by Abby Cooper
“Yeah,” he agreed. “You’re actually wearing a bathing suit to the pool. Makes it way less fun to soak you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I gave him a little splash. Then he lifted himself out of the pool and sat beside me along the edge.
“What’s up?”
“It’s Zoe. I think I’ve been a really bad friend.”
“What do you mean?”
“The whole time she’s been alive, I’ve been so worried about losing her that I’ve tried to control everything. And it’s been fine, I guess, sort of. But it’s not real. She’s been who I wanted her to be, but I have no idea who she actually is. And I never even wrote about her family. Or my family! I never wrote about us having tough conversations or being upset or anything that’s actually interesting or important.” Mrs. Yang’s advice about characters with layers swirled in my head. “I didn’t even give her a family!” I cried out.
I watched everybody else. The little kids were playing Marco Polo, and my parents were on lounge chairs, looking at each other all lovey-dovey and gross and adorable. How could I have just not tried to give Zoe parents of her own? Maybe a little brother or sister? And how could she have been so selfless not to even ask?
Clue scratched his head. “Well, she’s probably had a chance to figure out who she is this weekend, right? Because you haven’t had as much time to write.”
“True.”
Clue pointed to my mom. Her phone sat on the table next to her chair. “Only one way to find out.”
I took a huge gulp of steamy Arizona air.
“You’re right.”
I jumped up and walked over to Mom. My heart pounded through my bathing suit. I glanced back at Clue over my shoulder, and he nodded. I could do this. I had to.
I asked Mom to use the phone. Then I walked away from everybody and found my own spot as I dialed the number and listened to it ring.
“Jade!”
She answered right away, and I let out the breath I’d been holding since I decided to give her a call.
I meant to say something like hi, but different words came out instead.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Zoe, I’m so, so, so sorry!”
The rest of what I’d been thinking about on the trip poured out of me like a word-waterfall. “All this time, I’ve been trying to make you do what I wanted and to stop you from having opinions and ideas and other friends. It wasn’t very fair of me to not think about how lonely you must have been without a family. I’ve been such a bad friend.”
There was a long pause on the other line.
“Jade, it’s okay,” Zoe finally said. “You were just trying to stay best friends.”
“I know,” I said. “I just wanted…”
I bit my lip. What did I want? At first I wanted Zoe to be around all the time, to do fun things with me and listen to me and be my best friend always and forever no matter what. But now I wanted a different kind of friend. And maybe what I wanted most of all…was for her to be happy. Even if that meant that things might change.
“So how was the sleepover?” I asked. “For real. I really want to know.”
I listened to her go on about how they had a dance party and at first it was fun but then it made her neck too hot even if her hair was in a ponytail and how she loved spending time with new people and how they’d gone into Denver and had Chinese food and egg rolls were the best thing she’d ever eaten in her life. Then I took a slow, deep breath. A smile spread from my mouth to my cheeks to my ears. Zoe sounded different today than she ever had before. Different because she was talking about things I didn’t already know about—things I hadn’t made up for her.
We talked and talked and talked. About all kinds of things. Zoe had so many interesting thoughts, questions, and observations. She’d gone for a walk and stumbled across the pond. “That place is creepy!” she said. She’d also gone back to the mall, this time with Afiya. And tried out her piano. They’d even played a duet.
A little while later, Mom waved her arms at me from across the pool. “We have to go,” she mouthed. “Lunch!”
“I have to go,” I told Zoe.
“Aw,” she said, “okay. Hey, what do you think I should do until you get back? Any ideas?”
I tipped my head back and smiled. I felt warm everywhere, and I had a hunch it wasn’t just because we were in Arizona.
“Yeah, I have ideas, but so do you. You choose, Zoe.”
32
The Hike
After lunch it was time for a mini hike. We were going to walk from the Visitors Center to Yavapai Point, which was supposed to be one of the very best Canyon views. Even though the walk was only a mile, Dad and the other people in remission were going to take a private shuttle. They were all healthy now, but they were still supposed to take it easy.
“We’ll race you there,” Bo told Dad.
“Sure thing, buddy. I bet it’ll be close.”
Bo giggled and grabbed my hand. I grabbed Mom’s, and together we walked on the gravel path along the Canyon’s rim. Clue and his family were right behind.
“Don’t forget to enjoy the view,” Mom reminded us as the path curved around. I looked out into the canyon, but only a little. I mostly kept my gaze fixed on her and Bo and their happy faces. That was the only view I needed.
“We’re almost there,” Mom said after a few minutes had passed. “Let’s hurry and beat Dad!”
Bo tugged at my arm. “Go faster, Jade!”
I laughed. “I don’t think I can go as fast as you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re so fast!”
He grinned. “True.”
“Hey.” I wriggled my hand out of his grasp. I let go of Mom’s on my other side. Then I clasped the two of them together. “You guys go ahead,” I said.
For the first time in a couple days, my arms were totally free. I wasn’t holding on to Bo or Zoe or Clue—or what I wanted to have happen.
