk to him more than I ever did to Jack.
Ryan was the one who finally convinced me to apply to the summer acting intensive. Like our nights in the Family Care Home he listened to every one of my concerns, and just like at the hospital he told me exactly why I was wrong.
I turn around, ready to do another lap.
Brooke comes up and grabs my phone out of my pocket. “Time to face the music.” Before I can grab it back or stuff my fingers in my ears, she has my phone open and then is screaming, “You got in!”
Relief. Surprise. Adrenaline like I’ve never felt hits me hard. I got in. And then Brooke and I are jumping up and down, screaming. All eyes fixate on us, and I don’t even care, because I got into the summer acting intensive. Maybe it’s not Broadway, but it’s a start.
“I expect to be thanked in your Oscar speech,” Brooke says, one arm slung around my neck, the other motioning toward the crowd that’s gathered as if she’s knighting witnesses.
I do a double take, not sure if I’m losing it or if I’ve been struck by some sort of sudden illness. I wouldn’t rule either out, honestly.
“Ryan?” I ask, pulling out of Brooke’s grasp. “You aren’t—What are you doing here?”
“Not every day your girlfriend makes it to state.” He takes my hand and I can’t help but look down at our joined hands.
He still uses his cane sometimes, the doctors are trying several different protocols, some cancer drugs, some lupus drugs—it’s nothing solid. But it is enough. Some days.
Butterflies of excitement float around in my stomach from getting into the intensive. I’m at state. With my friends. And my boyfriend. I smile at Ryan. My normal may not be even close to anyone else’s definition, but it’s mine.
And those I choose to share it with.