by T. C. Booth
We finish watching the movie in that position. My ribs and cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much. I haven’t used those muscles too much lately. It feels good, and then it hits me. Things may change and we won’t have these moments anymore. The ache inside flares again.
“What’s wrong with you, Gabs?” Brody bumps me with his shoulder. He has called me Gabs since we were in third grade.
I put a forced smile on my face. “I think I ate too much popcorn.”
“Is it still warm out? I haven’t been outside, but Mom says it’s nice.” Sam gazes out his bedroom window. A mix of oranges and pinks are painted across the sky as the sun sets.
“Yes. Do you want to go outside?” Brody jumps up and sends my legs tumbling to the floor.
“My mom won’t let me.” His face droops for the first time tonight.
“I know—let’s climb out onto the porch roof like we used to. We won’t stay out long. Your mom won’t know.” I hop up and make my way over to Sam’s bedroom window. Sam and Brody are right behind me. I shove the gray-and-white striped curtains aside and thrust the window screen up.
“I’ll go first and help you two out.” Brody grabs my shirt sleeve and tugs me out of the way.
“I don’t need help,” I protest. I’ve done this since we were eight years old.
“I don’t either.” Sam joins my protest with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears a frown under his black stocking cap.
Brody ignores us and climbs out the window. I am secretly happy that he’s out there to help Sam.
“Go ahead, Sam.” I offer so that I can be behind to catch him in case he stumbles.
Sam maneuvers his body amazingly well while climbing out the window. I wasn’t sure if he would have the strength. He holds onto Brody until he gets settled on the shingles.
I place both hands onto the window frame and heave my body up and out headfirst. Brody takes my arm while I bring my legs through. The gray shingles feel like a combination of rubber and sandpaper under my hands as I crawl along the roof. I stop when I am next to Sam and sit beside him. Brody settles on the other side of Sam, and the three of us look into the sunset with the spring breeze tickling our faces.
We used to spend many summer evenings on this roof. Sam loves astronomy. He’s wanted to be an astronomer ever since I can remember. He’d tell us that each constellation in the sky tells a story. “It is like the heavens are talking to us,” he’d say. He’s a deep thinker, has always had his nose in stories about Greek myths and other tales of the stars.
I remember the night we snuck out on the roof to identify our made-up constellation in the sky.
“See that bright star?” Sam pointed into the sky. “That is Spica. If you can find that, you can see Virgo.” He then explained how to identify Virgo.
“How did the stars get their names anyway?” I asked, trying to make out the shapes that seemed so easily identifiable to Sam.
“Well, ancient farmers first made up the constellations and stories to go along with the planting seasons.” Sam eagerly relayed the information.
“Let’s find our own constellation and make up a story,” Brody said, lying on the roof with his hands behind his head.
“Yeah. That will be tight.” I agreed. Tight was the “in” word at the time.
“I know. Look at Spica. Below it to the left and the right are two bright stars. If you connected them, they would look like an upside-down v,” Sam said.
“I see it!” Brody sat up. “Let’s name it.”
“Let’s think of a tight name.” I said.
“Spica. Upside-down v…What about Vica?” Sam suggested.
“Yeah, Vica.” Brody smiled. “We have our own secret constellation.”
“Vica guards the entrance to a secret place that holds all the answers of the universe. Our job is to keep it safe from invaders.” Sam’s eyes twinkled as bright as the stars overhead.
“Earth to Gabs.” Brody’s voice brings me back to the present. I turn my head to see two faces focused on me.
“What?” I sit up. The air turns cool, and I realize the sky has darkened.
“I want to change our story,” Sam repeats. I apparently didn’t hear him the first time he said it.
“Okay. What story?” I ask, bringing my eyebrows together.
