Send Me a Sign

by Tiffany Schmidt

  “Sorry. I got cold.”

  “You must be my good-luck charm. I didn’t score after you were gone.”

  “Me? Good luck?” I choked. My fingers sought my own lucky charm and twirled the chain. I searched my room for signs to indicate what those words could mean and found nothing.

  “So, did I change your mind?” The laugh he tacked on sounded nervous.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “No? Come on—that kiss didn’t feel like a no to me.”

  I could feel the blush creeping up my neck. I was twisted into guilty knots. I needed Ryan’s kisses and confidence boosting as much as I needed Gyver’s friendship. And he was the guy Mom wanted for me, the guy my friends wanted for me, even Hil, once she got over this stupid pact. “Ryan, I like you. You know I do.”

  “But?”

  “But I was flattered today—and also embarrassed. I don’t want to play games. And right now I really don’t want to be the center of attention.”

  “I wasn’t playing games and I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I was just showing you I mean it. I’m crazy about you—and I don’t care who knows it. How about after you cheer at tomorrow’s game, we go out, just you and me? No spectacle, I promise. Just us.”

  I wanted to believe him. One date. How much damage could that really cause? If I turned him down after that, at least I could say I’d tried.

  I flipped my Magic 8 Ball over: Signs point to yes.

  “One date,” I agreed.

  Chapter 23

  Gyver was quiet in the car on the way to school the next morning, so quiet I dozed lightly until we pulled into a parking space. We were both avoiding any conversation about what almost happened in my bedroom on Wednesday and the avoidance seemed to swallow all possible words.

  Ryan was waiting for me, leaning against the trunk of his car and smiling. He stepped over and opened my door for me. “Good morning, gorgeous. ’Sup, Russo.”

  “Hey.” His eyes flicked down to Ryan’s hand around my waist and back to my face.

  “Hi.” I was clutching my necklace and trying to prioritize my last day in school before next week’s chemo: I needed to smooth things over with Gyver, I had to talk to the girls, I needed to collect all my schoolwork for next week—hopefully I’d only be gone a week—and I had to figure out the right lies to cover my absence.

  Gyver first. I smiled at him. “Thanks for the ride. Are you around tomorrow? Let’s do breakfast before I check in.”

  “Check in?” His eyes narrowed. Ryan responded by pulling me closer. Neither was a good sign, but I didn’t have the energy for their stupid macho competitiveness.

  “I told Ryan about my cancer. He knows I’m going back to the hospital.”

  There was more than shock on Gyver’s face. Was it confusion, betrayal, or pain?

  Ryan was calm. He clapped his free hand on Gyver’s shoulder—perhaps a little harder than necessary. “Thanks for being there this summer—when I couldn’t be. I appreciate it, man.”

  “I didn’t do it for you,” Gyver snarled.

  “I know, but still, thanks.”

  Gyver looked at me; I studied my shoes. “Breakfast sounds good. I’ll see you in math class, Mia.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed into the building.

  “I think he liked being the only one who knew,” Ryan said.

  “He’s just not a morning person.” I watched Gyver’s back disappear through the school doors.

  “Apparently. Well, at least we can count on Ally for some OMGs about our date. What did the rest of them say? Do I need to stay away from Hil’s claws?”

  “I didn’t tell them.” It hadn’t even occurred to me and now I felt like an idiot. A slightly panicked idiot.

  “Really? Aren’t you four psychically connected?”

  The joke fell flat because it used to be true. Maybe if I wasn’t busy lying to them, debating whether to lie, and being exhausted by the reason for the lies, maybe then the Calendar Girls would know about the date.

  “Did you tell anyone?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Chris. Was I not supposed to?” We were at the top of the steps and Ryan opened the door. Chris was waiting for us—with Hillary and Lauren. “Shit,” he said under his breath.

  “Mia, do you have beer-flavored panties or something? Because I never thought I’d see this guy whipped!” Chris jumped on Ryan’s back, and I stepped away to avoid being trampled.

  “You mean it’s true?” Hil latched onto my arm and shook me. “I told Chris he must be lying because I’d know.”

  Lauren watched the boys, but her words were for me. “You would’ve told us, right?”

