Radiate

by Gibson, Marley

  “Awesome.” I smile at my friend who not only wants to help me, but he’s treating me the same as he always has.

  I sit back and take the syllabus Mrs. Joseph hands to me. Should be an interesting class. There’s poetry from W. H. Auden to William Butler Yeats, drama from Edward Albee to Tennessee Williams; fiction from Kingsley Amis to Virginia Woolf, and expository prose that includes Ralph Waldo Emerson and even Norman Mailer.

  Good. Back to my education. Rounding out my senior year with the last advanced placement classes to impress colleges. I can’t believe how excited I am to delve into all of this reading, analysis of the words, and composition. Same with my economics, French, and other classes. Being back on the terra firma of the PHS school grounds makes me feel much more myself now. I’m the senior, the cheerleader, the normal girl finishing up high school.

  “This should be fun,” Gabriel notes, seated next to me in the second row. “My old school didn’t have the AP classes like here, so I’m glad to get this on my record.”

  “Where do you want to go to college?” I ask quietly as Mrs. Joseph flits about the room.

  Gabriel shrugs. “I want to study engineering, so I have a lot of choices. Cornell, Carnegie Mellon, MIT, Georgia Tech, but those all cost an arm and a leg, which is no surprise.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say. I think Mom and Dad used to have a small savings account for my college fund. However, after my medical bills, I have no idea if any of that is left.

  “I’m applying to a bunch of places for financial aid and scholarships, so we’ll see what happens. Where are you applying?”

  What do I even want to do when I grow up?

  “Bama as my first choice. Miami or maybe UGA as backups.”

  Gabriel grins. “All party schools.”

  “All football schools.” What can I say? Girlfriend loves her college gridiron. Both of my parents went to The University of Alabama, and crimson is in my blood. I want to be a part of that community. As for what I want to do as a career, I guess I need to start figuring that out.

  In good time.

  For now, I’m happy to be one of the many schmucks here at PHS just trying to make it through the day. No more medical drama or feeling sorry for myself. I’m finally where I want to be.

  Mrs. Joseph says, “Let’s start with some Emily Dickinson this morning, why don’t we?”

  Ah... the queen of dashes and unconventional capitalization.

  With that, I’m back in the groove.

  ***

  Last period, I head to the gym, slip into the girls’ locker room, and change into a PHS Varsity Cheerleader tank top and blue shorts. After my meeting with Coach Carnes, he delivers me to the weight-training area and hands me off to an eager Gabriel. He immediately gets me working on some very gentle leg curls for starters.

  “Yikes,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “What?” Gabriel asks, ever much the concerned coach.

  “There’s all sorts of pulling and burning in my left leg.”

  He nods. “Coach Carnes said that’s going to happen. You’re working those muscles for the first time in a while. Trust me, it’s necessary, though, to get you fully back on the road to recovery. Just take it easy.”

  “If you say so,” I say, and concentrate on the exercise.

  A while later—I must have lost track of time—Chloe comes over and jabs her hands to her hips. “If you don’t mind, we need you at cheerleader practice, now that you’re actually here.”

  I slide off the weight machine and reach for my crutches. “Coach Crane has me doing my PT the first fifteen minutes of the period.”

  The captain rolls her eyes. “Okay, well, it’s been twenty. We need you over here now.”

  I turn to Gabriel and nod my thanks.

  He flips Chloe the bird finger behind her back and then laughs. Wish I had the guts to do that to her face. I follow behind her, watching her ponytail sway from left to right as she walks along. I glance down at her shoes and mentally put myself in them for a moment. Sure, Chloe’s a bitch. That’s a well-known fact at PHS. But she also has the responsibility of heading up our squad. It’s not an easy job, especially when a lot of times we’d rather gossip, text, and rest instead of putting our all into the practice and routine.

  I silently vow not to pose any problems for Chloe and make sure I get back up to speed immediately so there’s no further hole in the team.

