The Secret Journal of Brett Colton

by Kay Lynn Mangum

  Before I fell asleep, I put on the Rubber Soul album and watched you sleep. There’s something about being told you’re not going to be around forever that makes you think about everything in a totally different way. At first, I kept telling myself this sickness couldn’t be happening to me. Not me! I’m in good shape. The best. I’m a football player, for crying out loud! I still have days when I scream inside my head: ”This can’t be real—my own body can’t be killing me!”

  But I’m not giving up. And I’m getting serious about my schoolwork. My next report card is going to have all “A’s.” So with that thought in my mind, and with you safe and cozy at my side, I fell asleep happy. When I woke up, you were already awake, and you smiled at me. At me! I’m the first person you’ve truly smiled at. I had to yell for everyone to come see. Of course, Sam wasn’t thrilled about getting dragged out of bed so early. Still, you made my day . . .

  November 24

  Dear Kitty,

  The team didn’t do so well in the playoffs, so although we won region, there won’t be any state championship title this year. Dr. Grenville started me on another course of chemotherapy, so I’m back in the hospital, which means I’m puking with regularity again. Kelly called me on the phone after the game and told me the team lost because our backup quarterback was too nervous to play with a straight head. It’s hard to care much about anything when you’re sick up to your eyeballs. I miss you, though—I miss you so much! I have a picture of you, framed, by my hospital bed, but it’s not as good as having you by me. I have to be home by Christmas—that’s the only goal I’m concentrating on. I have to be there for your first Christmas.

  I can’t believe it’s Thanksgiving already. It feels so weird not to be home, stuffing my face with turkey. I never thought I’d miss being a part of our family’s Thanksgiving, but I do. I hate being here with I.V.s dripping their puking potions into me, sucking more life out of me than they’re putting in. So I’ve been lying in bed thinking about everything, missing everyone, especially you, and feeling sorry for myself. And then, I remembered today’s Thanksgiving, and I thought of everything in my life that I’m thankful for, like my family and friends. Kelly comes and visits me all the time, except when I’m off limits from chemo. If he can’t see me, he calls. He’s the best. I’m trying to concentrate on the good stuff in my life and not to forget to notice everything. Even little things. Don’t ever forget to notice the little good things in your life, because sometimes they’re the most important things—the things that help you hold on and keep going . . .

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I’d wanted to keep myself cloistered in my bedroom all day Sunday, but when Sam, Stephen, and Curtis and then Alex and Julie showed up late in the day, Mom dragged me out, forcing me to join in all the family fun. I ignored Mom’s questioning looks, since I was sure she was dying to ask about my letter from Brett, and from Dad’s meaningful looks at her, I was just as sure he had told her to leave me alone. I had no idea whether she knew anything about Brett’s journal. All I knew was that I wasn’t about to discuss it with anyone right now. So instead, I curled up in one of the recliners in our living room and just let the conversation flow around me.

  And then Brett’s name was mentioned.

  Sam told a story I’d heard a million times before about how hysterically funny Brett had been in Central High’s performance of Once upon a Mattress and the stunts he’d pulled on stage to keep the other actors jumping and the audience roaring with laughter. Only this time, something was different. Something inside me felt different. It was hard to explain—

  “What? No snide comments from Kathy? No eye-rolling?” Sam was watching me—studying me, really—her Brett Moment memory apparently finished.

  I shrugged and ignored the looks everyone gave me. “Whatever,” was all I had to offer.

  “Well, well, well. Miracles do happen. Even in these nonbiblical times.” Sam raised her eyebrows at me over Curtis’s head while she bounced him around on her lap. I was going to say something clever back, but Alex cut me off before I could open my mouth.

  “So how was the dance last night, Kathy? Did you have a good time?”

  “I did.”

  Dad winked and grinned. “I’ll bet you were definitely noticed at the dance!”

  “Or at least that dress she wore certainly was.” Mom gave me one of her disapproving looks that I chose to ignore.