  “I didn’t plan it, it just kinda happened. And then it was late.”

  “It was late? That’s your excuse?” Hil’s face was pinched with hurt. “I can’t believe I had to find out from Chris.”

  “So it is true?” Ally’s feet hadn’t stopped sliding on the floor, but her arms were already around me—crashing me into Lauren, who laughed and joined in the hug.

  She turned to Hil. “See? We weren’t pressuring her into anything she didn’t want to do.”

  Hil rolled her eyes and sighed. “So much for Single Senior Year. I guess if you’re happy …”

  “We’ll do a toast tonight!” said Ally.

  “Definitely! I can’t remember the last time you came out,” Lauren added. I could. Every detail. What I was wearing and the song that was playing when Gyver showed up and dragged me out.

  “Wait. I’m still single.” Wasn’t I?

  “See! I told you, Chris. You’re full of bullshit.”

  Chris raised his palms in an I’m-innocent gesture. “Ryan said—”

  “I said I was taking her out after the game.” Ryan carefully extracted me from the crush of girls. “Give it a rest, Hil. Mia’s a big girl and can make her own decisions. You’d know this if you’d quit bitching long enough to hear her.”

  When had people stopped listening when I spoke? It used to be I opened my mouth and had an audience, now they needed to be prompted to pay attention. And, ironically, Ryan used the same argument on Hil that she’d used on Ally and Laur yesterday: that what I wanted should matter more than what she wanted for me.

  I finally had the floor, but I had nothing to say, so I repeated myself with an added dash of attitude. “I’m still officially single. Calm down.”

  “Not for long,” quipped Chris, draping an arm around Hil’s shoulders. “How ’bout you follow your brilliant friend’s example and go out with me?”

  She shrugged him off. “Shut up and go away.”

  The first bell rang.

  “It’s one date. I haven’t broken the pact.” I bit back the words “stupid,” “idiotic,” and “dictatorial,” all of which threatened to sneak into the sentence.

  Hil’s eyes narrowed, like she’d heard them anyway. Or maybe in response to it being five against one. “Yet,” she growled, the heels of her boots clicking on the tile as she stormed down the hallway.

  Hil was still angry at lunch. She was like fireworks: beautiful, volatile—and potentially dangerous. “So, you and Ryan,” she mused as I sat down. “Well, since I slept with him freshman year, I guess I can’t say you have bad taste.”

  I could play this game. “He could make a good boyfriend. He really wants this.”

  “By this, do you mean sex? You still haven’t, right?” asked Lauren. I rolled my eyes and she added, “Just checking! I mean, you didn’t tell us you were going to be absent Wednesday or your Ryan news. Who knows what else you’re holding out on us?”

  “Or what other promises you’ll break,” muttered Hil.

  “It’s one date, Hil. Drop it.” She did, and the table became quiet, making the looks Hil and Ally were exchanging even more obvious.

  “About tonight …” Ally played with her pretzels, lining them in rows on her lunch bag. “Coach Lindsey called a captains’ meeting after school—I think she’s going to suggest some changes.”

  �
�Like?” I asked.

  Ally exchanged a do-I-have-to? look with Hil. “Like moving Emily up from the JV squad.”

  “Did someone get hurt?” I hadn’t heard anything or seen lockers decorated with “Get Better” balloons.

  Hil answered me. “We’ve given Emily your spot in lifts. It’s only the third week of school and you’ve missed four practices. Just rest up until you can tumble again.”

  Shame colored my cheeks. I’d gone from our best tumbler to an afterthought: a girl who’d step aside and clap when flyer stunts were performed. A sign I was replaceable. “Oh.”

  Ally looked closer to tears than I was. “It’s the best thing for the whole squad. It’s Coach Lindsey’s decision, but we thought it’d be better if you heard it from us.”

  “You okay?” asked Lauren.

  “Clearly she’s not. Mia, I’m not sure what’s going on, but you’ve looked like crap since you got back from Connecticut.” This was Hil’s invitation to confide, but I couldn’t accept it.

  “I’m fine. Thanks for your concern and I’m sorry about cheerleading, but I don’t need any more crap about Ryan, or being sick, or how awful I look!”