Now I really looked out at the canyon. I wasn’t much of an OMG, scenery! person. But Mom was right—it was pretty great. I usually ignored the things Mrs. Yang said about setting in stories because I thought the characters were way more important. But standing here, feeling the breeze at my back, listening to the peaceful sounds of all the nature, I realized: setting had a ton to do with character. If Zoe could go anywhere in the world, where would she go? What would she do? How would those adventures help her grow and change?
I snapped out of my thoughts when I realized I’d made it to the lookout point. I held onto the railing, peeked over the edge, and, wow, I had to admit: That was a view. The rocks went on forever.
The shuttle got there before we did, obviously. I saw Dad’s new, barely-there curly hairs glimmering in the sunlight before I even saw him. He looked up, a huge smile on his face, like the world was wide open and he could do anything. From far away he didn’t look like Sick Dad. He looked like a superhero.
But then, just like that, he did look like Sick Dad.
OPPSERVATION: Doctors can be wrong.
Questions for further research: Why did they have to be wrong about Dad?
* * *
It didn’t make any sense. One second he was standing, happily checking out the view. And then he was on the ground, crumpled up in a ball. Everyone rushed to his side, but Ray told us to get back.
“Give him some space,” he told us.
My feet froze to the ground. The whole world spun faster and faster and faster, like all it wanted was to push me over and knock me all the way down.
There aren’t any opposites when something is wrong with someone you love. Or maybe there are. But there isn’t time to think about them, or your questions for further research. You know that things are bad, and that’s it. And when a nice old guy named Ray tel
ls you, and only you, to run, not walk, to the Geology Center nearby to meet the ambulance, you don’t think about all the zillions of things that could go wrong, you don’t hear the loud pounding in your heart—you just do it. You turn and go without waving or looking back.
I darted around the trail moving faster than I’ve ever moved in my entire life, swerving around people left and right, paying attention to my footing on the path and the crunching of the gravel beneath my feet. My legs burned, but I took one step and another step and another step, and somehow I didn’t fall.
There wasn’t much wind but it was in my face. I was frozen with fear and sticky with sweat. Time went slowly and way too fast. Everything I shot past was a blur, but I noticed every person, every rock, every everything. My whole world was an opposite. It didn’t make any sense. When I reached the lot at the Geology Center, I waved my arms at the ambulance people, told them where the group was, and stepped aside as they raced past me to save my dad. And as I watched them go, I hoped and wished and somehow, deep down, really believed that in some weird, not-making-any-sense kind of way, everything was going to be all right.
* * *
It seemed like only a matter of seconds before the ambulance workers returned, carrying Dad on a stretcher. He looked like a big Dad-shaped lump. I swallowed hard. Even though I’d gotten here pretty quickly, maybe I had been too slow to get help, and now it was too late. Maybe they couldn’t save Dad after all. But then I heard his voice.
“Hey, Jadey. I’m okay. Just tired. I really shouldn’t have done those ten laps up and down the canyon before everyone woke up this morning.”
I was too worried to groan at his joke. Mom squeezed my hand. I hadn’t even noticed that the rest of the group had made their way over. “He’s going to be fine,” she said. “They think his hemoglobin probably dropped pretty low. They’ll make sure everything gets back to where it needs to be.” She paused, keeping her eyes on me. “Dad did way too much hiking. He’s too outdoorsy for his own good.” She winked. He hadn’t really done any hiking at all. How could she be so calm and funny in a moment like this? Dad was on a stretcher. He wasn’t better at all. He was worse.
But somehow she and Dad were still making us laugh.
There was something so not funny about how Dad had been really careful to take it easy and everything, and still, here he was on a stretcher. Talk about an Oppservation.
I leaned into Mom. “You know how Bo would draw low hemoglobin?” I asked.
“How?” Bo popped out from behind me.
“Well, I don’t really know what hemoglobin means, but I can totally imagine you making a super-creepy green-goblin type of guy.”
Mom and Dad laughed, and Bo grinned. “That’s an amazing idea,” he said. “And maybe he could pound his chest with his big, creepy, green-goblin fists, and he can yell, He-mo-glo-bin! He-mo-glo-bin!”
Dad laughed again, then coughed, then laughed one more time. “I’m going to run an errand really quick,” he said, “but you guys keep thinking about this and let me know how it pans out.” He pointed at Bo. “I expect pictures.” Then at me. “And stories.”
We both nodded as Dad was loaded into the ambulance.
“It’s going to be okay,” Clue whispered to me as Mom helped Bo inside.
I nodded as I stepped in next. “Thanks.”
As the ambulance drove away, I looked out the back window and waved to all our trip friends, mostly to Clue. And even though this was scary, I kind of felt, well, lucky. It sounded like Dad was going to be fine. Mom and Bo were here with me. I had gotten help for Dad all by myself, and I had succeeded.
I squeezed Mom’s and Bo’s hands. Now I had a really solid idea of what I needed to write, but I wasn’t going to do it right now. Now I was just going to be with them, hold them close, and try to be brave as we looked out the window and watched the world go by.