  The rest of last period, Lora and I work on our partner stunts. With my crutches close by, I focus on putting all of my weight on my right side and only using my left for balance. The first time Lora runs up on my shoulders, I splay out face first on the gym floor.

  “Holy shit!” my partner screams. “I’m so sorry!”

  The other girls freeze in their various positions and Chloe just shakes her head.

  My body groans from every pore, yet I grit my teeth and smile through the pain. I’m laughing instead of crying. “Now you see why my brother and sister call me ‘Grace.’”

  My teammates laugh and go back to their own stunts.

  “Are you really all right?” Lora asks with concern.

  “I’m kosher like a dill.” I’m determined to make this work. I can’t show any signs of weakness; otherwise, Chloe will definitely boot me off the squad. I ignore the pain and get ready to go at it again. “No, no, I slipped,” I say, glancing at the sweaty spot where I landed on the parquet. “Let’s try again.”

  On the third run up, I manage to support Lora’s weight and assist her in performing a perfectly executed star pose—on the right side, of course.

  “Good job, y’all,” Ashlee compliments.

  Chloe claps her hands together. “This is going to be a full and busy week. Practice after school Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. We have a dance routine to learn for the pep rally, signs to make for the game, and spirit prizes to determine from last week’s game.”

  Melanie speaks up. “Did you see Furonda Garrison, one of the majorettes? She was cheering her ass off. She should definitely be up for spirit person.”

  “Totally,” Brittney agrees.

  Funny, I used to win the spirit person prize every now and then. Now I’m helping decide who gets it.

  “Fine with me,” Chloe says. “We’ll discuss it more at practice tomorrow.”

  The captain then turns her cold stare at me. “Are you going to be able to keep up?”

  Someone behind me, possibly Samantha or Lauren, gasps noticeably at Chloe’s snarkiness.

  Thanks for understanding, you insensitive cow. Nope, can’t say that. Instead, I respond “I’m here to do my best and whatever is needed of me.”

  Lora speaks up. “If we’re doing the routine from camp, we can make a few adjustments to accommodate Hayley until she’s completely off her crutches.”

  Chloe’s cell phone rings, and she walks away from the group, dismissing us with a wave of her hand.

  “She’s such a bitch,” Lora mumbles. “You need a ride home?”

  I bite my tongue and reach for my crutches. “Sure, that would be great.”

  I follow my partner out of the gym with my bag slung over my back. Gabriel waves at me from the corner, and I smile back.

  “Look who’s here!” Lora shouts as she holds the gym door open for me. “Uncle Ross!”

  “Hey, Lora!” the older man says. “Hayley, right?”

  “Right. Hi, Ross.”

  “What are you doing here?” Lora asks.

  He pulls off his sunglasses. “I closed a new deal this afternoon with the Muscle Up company. Just doing some PR with all of the local sports teams to drum up some business. Coach Blumentritt over at Maxwell said I should visit Coach Gaither to give some samples to the team. You know, to see if they want to place orders.”

  “Orders for what?” Lora asks.

  Ross dips back into the front of his Hummer and retrieves a huge box with a logo of a ripped bicep on it. “Protein shakes, protein bars, energy drinks.” He sets his sunglasses to
the top of his head. “You think the cheerleaders would want to try any of these products?”

  “What for?” Lora asks.

  He explains. “Protein’s essential for anyone’s diet, but athletes need more than the average Joe to replace nutrition lost during intensive workouts. Your body needs protein to build healthy muscles, bones, and skin.”

  “Maybe Hayley should try them,” Lora suggests.

  Ross smiles. “What a great idea!”

  “Me?”

  “Sure. You’ve got to work on building your muscles after your surgery, right? It’ll help with your stamina and strength. I’m sure my niece isn’t easy to lift up over your head,” he says with a smirk.

  “Uncle Ross!” Lora whines.

  I giggle because he’s right.

  He hefts a box of samples up onto his shoulder. “Where’s your car, Hayley?”

  “Um... I’m riding with Lora.” My mouth drops open. “You’re giving me all that stuff?”