  Ally flinched and Hil’s scowl intensified, but Lauren spoke first, diffusing the anger by deflecting attention. “That is so unfair! Mia looks worse than usual—no offense—and she ends up with Ryan Winters. I lose three pounds and no one even notices.” She frowned at her apple and waited for us all to compliment her, which we did.

  “Do you think Bill’s brother will be at the party tonight? He’s …,” she continued.

  I tuned her out and took stock of the past forty-eight hours: I’d agreed to a date but lost my spot on the squad. I’d confided in Ryan but alienated Gyver. If I were Dad, I’d create a T-chart with these facts, but what conclusions could I draw?

  Chapter 24

  “I hate when they have captains’ meetings,” Lauren griped while driving me home after school. “It’s like advertising: hey Lauren, you weren’t picked to be captain, so you can just head out while the important people stay. And it sucks about your spot. If I were captain, I’d fight for you.”

  I didn’t care at all—but I knew I should, and before cancer I cared quite a bit.

  “Want to come in and hang out until the game?” I offered instead of agreement.

  In the kitchen I hunted through the cabinets. “Want some hummus and crackers? Or we have ice cream, but it’s made from tofu.”

  “That’s okay, I probably shouldn’t anyway.” Lauren grabbed a water and headed to my room. I swallowed my meds and followed, hoping there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around.

  Except when I entered my room and found her sitting at my desk paging through the magazine Gyver’d read, I was almost disappointed. It’s not like I wanted her to be trying on a hospital bracelet or reading a chemo pamphlet, but a sign I should tell her or a situation where it was unavoidable—maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. Ryan had handled it.

  “You’re staring at me. Is my hair huge and frizzy? I swear I look like a Chia Pet half the time.”

  “What?” I laughed. “You’re ridiculous. I love your hair.”

  “Sure. Now sit and tell me all about Ryan. I want to hear everything.”

  My eyes drifted over the bed, pillows in clean cases since I’d sobbed all over the others. My throat tightened. I couldn’t think of a plausible lie, and I didn’t want to. I was sick, she was my friend; I deserved her support, she deserved the truth.

  Lauren sat next to me on the bed. She put an arm around my shoulder and used her other hand to untangle mine from my necklace. “Hey, there’s something going on, isn’t there? You can tell me, you know.”

  So I did.

  For the second time this week I turned my bedroom into a confessional. Lauren didn’t sob or bolt, just turned so pale her freckles stood out like ink spatter. She hugged me tightly while I explained, then paced while asking questions.

  “Who else knows? Did everyone but me?”

  “No. Not at all. Just Ryan and Gyver.”

  “You didn’t even tell Hil?” Lauren sounded shocked, then answered herself, “Well, duh you didn’t. She wouldn’t be acting so bitchy if she knew. Oh, Mia, I’m glad you told me. I can’t imagine how hellish this summer must’ve been. I would’ve been an excellent hospital visitor, you know.”

  “You can prove it—I go back tomorrow for more chemo.”

  The color that had started to creep back into her cheeks faded. “More? It’s not done?”

  “Not even close. I’ve got a new round every six to eight weeks.”

  “Then I’ll be there.” She stooped to hug me again. “We’ll do movies and manicures and I’ll make it fun.”

  “Thanks.” I exhaled this tension and inhaled the stress of my next challenge. “How do you think I should tell Ally and Hil?”

  Lauren dropped onto my bed in a tangle of limbs only gymnasts and cheerleaders can accomplish. “Oh … so you are going to tell them?”

  I was surprised by the sniff of disapproval in her voice. “Well, yeah. Shouldn’t I?”

  She exhaled slowly, motionless for once. “Honestly?” Even her voice was slow, like an idea was coming into focus and she couldn’t quite make it out. “I don’t think you should yet.”

  “What?”

  “Not right away, at least.” And then she was back up to manic speed. “It’s just that Hil is still totally worked up over the Keith thing. She’s about one stressor away from tearing someone’s head off or locking herself in her room. Did she tell you he texted her again this weekend?”

