by Kira Adams
“Look man, I’m just wanting to make sure she’s okay. If you know how to get ahold of her, maybe you can find out for me.”
He nods slightly. “I’ll see what I can do.” He begins to walk away but stops and turns back to me. “Can I just ask you something?”
I nod, not bothering to respond verbally.
“Ciera has never been on your radar before. What changed?”
I’m not even sure I have an answer for him. He’s completely right. I shrug. “I guess we’ve just been in the same places at the same times recently.”
He takes a hesitant step toward me. “I know your type. You get off on hurting someone like her. You feed off of her misery. I’ll look into this for you, but after I do, I want you to stay the hell away from Ciera, do you hear me?”
I’m surprised he has the balls to talk to me like this. Normally, I wouldn’t accept it, would have him laid out in a heartbeat, but I can tell in his eyes how much he cares about her. He’s in love with her. I wonder if she even knows.
I put my arms up in surrender. “Just find out if she’s okay, and you have my word, I’ll keep my distance.”
He nods, his lips in a tight line. “Good.” He spins on his heel and scurries off.
I feel sick to my stomach. It can’t possibly be because of the agreement I just made…can it?
12
So much for avoiding unnecessary costs. After Topher brought me home, my migraine returned twofold. I couldn’t even get out of bed the following day, I was so weak. By the time today rolled around, my mother insisted we had to go see a doctor. I know she wants me to follow through with the procedure. I know she has faith that it will make a difference, but I’ve seen the doctor’s eyes. I know I’m past the point of no return. There are no guarantees, and they make that painfully obvious every time we meet with them.
Life can change at the drop of a hat. Everything you think you know suddenly changes. It’s unfair. I worry about her all the time. I want to be as optimistic as she is, but it’s my body, and I can feel it changing.
I know she thinks I’m giving up. I know she wants me to fight. But what I really want is to be able to spend the rest of my time surrounded by people I care about. I’ve done so much research, and I’ve come to the conclusion that when all is said and done, at least I will still be me.
We are at Dr. Brown’s office, a place we’ve become all too familiar with the past couple of months. He’s a gentle soul. I see the way he handles my mother, and I appreciate it. He puts care into every statement he makes, every piece of information he shares. I think he has a soft spot for my mother. She’d never notice it with everything going on, but I know he will help her after I’m gone.
Dr. Brown enters the exam room, and his face is downcast as usual. I know his news won’t be favorable. His brown eyes dart between my mother and me before he sighs, exhaling deeply.
“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” I ask.
I’m thankful he never sugarcoats anything. He always tells me like it is. It was an unspoken agreement we made after the first episode I had.
He nods his head, frowning. “Ciera, it’s too dangerous to try to remove it now. It’s growing too rapidly. Unfortunately, it’s only going to get harder from here.”
My mother stifles a sob, and I feel my heart tense up. She needs me, and I want to be there for her more than anything.
“How much time do we have?” I ask the question that is more than likely on both of our minds.
He looks up at me through lowered lashes. “It won’t be much longer before the tumor begins to affect your motor functions, before headaches and seizures become more frequent, more unstable.”
I look at my mother, and her shoulders are heaving up and down viciously. I blink rapidly, my cheeks growing hot. I need to stay strong for her.
“Can we order the medicine?”
When we first found out about the tumor, I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t understand how I could look so healthy on the outside but be slowly withering away on the inside. For weeks, I battled with accepting the truth. In the beginning, the migraines were the only reminder that my days were numbered, and then the fatigue started, and soon after, the seizures. Little by little, my body began giving up. Dr. Brown wanted to try to remove as much of the tumor as possible, but even then, it would only stunt the growth, not stop the inevitable. He insisted on radiation, but I read about the repercussions, the physical and emotional changes, and I knew right away it wasn’t the right path for me.
Living in Oregon, one of the only states to allow assisted suicide, I feel as though everything has happened for a reason. I don’t have to deteriorate into someone or something I can’t even recognize. I have a choice. It was one of the easiest decisions for me to make, but a hard one for my mother to accept. I don’t blame her. I understand that she wants as much time with me as possible, no matter what state I’m in, but I would rather pass on surrounded by the people I love and care about while still being the same person they remember. I don’t want them to remember me as the broken, bruised, and battered girl I know I would become with radiation. I want to die while the light inside me still burns bright.
Dr. Brown’s eyes begin to look a bit misty. All of us know that once the medication is ordered, everything becomes painstakingly real—not that it hasn’t been up until this point, but under the Death with Dignity Act, the medication can only be prescribed to a patient who has six months or less to live. Technically, I am not allowed to take the medication until after I turn eighteen. Legally, that is the age when I am able to consent to the choice I’ve made. I’m still in the beginning of my senior year. I won’t make it to the summer. Soon I will be merely a memory.
When we make it home, I notice a familiar face sitting on the curb outside our apartment.
“Is that Mack?” my mother asks as she pulls into her parking space. Her face is still reddened from her tears.