“Where have you been, Gabs? Our constellation story, Vica.” Brody chuckles.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I want to change the story now that we are older,” Sam explains. “The three stars in Vica represent three friends that stick together. The friends are mixed with others around them, but aren’t broken up. I want to add that the star at the top is the friend who has the support of the other two at the bottom of the constellation. He wouldn’t be held up without them.”
A lump creeps up my throat. I swallow hard in an attempt to wash it back down. Brody’s eyes are positioned on Sam. Sam gazes at Vica in the sky and continues his story. “No matter what happens, the three friends will never be broken apart. They will be together in Vica. The friend that is held up by the other two will forever be positioned to look out for them from above.”
I’m on my back now with my arm crossed over my face. I bury my face into the crook of my arm trying to keep myself under control. I don’t like when people see me cry.
“Are you afraid?” Brody asks in a hushed voice.
“Of dying?” Sam asks. “Not so much anymore. I have accepted it’s probably going to happen. I am more afraid of leaving the people I love behind.”
“Have you thought about what happens to us when we die?” Brody whispers.
Something inside me snaps, and I sit up. “Shut up, Brody!” I yell. “Why would you ask him something like that? What is wrong with you?” My body trembles with anger.
Brody eyes widen. Sam breaks in. “It’s okay, Gabs. I want to talk about this.”
“Well, I don’t!” I roar, jumping to my feet. I attempt to take a gigantic step across both boys and slip. My legs do a horizontal split and I fall backward onto my bottom. My butt hits the edge of the porch roof and I continue my backward motion right off the edge. The hedge below does little to break my fall. I bounce right off it and onto the cold, hard ground. My arm explodes with pain as I land with it underneath me.
Chapter Five
I lie on the ER gurney waiting for my X-ray results. The bustle of bodies outside the door and voices through the ER speakers trigger memories of the day I’ve tried so hard to push out of my mind. The biggest triggers of all are the huge lights that hover over me. They press the rewind button in my mind.
“The poor little thing. She had his head cradled in her arms when the rescuers got to the car. She kept asking him why he wasn’t talking. She said she knew he wasn’t sleeping because his eyes were open.” The woman talked in a hushed voice outside the room with the big lights. I squeezed the teddy bear Nurse Denise gave me. She was nice. She let me put a bandage on the teddy in the same place I have one, on my arm.
“Oh my! That’s the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard,” another woman answered.
“I know it. Most of the blood on her is from her dad. Thankfully, she just has minor cuts and some bruises.”
The ER doctor’s voice interrupts the memory. “It is definitely broken. We’ll put a temporary cast on to allow the swelling to go down. She’ll need to see Dr. Bradley in two days for an assessment of the break and to get a new cast,” he says.
My mom nods. “Thank you, doctor.”
The pain medicine the ER nurse gave me earlier takes effect and eases not only some of the throbbing in my arm, but the memories. My eyelids are heavy and my throat is dry. I try to speak, but my lips won’t move.
My mom shakes her head. “I’ll call your coach. He isn’t going to be happy about losing his starting post player for tournaments tomorrow. Honestly, Gabriella. What were you thinking? Not only did you hurt yourself, Sam could’ve gotten hurt also.” She continues her scolding. Her words
float around in the air above me, not sinking in. Thank you, pain medicine.
****
“Gabs, you’re such a dork.” Sam lies next to me in his bed. My arm is propped between us on a pillow with an ice pack. I talked my mom into letting me spend the day with him. I promised not to do anything careless.
“Falling off of a roof makes me clumsy, not a dork,” I say. My black yoga pants and oversized pink T-shirt make perfect lazy-Sunday clothing. I stretch my legs out next to his and ease down farther onto the pillow.
“All right, you’re a clumsy dork.” He laughs, shaking the bed.
“What-evvv…” I roll my eyes and change the subject. “Google Eddie’s Car Sales. I saw a car there I want for my birthday.” I’ve had my permit since January, so I can take my driving test as soon as I turn sixteen in June. Not that my mom will buy me my choice of cars, but it doesn’t hurt to dream.