  “Absolutely,” he says with a Hollywood grin. He stashes the box in the back seat of Lora’s BMW convertible. “I’ve got plenty more in the back. It’s all promo stuff. You take this home, read the directions, and protein up!”

  “Isn’t he the coolest?” Lora says, knocking me with her elbow.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  With the help of so many good people, I am definitely not going to need these crutches much longer.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Keep your dreams alive. Understand to achieve anything requires faith and belief in yourself, vision, hard work, determination, and dedication. Remember all things are possible for those who believe.

  —Gail Devers

  Getting around school on crutches and making it to each classroom on time during my first week is a feat, but I do it.

  I’m getting settled in all of my classes and the teachers are starting to treat me like simply another student. I guess they all had to get over the shock of what happened to me and how to “handle” me. Mrs. Kiaurakis, the guidance counselor, sent me an e-mail Tuesday after school telling me she’s “there” for me if I need to “talk.” She referenced having brochures and websites I could read about surviving cancer and rejoining society. Like I left it? Geesh, she’s as bad as Dr. Dykema and his team thinking I would need a bunch of psychiatrists to hash over how I “feel” about having cancer. They cut it out; it’s in a jar; I’m done. End of story.

  The workouts with Gabriel are extra helpful. He’s not easy on me, either; expecting me to follow his directions and training. I started using one of the machines that strengthens the upper body. Turning backwards on the bench, I lift the weights from behind to simulate working with my partner. The weights are set for one hundred and ten pounds, a smidge more than what Lora weighs.

  “Good, Hayley,” Gabriel says, noting the sweat rolling down my face. “You’re doing a great job.”

  I let the weights fall back into place and take the towel he tosses at me.

  “That’s hard as hell.”

  “No pain, no gain,” my friend says.

  I rub my sore arms and wince. “Oh, there’s definitely pain.”

  Gabriel smirks. “The trainer I worked with last year told me to chant ‘hurts so good’ over and over in my head when things get bad. We’re not doing anything too straining on you, Hay, so be patient and go slow. You’ve come a long way in three days. It’s all in the consistency.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Tremblay,” I say with a really serious face.

  He starts laughing, and I throw the towel back at him. Gabriel makes that he’s going to tickle me, and I squeal like the girl I am.

  “What are you doing to my girl, Tremblay?” Daniel asks, sauntering up.

  He’s wearing a tight gray T-shirt that reads “Property of PHS Athletic Department.” He’s all sweaty from some physical activity, and he looks absolutely amazing.

  Gabriel’s mood changes and he clams up. “Workout regimen to get her back in shape.”

  Daniel winks at me. “I like her shape just fine.”

  I really need to stop blushing like all get-out every time he flirts with me. Daniel’s going to think I have rosacea.

  “You have practice after school?” Daniel asks.

  “Yep, and we’re making the run-through sign for the game,” I explain.

  “I’ll give you a ride home after. Okay?”

  “Perfect,” I say.

  ***

  Practice is rough for me.

  The aches.

  The inner moaning.

  The tug of my scar.

  The biting of my tongue so no one knows how much it hurts.

  It’s more physically demanding than my physical therapy.

  I do my best to perform all the dance moves in rhythm to the rest of the girls. Chloe’s got me on the back row. Hide the problem. Cover it up. No one will notice. I suppose she’s right, though. No need for me to be front and center.

  I make it work. I shift my balance to my right side and listen to the beat of the music. I concentrate on the moves and not the pain stretching up and down my leg.

  Punch. Clap, clap, clap.

  Punch. Crunk. Crunk. Crunk.

  Pop. Lock. Pop. Lock.

  Step, step, step. Ouch. Hurts so good.

  Swing left. Swing right.

  Turn. Turn. Lunge. Ouch. Not good.

  Pop. Punch. Crunk.

  Swish to left. Swish to right.

  Clap, clap. Punch, punch.

  Hurts so good.

  Hurts so good.

  “Not bad,” Chloe says to me when we’re done. Then, surprisingly, she adds, “You okay?”