I squint my eyes, attempting to get a better look. Yep. Most definitely is. “Yeah.” I climb out of the car and make my way toward him.
“Hey,” he says when I approach. He stands up quickly, dusting his jeans off.
“Hey,” I reply. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi Mack,” my mother greets him quickly then rushes upstairs.
I apologize for her rudeness. “Sorry, she has to get some sleep in before work today.” He doesn’t need to know any other details.
He nods, his eyes darting around the parking lot.
Although we’ve been friends for a long time, Mack has never been to our apartment before. Anytime we have ever hung out has always been done at school or at his house. I know I should probably invite him up, especially because I have no idea how long he’s been waiting…but it’s embarrassing that we have such a small place. I’d rather deal with him outside.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his brown eyes appearing concerned.
No. I nod anyway. “I’m fine, why?”
He looks back at me like I’m stupid. “Well, you haven’t been in school the past couple of days. It’s unlike you, so I was worried. I tried calling your home phone a couple of times before I just dropped by, but no one picked up.”
“Yeah, sorry, my mom and I had to run an errand,” I lie.
He pushes a rock around with his shoe before replying. “I heard about what happened after school on Monday.”
He heard about my seizure? Who could have told him about that?
It’s as if he is reading my mind. “Topher told me.”
“Topher?” I ask, incredulous.
He nods. “He was worried about you. Since when are you guys friends?”
Since never? “We aren’t,” I answer dismissively. “He was just there when it happened.”
“Well, I still don’t trust him, but I’m thankful he was there.”
I smile slightly. “Yeah, me too.” And for once, I actually mean it.
Mack pulls his backpack around and unzips it, reaching inside and
pulling out a stack of papers. He proceeds to hand them to me. “I thought you might like your homework from the past two days.”
This is why you’re my best friend. He knows me too well. “Thank you.”
“Well, I guess I’ll see you at school?” He zips his bag back up and slips it over one shoulder.
“Of course. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
He nods then heads toward his car.
“Thanks for your concern,” I holler at him before heading back up to our small apartment.
I’m surprised Mack took it upon himself to find out where I live. I’m surprised he cares so much. But what I’m really floored about? Topher asking around about me. That’s like social suicide. I don’t know why it matters to him, but it feels nice.
I’ve always enjoyed the educational part of school, but after the meeting with Dr. Brown, it’s becoming more difficult to justify wanting to even attend now. There’s no point. I’m not going to live to see my graduation, and after all the hard work I’ve put in, it’s depressing to say the least. My heart is heavy and I’m off-kilter. I arrive at school much later than I usually would. I had trouble sleeping again. No amount of Tylenol could save me. I feel like a zombie simply going through the motions.
I’ve been running on a couple of hours of sleep the past few nights, and I am fatigued beyond belief. I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror. I’m starting to look a lot more like my mother, and that’s not necessarily a good thing. She’s exhausted all the time because of how hard she works. Soon, it’s going to be difficult to continue keeping this from Rose and Wesley.
When get to school, the halls are buzzing with my peers bustling about. I try my best to steer clear of the A-Team but accidentally run smack dab into Alyssa. “Watch where you’re going, freak!” she chastises before ramming into my shoulder roughly and walking away.
I rub my shoulder gingerly as I approach my locker. My ears feel like they need to pop, like I’m underwater. I crack my jaw a few times to no avail. I can hear the background noise, but it isn’t overpowering like usual.
Normally I would hear her sneaking up behind me. I would be prepared. But because of the weird issue with my hearing, I don’t even take note of Sophia until it’s too late. She is pulling at my hair and clothes and laughing hysterically.
Freak.
Alyssa’s title keeps replaying in my head as I watch Sophia’s lips move, yet don’t hear a sound. I turn my head to Topher’s locker. I don’t know what compels me to do this, but it’s as if I can feel his eyes on me. Sure enough, he’s there, leaning against it, watching everything unfold. I lift my hand up slightly and give him a small wave. He was so worried about me; now he’ll know I’m fine.
Topher just stares back at me with a blank expression. He doesn’t move a muscle, except for his jaw, which he appears to be clicking. Sophia follows my gaze to Topher and then back at me. She shifts so she is in my line of vision. “You are delusional.” My hearing returns.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
She snaps her fingers obnoxiously in front of my face. “Topher Carlson? You’d have better luck batting for the same team.”
She thinks I’m crushing on Topher? I think she’s the delusional one.
“Don’t you think you should get a new hobby?” I recognize the voice before I even bother looking up. It’s Madalynne. She is putting Sophia in her place.
“Excuse me?” Sophia asks, outraged.
“You heard me. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Sophia looks at me then back at Madalynne. “I take it back…maybe you’re the delusional one.”
Madalynne’s facial expression stays stone cold. “Beat it, Sophia.”
Sophia’s eyes dart wildly between me and Madalynne before she huffs loudly and stalks off.
I look up at Madalynne. She looks nice today. Her hair is pulled back into a French braid and she’s wearing a tank top, hoodie, and shorts. Simple, but she owns it.