“You better not tell Brody you’re crossing into enemy territory,” Sam teases. Brody’s dad owns the only other car dealership in town besides Eddie’s.
“I’m just looking. Don’t tell, though.”
“My lips are zipped.” Sam pinches his forefinger and thumb together and runs his fingers across his lips. He pulls the website up on his laptop that now shares the pillow between us.
“That’s it,” I point to the red Chevy Camaro with black stripes that pops onto the screen.
“Sweet!” Sam exclaims.
“I know, right? Can you see us riding in that this summer with the top off?” I pretend to drive with my good arm.
“You know your mom will never buy that for you.”
“Thanks, Negative Ned.”
Sam shifts his body to face me, then blurts, “I want to go to the spring dance.”
Where did that come from? I search into his big brown eyes. The spring dance is in three weeks, the middle of April. His goal is to return to school in May and finish the year. But the dance?
“What does the doctor say?” I ask.
“We have to take it a day at a time, my immunity is going to be low, blah, blah, blah.” He flaps his hand open and shut. “I don’t care. If I can go to the dance and make it for ten minutes, that is more time than if I don’t go at all. I missed out on a lot of things our last year of middle school because of my cancer treatments. I’m tired of missing out.”
I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “Well, I never thought of you as the dancing type, but it looks like we’re going to the dance.”
A smile spreads across his face. “You going with me?”
“Of course. Somebody’s got to show you how to dance.”
Chapter Six
“Sam’s going to the dance?” Brody walks with me to English class. I haven’t talked with him face to face since my acrobatics off the roof. He sent me several text messages to see if I was okay, though.
“Yeah, he wants to go. I’m going to be his date.” I look up to see Brody’s clear gray eyes set on my face.
“That is so cool.” His dimples deepen as he smiles.
“Yeah, it is,” I agree and return a smile. “Maybe I can find a dress to match my lovely cast.” I wave my purple cast in the air.
Brody pulls a pen from his binder and takes a hold of my arm. “Let me sign it.”
I stop walking and surrender my arm. His dark hair falls forward while he dips his head to write on my cast. His hair looks so soft. I have a sudden urge to touch it. I’m a little stunned at my thought and glad he can’t read my mind. My cheeks warm.
“There.” Brody holds the pen in his teeth and puts the cap back on. “All the talk about Vica reminded me of our made-up symbol. Remember when we used to sign our names with it?”
I inspect the signature. Try not to fall of off any more roofs. Brody ~V~
“Ha!” I give him a shove with my good arm. “Remember when we used to draw our Vica symbol on our arms and pretend we had tattoos?”
Brody laughs. “We were cool, weren’t we?”
“Brody! Wait up,” a female voice interrupts. We both turn to see red hair bounding toward us. It’s Kara. “I want to ask you something,” she informs Brody as she catches up to us.
I remember what she said in the girls’ locker room about asking Brody to the dance. I feel a jab of something in my stomach. It feels like…jealousy. No way. I push the thought aside and don’t stick around to listen. I take off down the hall toward English class.
In my rush to get away, I smack right into an open locker. Its metal door vibrates from the impact of my head. “Ouch!” I rub my forehead and look into the irritated face of the locker’s owner. He glares at me with his blue eyes. An eyebrow ring protrudes from his left blond brow.
“Um, sorry,” I mumble. Why am I sorry? I got the worst of the collision. What’s his problem?
I make it the rest of the way to English safely. Brody slips into the seat in front of me and turns around.
His eyes widen as he sees me. “What happened to your head?”
Instinctively, my fingers run across my forehead and reach a knot. Great. “I had a fight with an open locker,” I say. At that moment, the owner of the ninja locker strolls into English class. He takes one look at me and rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Locker Boy. You have issues,” I say just loud enough for Brody to hear.
My eyes shift back to Brody, who’s laughing. “Give me your cast again. I need to add, ‘Stay away from locker doors.’”