33
A New Chapter
Once we got to the hospital, Dad was taken away really fast to go have a blood transfusion. Apparently hemoglobin had something to do with blood being tired and not working right, so Dad needed to go trade his in for some blood that was more awake. “Some coffee-flavored blood,” he joked as they rolled him away.
I’d been to the cancer center and other doctor-y places with Dad a bunch of times over the past couple years, but I hadn’t been to an official hospital since the day of Nessa’s party. This was a different hospital, obviously, but a lot of things were the same. The white walls. The long, endless hallways. The way everybody seemed to be both hurrying and waiting at the same time.
“It’s going to be a little while,” Mom told Bo and me. She held a clipboard with a giant stack of papers on top. “I have to figure out some insurance stuff. Are you two okay?”
I nodded, and Bo did too. He had paper and crayons so he was good to go. And there was some writing I really needed to do, and what better place to do it than in a hospital, where everything began.
My notebook was mostly full, so I flipped to one of the final blank pages. But before I started writing there, I turned to the story Mrs. Yang had read…and I crossed it all out.
Revision didn’t always mean starting over. A lot of the time it meant changing and improving what you already had. But right now I didn’t just want to switch a word or sentence here and there. I wanted to change the whole story.
Sometimes healthy dads fall down, I wrote.
People who were so sure they were right can realize that they’re wrong.
They can say sorry. Then—because sorry isn’t usually enough all by itself—they can make it right.
Jade hadn’t been fair to Zoe, not at all. She’d felt like Zoe was getting out of control, when really Zoe was finding control. She was becoming her own person—something everybody should get to do.
Just like anyone and everyone, Zoe deserved to share her ideas, thoughts, and opinions. She deserved to have dreams and go for them. She deserved to have friends, family, and the right to decide for herself when and where they all hung out. If Zoe wanted a family, she should have one. If she wanted to go somewhere—like to Denver, or the Grand Canyon, or the moon, she should go.
Jade didn’t want to control Zoe anymore. She didn’t want to worry about what Zoe was doing or thinking back home. She wanted Zoe to do or think whatever she wanted. And if Zoe decided she wanted a different best friend, or to become someone who didn’t get along with Jade at all, well, then that’s how it would be.
As long as Zoe was being true to herself, that was all Jade could ask. No matter what happened, Jade knew she’d be okay.
* * *
I closed my notebook and checked out what was happening around me. There’d been a lot of noise a second ago, and now I realized it was because all our friends from the trip had shown up. Fallan was already playing with Bo, Clue sat down beside me, and all the adults were crowded around Mom.
I smiled to myself. This hospital was so similar to the one we went to the day of Nessa’s party. But this time, I didn’t feel alone at all.
“I decided to stop controlling Zoe,” I told Clue. “I just wrote about it. From here on out, all her decisions are going to be totally her own. She can do literally anything she wants.”
Clue nodded, but he seemed distracted.
“We can still try again when we get home,” I added. “There must be a way to have them both here. And if there’s not…” I took a slow breath. “I mean, I’d want to talk to Zoe about it first, but I’d understand if you needed to send her away to bring back Harper. At least until we figure out how to get them both.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going to try again.”
“What?”
He chuckled. “Well, while you have been writing about letting go of Zoe, I’ve been doing the same thing with Harper. I mean, I’m always going to think about her and our memories. But m
aybe…maybe it didn’t work for a reason, you know? Maybe she’d want me to focus on who’s around me now. I’ve never really had a best friend besides her. I think she’d be glad that I found one.” He shrugged. “And that her magic was a little different than I’d expected.”
I blinked. A best friend? Did he mean…
Clue elbowed me in the side. “Yeah, you, weirdo. Even though you’re horrible at splashing contests.”
“I WASN’T EVEN IN THE POOL!” I said for the millionth time. “I didn’t have my swimsuit on. It was totally unfair!” And then I let out a big, real laugh. I didn’t know how Dad’s blood was doing, but mine was wide-awake. All of me was. Because the idea of Clue as my best friend…well, it sounded pretty good. But there was one thing I was afraid of.
“What if you move?” I asked him.
“What if you move?”
We looked at each other for what felt like centuries, but in that time, an interesting thought flashed through my mind. With a friend like Clue, if someone moved…would a little distance really be able to keep us apart?
Clue seemed to read my mind. “If someone moves, we stay friends. No matter what. I mean it.”
“We could write to each other,” I said.
“We do like to write a lot,” he joked.
I chuckled.
“You know, I actually sort of miss Tiveda.” He sighed.
I thought of our little town. Sure, it wasn’t a fancy place. There weren’t tall buildings or big parks or malls with more than three stores. And people left. People left all the time. But maybe, by focusing so much on that, I’d forgotten to appreciate where I was, what I had. Our town gave Clue special memories of Harper. It gave me memories with Zoe. It gave us the pond that brought my words to life—and a whole new friendship I never expected.