“Thanks,” I say. I begin heading away from my locker and lock eyes with Topher as we pass. He still doesn’t bother acknowledging me with more than a simple look. I’m starting to wonder what the hell his deal is.
“Listen,” Madalynne says as we walk together. “I’m sorry about what happened at the party.”
I shrug. “It’s no big deal.”
She stops walking abruptly and grabs my arm. Her brown eyes bore down into me. “Yeah, it is a big deal. I had no idea they would be such complete assholes, and I’m sorry. I could have stood up for you better. I feel really bad.”
“We come from two different worlds. I understand,” I mumble, my cheeks burning.
“You’re really fun to hang out with, Ciera. I wish you gave yourself more credit.” She smiles slightly back at me.
Madalynne thinks I’m fun to be around?
“Even Parker was gushing about how cool he thought you were.”
“Really?” I ask, doubting every word she’s saying.
“Really. He asked me when we’re going to all hang out again. He thinks you’re really funny.” She looks at the screen of her cell phone and then around my head. “Look, I have to run to the bathroom. Catch up with you later?”
“Sure,” I reply, completely floored.
I watch as she rushes off, and then I continue heading toward my first period class.
It’s unfortunate that after three years of high school, I am finally beginning to make other friends apart from Mack but have limited time to enjoy it.
It’s unfortunate it will be so short-lived, but at least I get a chance to experience it before it’s too late, before I’m not around anymore.
The migraine begins rearing its ugly head again, and I reach up to rub the back of my head and neck. I reach into my bag to pull out a few pills and toss them back without any water.
“Are you okay?” I hear his voice behind me. I almost don’t want to even respond. Topher marches to the beat of his own drum. It’s like he decides when he does and doesn’t want to acknowledge my presence. It’s confusing to say the least, but at least he’s not bullying me anymore. That’s one development I’m happy about.
I look up at him lazily. “I’m fine.”
“Well come on then, you’re going to be late to class.” He tosses the words over his shoulder as he passes me.
Confusing.
13
I’ve been checked out for a good minute. I know I should be paying attention, especially since we have a test next week, but I can’t focus. I keep sneaking glances at Ciera, and I don’t know why. She doesn’t look well; she looks as if she hasn’t been sleeping. There are dark circles under her eyes, and they are nearly bloodshot. She keeps yawning every few minutes, attempting to keep herself awake.
I wonder what’s going on.
Mack is keeping a protective stare on her, and he keeps looking back at me every few minutes. I get it, man—I promised to stay away from her, and I have every intention to from now on. We’ve never hung out before, so it shouldn’t be difficult keeping my promise. Ciera and I have literally nothing in common.
So why do I care so much if she’s okay?
It’s probably just because I was there when she had her seizure. That’s scary shit. Anyone would be traumatized. I’d be acting the same way if it were anyone else.
I watch her rub the back of her head and neck gingerly. It’s obvious she isn’t feeling well. I wonder why she returned to school when she isn’t a hundred percent yet.
The rest of the period slips by, taking the day along with it. It isn’t long before we are back in afterschool detention with Ms. Toole. She is preoccupied with a book, and most of us are just talking quietly amongst ourselves. Ms. Toole tends to let a lot of stuff slip by.
“May I use the restroom?” Ciera asks Ms. Toole, running the back of her hand across her forehead.
“Are you alright, dear?” Ms. Toole asks, adjusting her glasses on her nose. “You look like you’re not feeling so hot.”
&nb
sp; Ciera shrugs. “Just a migraine.”
“Have you taken any medication for it?”
She nods. “Tylenol.”
“You may go.” Ms. Toole motions toward the door with her head, and then her eyes drop back to the book in her hand.
I watch as Ciera slips out.
She’s been gone for ten minutes at least, and I’m starting to wonder if she skipped out on detention altogether. I look at her desk, taking note of her binder and books scattered about. There’s no way she’d leave without them.
I raise my hand.
Ms. Toole doesn’t even bother looking up from her book. “What is it, Mr. Carlson?”
“May I go to the restroom?”
“Go ahead,” she replies, still sucked into her world of literature.
I slip out of my desk and make my way out into the hall. I do have to pee, but I’m more curious about where Ciera disappeared to. As I near the bathrooms, I see her sitting on the ground in front of a row of lockers, her knees pulled up to her chest and her head buried in her arms. She looks like she could be sleeping or crying. I’m not sure what to make of it.
I nudge her with my foot. “Hey.”
She stirs with a jolt. Her blue eyes dart up to meet mine, and then they narrow.
Okay. What’s that about?
“What are you doing out here?” I ask, coming to stand right in front of her.
She looks up at me through tired eyes then runs her hand over her face.
I take a seat next to her, backing myself up against the lockers, our shoulders almost touching.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Sitting. What does it look like?” I answer sarcastically.
Her expression turns serious. “You’re playing with social suicide. You sure you want to do that?”
I chuckle lightly. “What does that mean?”
“It means if anyone sees you with me, your popularity is going to take a hit. Are you sure you can handle that?”