  I shook my head. I guess I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

  “All it said was: I miss you, which is totally unhelpful, since last week he posted all these pictures of him with other girls on Facebook. He’s such a toolbox. She can’t handle this right now. And if you tell Ally …”

  “Everyone will know,” I finished.

  “Well, yeah.” She unwound her arm from around her ankle. “It sucks. And, I mean, this is just my opinion; you do what you think …”

  I grabbed a tissue to wipe my eyes. “No, I think you’re right. Once Hil’s in a better place, Keith-wise …”

  “And I know we’re not as close as you and Hil, and I can’t replace her or anything, but I’m here for you.”

  That’s when the real sobs came. Mine first, then Lauren’s. Until I looked at the clock. “We need to be back at school in thirty minutes.”

  “Then we need some deep breaths and some serious cover-up if we don’t want to show up looking like we spent the afternoon watching The Notebook.”

  I laughed.

  “You know, that’s exactly what we’ll tell Hil if she says anything about puffy eyes. Then she’ll be too disgusted by our sappiness to give it a second thought.”

  “I’m glad I told you, Laur. Thanks.”

  She handed me a tissue and squeezed my hand. “You’re welcome, but no more sappy. We’re done with sappy for today. Now it’s dance music and get ready for the game time.”

  “Deal,” I answered, sticking my iPod on its speakers and dialing up the volume.

  Chapter 25

  That night I cheered with enthusiasm, fueled by the fact I’d be missing at least a week of practices for chemo and because I needed to prove I belonged. I loved this. In all my efforts to hide my cancer, I’d forgotten. I loved this: the camaraderie of the squad, the energy of the players, the excitement of the crowd, the thrill of feeding off that buzz.

  When the game went into overtime and Hil grumbled about the party, I just rustled my purple-and-gold poms and began an impromptu cheer, encouraging the crowd to join my chant: “Let’s go, East Lake!”

  My cheer high floated me through the game and through Hil’s postgame snark: “I can’t believe you’re blowing us off for Ryan. I don’t want you devastated if you sleep with him and he dumps you.”

  “It’s not like that, Hil.”

  “How do you know?” she dem
anded. “He’s going to break your heart.”

  “He’s not Keith, okay? He’s Ryan. Thanks for worrying about me, but it’ll be fine.”

  I gave her a hug; she returned it before adding, “But if he does, don’t go the chocolate route or you’ll look like crap at the Fall Ball.”

  I peeled the purple star stickers from the corners of my eyes and shoved my poms in my locker. Calling “Have fun tonight” back over my shoulder before heading to where Ryan waited by the gym door.

  “Hey, you.”

  “Hi,” I answered, feeling shy and nervous.

  It was chilly now that I wasn’t flitting around under the stadium lights, but Ryan responded before I had time to shiver. He stepped behind me, rubbing my arms. “Longest. Game. Ever.” He took my hand and towed me to his car.

  I felt twelve again, flush with the excitement of liking and being liked. Except when I was twelve, I hadn’t felt quite this way about the still-hadn’t-mastered-deodorant boys in my class.

  He started the ignition before he shut his door. “You’re freezing.”

  “I’m better already.” I slipped cool hands beneath his shirt: warming them, kissing him.

  He turned the heat on high and I leaned in again. Now that the car had heat, I was in no rush to leave our out-of-the-way space in the school parking lot.

  “Oh, hang on a sec.” Ryan reached into the backseat and grabbed a bottle of Listerine.

  “Your breath is fine.” I laughed.

  “No, look, it kills germs—see?” He spun the label facing me. “I thought it might help. I know you can’t be around germs.”

  It was a struggle not to laugh. Or cry. I’d forgotten I was sick—he hadn’t.

  He opened his door and spit the mouthwash on the cement. “Are you hungry? We missed our reservation.”

  Ryan’s eyes were on my lips and I’d barely managed “not really,” before his were on mine.

  “Me either,” he added as he kissed down my jawline.

  I shivered and he froze. Pulled back and looked worried. “You’re cold. I’m an idiot.”

  “What? No. That’s not why—” I hadn’t been cold, but now, with him looking at me like I might fall to pieces, reaching out to pull my shirt down so it covered instead of uncovered, I felt icy.