  I struggle to catch my breath. “Um... yeah, thanks.”

  Wow. She actually complimented me.

  Double-wow. She actually showed concern.

  Maybe Chloe does have a soul deep down.

  I don’t take something like that for granted at all.

  My muscles are singing a song of pain and suffering. But, as Gabriel said, “Hurts so good.”

  We get the run-through sign painted—a large sheet with a Patriot bringing a fist down on a Highlander’s head, squashing him into the ground. That’s what I hope we do to Highland High tomorrow night.

  Chloe goes through a checklist as we finish up. “Uniforms for school and pep rally tomorrow are the white shirt, vest on the red side and the red, white, and blue skirt. Game uniform is the new white uniform. Hair in a high ponytail. No exceptions.”

  I glance over at the bleachers where Daniel and a bunch of the football players have gathered, all sweaty from their practice. He rolls his eyes at Chloe.

  Chloe finally closes practice, and I grab my things. Lora tosses me my silvery poms, and I shove them into my bag.

  “Do you need a ride?” she asks.

  “Daniel’s driving me.”

  “Go for it, g’friend.”

  “Here, let me get that for you.” Daniel takes my bag and slings it over his shoulder. I pull my crutches up under my arms, glad to be off my leg and the pain emanating from underneath my bandage. I’m totally taking a long, hot, bath when I get home. I keep scrubbing at those stupid purple marks that are still on my leg from the radiation.

  Daniel helps me up into his truck and then places my crutches underneath the seat. He comes around and climbs in himself, revving the engine and then backing out of the parking spot. It’s about a ten-minute drive through Maxwell to get to my house.

  The setting sun provides an amber glow on Daniel’s handsome features. He is so fricking gorgeous, it’s not even funny. All I want to do is reach out and touch him to make sure he’s really there and that I’m really here. I want to open my heart to him and tell him all my hopes, dreams, and fears.

  He’s quiet and distant, though, so I break the silence.

  “Everything okay?”

  He jumps a little as he stares at the red light in front of us. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine.”

  “You seem distracted.”

  “I’m just thin
king about Coy Parker.”

  My brows knit together. “Who the hell is Coy Parker?”

  “All-state outside linebacker for Highland High. He’s a real mother. Tough bastard. Put a guy in the hospital in their first game. I don’t want him to do the same to me.”

  I sit up. “What did he do to him?”

  Daniel’s wrist dangles over the steering wheel as he describes the play. “It was perfectly legal—the hit, that is. Tackled him midfield and flattened him. Bam! Dude’s made of solid muscle, can run like a scalded dog, and I hear he’s mean, too.”

  I reach my hand over. “You’ll be great. You’re one of the best players PHS has ever had. You’ve broken, like, three school records. No one can stop you. Not even Coy Parker.”

  Daniel turns his smile on me. “I’ve got my own personal cheerleader.”

  “Well, yeah,” I say, squinting my eyes at him.

  He stares at me for a minute... an hour... a day—who knows how long? That is until the minivan behind us honks the horn and snaps us out of our gaze. He lifts his hand in acknowledgment and guns the truck. A few minutes later, we turn on Willow Hollow and stop in front of my two-story house. Mom’s car is parked in the driveway; Dad’s not home yet.

  Daniel kills the engine and moves to face me. Is he going to kiss me? I sure hope so! It’s been too long.

  “Listen, Hayley,” he begins. “Coach Gaither says we’ve got to stay really focused this year. We seniors, especially, are gunning for the state championship we missed out on last season.”

  “I know.”

  “Right. So, I can’t have any... distractions... this season.”

  The strong-willed animal in me gets my haunches up. “Are you saying I’m a distraction?”

  “No, no, not at all. I just know you’re sick and are still getting over cancer and—”

  “I’m not sick, Daniel. I had surgery and treatment and I’m over it,” I say, pleading my case. “The cancer is gone. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  He scrubs his hands through his hair. “I know, and I didn’t mean it like that. There’s a lot of pressure on me.”