  “Speaking of—if I didn’t say so before, Sam, thanks for helping me get ready.” Sam looked up in surprise from babbling away at Curtis. “You know—doing my hair and makeup and all that. It was very un-Sam-like of you.” Everyone had a good laugh at that. Even Sam laughed a little.

  “Thanks. I guess.” Sam raised her eyebrows.

  I grinned. “You’re welcome. I guess.”

  Everyone laughed again. Comfortable laughs. Mom smiled at me and twirled her gold locket around her fingers. I decided to shock everyone by staying in the living room for ice cream and cookies instead of hibernating in my room some more. And when Brett’s name came up again, I didn’t say anything. This time, I didn’t even tune the memory out. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I let myself smile a little while Brett Moments were passed around for the rest of the evening.

  ~

  December 10

  Dear Kitty,

  When I first got this journal from Dr. Grenville, I had no idea how grateful I’d eventually be for it. It’s kind of like getting a sweater for Christmas. It doesn’t seem like that amazing of a gift until there’s a really cold, miserable day, and then, boy, you can’t stop being glad someone thought to give you that sweater.

  It is so great to be able to clear my head and just talk to you through this journal. You’re the only person who doesn’t treat me like I’m a piece of really thin glass, ready to break into a million pieces at the slightest nudge. When I’m with you, I can almost believe I’m not sick. Not only that, but I forget to feel sorry for myself. I’ve been trying to imagine what you’re going to be like when you’re older, but then I try to imagine you walking, and right now, that day seems incredibly far away. Still, you’re really strong. I bet you’ll learn how to do everything fast. I’ve been trying to teach you how to hold your bottle, but I guess you’re not ready yet. Sam laughed in my face watching me try one afternoon. She was all, “Good grief, Brett, she’s barely two months old!” Yeah, well. We’ll show her.

  The only thing I’m really having a hard time with is changing your diapers. My chemo medicine makes me feel sick enough without doing something that would make the healthiest person in the world puke, but I’m trying to get over it. When I do change you, my hands won’t stop shaking. I know I’m going to harpoon you one of these days with the pins. But I’ll get the hang of it. I’m just sorry money’s so tight we can’t buy disposables. Those look more comfortable than the cloth ones. But speaking of diapering, did we have fun with the baby powder today or what?! I thought for sure I had a good grip on the can—but then it slipped and powder was all over you and everything else! You smiled and waved your arms around as if you were having the time of your life, so I had to take a picture of you. The abominable snow baby.

  Today was definitely a good day. One of those days when I almost forget I’m sick. But that’s easy to do with you around. I always feel a hundred percent better when you’re with me.

  Even though I’m feeling a lot better lately, sometimes at night when I can’t fall asleep, I start thinking about this sickness I have, and I get scared. For the most part, I try to ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist, but most of the time there’s this little annoying part of me that’s scared. If I dare say that to someone and talk about it, I’m afraid it will get so big it will take me over. I don’t want anyone—especially the family—to know I’m scared. Besides, I can’t talk to Dad. I’ve tried to joke with him to get a reaction out of him—something—anything—but I can never get more than one-word answers, nods, or grunts out of that stone face.

  And then th
ere’s Mom. Total opposite. She explodes over everything I do, enough for two people. Most likely it’s to make up for Dad. And she laughs—she loves to laugh at everything I say and do. I guess she thinks she needs to laugh for Dad, too. Since I got sick, though, she smothers me more than she ever did before. So where Dad’s a statue, she’s a mass of high-strung emotion, so I can’t talk to her, either. I’d probably just send her over the edge. And I can’t saddle Alex and Sam or Kelly with this. They have no clue what it’s like to deal with what I’m dealing with every day. It’d freak them out too much if I turned to them for help. So it’s only you I can really talk to, Kitty. But don’t worry about anything. Everything’s going to be fine. As long as I act like I’m okay, everyone else will be, too. If I don’t, I know they’ll all fall apart, and I don’t think I could handle seeing that happen . . .

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Now, Kathy, let’s try your scene today without your script. Don’t worry—I’ll prompt you when necessary, but I think you’ll be surprised at how much you already know.”