“Shut up.” I nudge his arm.
“We’re going to have a free writing day. Write about anything on your mind. If you feel like writing a story, write one. If you feel like writing poems, do it. You must be writing, though. Get out your laptops, please,” Mrs. Smith announces and takes a sip of coffee from a mug that reads You Can’t Scare Me, I’m a Teacher.
While my computer boots up, I tear out a piece of paper from my binder and write, What did Kara want? I slide it to Brody.
My heart races while I wait for his answer. I wonder if an alien has invaded my body. My reactions to Brody aren’t normal. This jealousy thing and wanting to touch his hair is foreign to me. I’ve never thought of him or Sam as anything other than my buds.
However, in sixth grade Sam and I once kissed each other on a dare during outdoor education. We snuck into the dark shadow of a tree and kissed. It felt like kissing a relative. It was so awkward that we agreed we would never try that again.
Brody slips the paper back on my desk. My heart jumps as I unfold the paper. She wanted me to go to the dance but I said no. A momentary feeling of relief ran through me and then I read further. I already told Rachel that I would go with her.
Ugh! All right, I need to stop it. Brody’s allowed to go to the dance with someone. After all, I’m going with Sam.
Time to focus on my writing. A clanking sound catches my attention. My eyes wander from the blank screen of my laptop to see Jamie, the new girl, in the front row. Her bracelets clatter on the keyboard as she types. She’s so mysterious, staying to herself. I wonder what she did, if anything, to get kicked out of her last school.
My eyes drift down to my purple cast. I look at the Vica symbol and know exactly what I’m going to write about.
My fingers fly across the keyboard. I write about a place where there is no more sickness, no more hurt or death. A place where children don’t lose their parents before they have a chance to know them. A place where young people can live out their dreams into adulthood. Vica is the gate to this wonderful place. You can pass through its upside down 'V' and enter. A tear travels down my cheek as I write about this imaginary land beyond Vica.
Chapter Seven
The doctors are confident that Sam’s cancer is under control but aren’t saying it’s in remission. He feels stronger and determined to go. The news spreads through the freshman class that Sam is going to the dance. I can’t even walk through the hall without someone asking me about it. Everyone seems excited to see him.
I’m at the mall with my mom trying to find a dress. I can’t have
anything too short or too low-cut. Mom’s idea of a nice dress looks like something I would’ve worn to church on Easter Sunday as a little girl. So when she says I should find something green to “accent my eyes,” I grab the nearest purple dress and head to the dressing room.
My reflection in the mirror reminds me of a song I learned when I was little: "The Purple People Eater." The knot on my head has not only swollen in size, it has turned an ugly shade of purple. The thing is so huge it could probably have its own social network following: hashtag Gabby’s horn.
To make things worse, the purple dress I grabbed to try on is strapless. My purple cast looks as if it swallowed my arm and is threatening to work its way up to my shoulder. I need a new plan.
With my mom’s help, I decide on a pale green dress that “complements my eyes.” The dress has thick straps that shimmer with sequins. I’m glad I have another week for the swelling of my horn to go down.
****
“You look amazing.” I run my eyes over Sam when he reaches the bottom of the staircase. A light-green tie hangs down the front of his white dress shirt. He has on black dress pants and a cool white fedora with a black ribbon around the brim.
He bows and does a Michael Jackson spin. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.” He lifts my arm in the air and spins me around in his living room.
“Thank you,” I flutter my eyelashes and pucker my lips. Earlier in the day, my mom paid for me to get my hair done and get a mani-pedi. My sandy brown hair is partly pinned up with curls that dangle on each side of my face. Mom was right about the dress bringing the green out in my eyes. My knot has shrunk and is now a yellowish color that I covered up almost completely with makeup.
“All right, you two. In front of the fireplace. We want pictures.” My mom waves us toward the stone fireplace. “Don’t they look adorable, Marie?”