  As stressful as my private tutoring sessions with Miss Goforth were, it was actually a relief to have an hour a day when I didn’t have to be me, and instead I had the rare privilege of stepping into another person’s shoes for sixty whole minutes. I threw myself into the character with so much gusto that I almost scared myself into thinking I really was her. I was so into the moment that I’d been stretched out on a table for the dramatic ending of my scene, lying there for maybe a full minute, before I realized it’d been stone quiet for that entire minute.

  “Hey.” I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the table. “Did I just get through the whole thing?”

  Miss Goforth was studying me. “Yes, you did. I didn’t have to prompt you once.”

  “Wow, I can’t believe I’ve finally got all the lines memorized!” I was so excited I clapped my hands together and did my own little cheer for myself.

  “Yes, you do have your lines memorized. Finally. But you’ve accomplished much more than that, Kathy.”

  I stopped congratulating myself to stare at Miss Goforth. “I have?”

  Miss Goforth smiled. “Yes, you have. Indeed, I could almost believe you were the character today. Don’t let your head inflate. You still need polishing, especially in your enunciation, but the emotion is there.”

  “Well, I guess I must have the Colton talent for drama after all!” I gloated.

  “Yes, I suppose you do, but it’s more than that. You definitely possess some natural talent for acting, which is satisfying to find in you after digging for results for so long.” Miss Goforth walked across the floor and climbed the few stairs of the stage to stand directly in front of me. She looked hard into my eyes. “Keep going, Kathy. You’re doing an amazing job already.” Before I could beam for too long, she turned away abruptly and walked back down the stairs, casually throwing over her shoulder, “Now, if you could please put that same energy into poor Cordelia for your King Lear scene, I’m sure your classmates wouldn’t indulge in the temptation to have you share Cordelia’s sad fate.”

  ~

  I hadn’t meant to end up standing at this particular spot after school, but Mom was late picking me up for my adventure at the DMV for my first, and hopefully last, attempt to get my driver’s license. But here I was, where I seemed to find myself more and more often these days. I could’ve waited outside, but after I gave one casual glance over my shoulder, my feet refused to move on past the trophy case. Brett’s trophy case. His picture was still there, as it always likely would be, still grinning away as if he was extremely pleased with himself. As he likely was. Is—

  “I knew I’d find you here.”

  Jason. He had an incredibly annoying, uncanny ability to make me jump sky high and get my heart racing in a matter of about one second. Today was no exception, considering the fact that he’d practically put his lips against my ear to speak.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” I shoved him hard, but he only laughed.

  “Hey, I wasn’t sneaking!”

  I folded my arms and tried to frown. “You made absolutely no noise whatsoever until you were practically standing on top of me. What would you call it?”

  “I made the normal amount of noise I always do walking down a hall. A carpeted hall, by the way. You’re just lost in space somewhere and didn’t hear me. Like in English today.”

  “Whatever.” Jason looked at me curiously, but I wasn’t about to offer more. “Shouldn’t you be outside with your little football friends? There is a game coming up in a few days. You don’t want to be responsible for making the team lose, do you?”

  Jason raised an eyebrow. “I’m amazed you even care! Does this mean you may actually show up to the game Friday night?”

  “Only if there isn’t anything good on TV.”

  Jason laughed, then I laughed, and then we both just looked at each other. The silence wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable, either. Considering that I wasn’t even moving, it couldn’t be good for my heart to be pounding so hard. And the way he looked at me was bringing back memories of Saturday night—a mere couple of days ago.

  “So, what’s going on?” Jason leaned against the wall by the trophy case and kept his gaze fixed on me. I lowered my eyes from his and made myself breathe.

  “Just waiting for my mom. I’m going for my driver’s license today.”

  “Really? That’s great. I hope you pass.”

  “Yeah, me, too. But we’ll see.”

  Jason lightly punched my shoulder. “Listen to you! You just need to have faith.”

  I shook my head firmly. “Faith. I don’t need faith. I need more driving experience.”

  Jason looked as if I’d just announced I didn’t need air anymore. “What? You always need faith!”

  “Do I? Well, I don’t know about that. In fact, I’m pretty sure I don’t need it.”

  Jason raised his eyebrow again. “Oh, yeah? And why is that?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I believe in what I can see. What I’ve got proof of.”

  Jason shook his head. “Faith is having a belief in something you can’t see. Or in other words, ‘Faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true.’”

  I could sense a religious tangent coming. No one could stop him when he was having one of those. “Look who’s being impressive! Did you make that up all on your own?”

  “Something that good? Of course not. I’m quoting.”

  “Really? Who said it?”

  “Alma. Alma the Younger, to be exact.” Jason grinned.

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Since you think you need to see to believe, I can show you his actual words. In fact—”

  My mom had pulled up in front of the building in her car and was now honking the horn. I couldn’t expose Jason to that for long. “I’m sorry—there’s my ride. Wish me luck!” I threw my book bag over my shoulder and hustled out the door. But Jason wasn’t finished yet.

  “Luck? You don’t need luck. You need faith!”

  ~

  December 20

  Dear Kitty,

  Our family isn’t exactly religious, but we’re not atheists, either, so we do have a dust-covered Bible in the house. I’ve been feeling stronger, but I still have a bad day here and there, and on those days, staring at the TV helps to keep my mind off feeling sick so much.

  There’ve been a lot of people on TV talking about the birth of Christ, since Christmas is almost here, so I snuck out our Bible so I could check up on what the TV was saying about Christ, just to make sure it was all on the level. Especially concerning hearing and answering prayers. That made me stand up and take notice, in a manner of speaking, since I was lying flat on my back on the couch feeling sick the first time it was pounded on by someone on TV. It was strange. As if I was remembering something I’d heard before. Not heard, exactly. Known before. Confus
ing, I know. I was confused myself.

  So there I was, scouring through this old Bible of ours, trying to find passages on prayers, when the doorbell rang. I yelled “Come in,” and in walks Kelly, scraping the snow off his sneakers and complaining about how cold it is. One look at me and the Bible, though, and he stopped in mid-sentence, staring at me as if he’d seen one of his dreams come true.

  Like I told you before, there was something amazing about Kelly that made me want to be his friend. It’s more than the fact that he’s a great guy. I don’t know what it is, but he has something—something I want, but I don’t know what that something is. He’s tried to tell me maybe it’s got something to do with the church he goes to, but after bringing up religion and trying to “teach” me stuff a few times, I had to make him stop and promise he wouldn’t talk about his beliefs unless I asked him to. I thought he’d be offended and hate me after that, but he was cool with it and didn’t bring it up again, and we stayed best friends like always. That happened quite a while ago. Kelly’s a Mormon, and although there’s not a ton of them around where we live, there are enough of them that I’ve heard plenty about their church from people who aren’t Mormons, as well as a few who are, to know all I really want to know. I know how much Mormons like to convert, and outside of celebrating Christmas and Easter, our family’s never gotten into any sort of religious flow. And Kelly knew that, yet here I was, caught red-handed, reading out of the Bible.

  So Kelly said, “I didn’t know you were reading the Bible!” He looked too excited, so I knew I’d have to play this down quick. I tried to act like it was no big deal, but what I really wanted to do was to ask him something personal. He said it was okay to, so I went ahead and asked him if he believed in God. From the thrilled look on Kelly’s face, I had a bad feeling I was going to regret asking, but it was too late now.

  Of course, he said he believed in God. “Heavenly Father” was how he referred to Him. He said he believed in His son, Jesus Christ, too. I figured I might as well ask him some more questions and really make his day, so I asked him if he prays. Kelly said he did, and when I asked how often, he said, “Every day.” When I asked if he thought God heard him, he said, “I know He does.” So I asked him if I prayed, if he thought God would hear me, and maybe even listen to a heathen like me. Kelly smiled at me all reassuring-like and said that in his church, they believe God—Heavenly Father—does hear and listen to everyone, because he’s our Father and He loves all of us. I didn’t know what to say to that, so Kelly asked me if I was going to start praying to Him. I told him I thought it might help. Maybe.