Chapter Seventeen
Hana, Quinn, and I were all in Craig’s kitchen on a non-rehearsal night. It had been a week since fleeing Jason. He’d called and texted, and I’d texted back, keeping it short and mostly saying stuff like, “Sorry, I can’t. I hope you understand.” Awful. But I didn’t know how else to keep it together. The sobbing fit on the way home from his house had hollowed me out, and I needed to stay that way. Empty. Numb.
On nights there weren’t Las Palomas del Disco rehearsals, Craig and I would come to his place after dinner with Mom at our apartment. There was more room to study, and Quinn and Hana would join us. We did study, but we’d also finish our nights watching a couple of episodes of Ranma and overeating Marshmallow Mateys.
Tonight, we were temporarily out of cereal, so we’d made brownies instead.
“Why won’t these finish baking already?” Hana’s face was practically pressed to the oven door. She was wearing a shirt of her own design that read, “Tiny animals are my friends,” with an arrow pointing to a bird that rode on top of a kitten that rode on top of a bunny.
“Probably because they’ve only been in the oven for five minutes.” Craig took a break from messaging with Luke about music to offer his logic. This whole Hana-Craig combo still had my head spinning.
Craig and Hana had gone to downtown Chicago on their date, to the Lords of Misrule concert. Hana declared the date to be “Categorically the best night of my life. The Lords of Misrule is the best band I’ve ever seen, and Craig the best kisser I’ve ever known.”
(To which I’d responded, “Ew,” and, “It’s not like you’ve had a lot of comparison.” To which she’d responded, “Eat a bag.” To which I’d responded, “Promise to never say that again and I will allow you to keep dating my brother.” To which she’d responded, “Step,” and, “But okay.”)
They were now An Item. And while I couldn’t quite get over the odd coupling—five-foot Hana nestling in close to six-foot-five Craig—they were also adorable.
“I’m not looking for brilliant answers here. I’m looking for ways to open up the space-time-brownie continuum so I can be in gooey chocolate heaven now, thank you,” Hana huffed.
Quinn looked up from where she sat at the island counter working on costumes for the sketch. “Seriously, Hana, why are you freaking out over brownies?”
“Nerves, people. Comedy Hub’s contest is a little over two weeks away, and everything’s a disaster. I only have three quarters of the contestants I need. Do not deny a talent coordinator her chocolate treats.” Of course, once she was involved in the sketch, she’d immediately inserted herself into the production side of things, working directly with the Comedy Hub contest producers to be the local high school talent coordinator. When I asked her why she was adding so much to her schedule all at once, she replied, “It’s my fate. It’s in my name: Hana—one. Yoon—to rule.”
At least she’d use her power for good.
“Won’t you please sign up for the standup contest, Ellie?” Hana asked. “It doesn’t require any dancing, and you’d be so good.”
“Sorry, no way. I’m deciding the fate of my life and limb, and you want me to write a bunch of jokes?”
Not swayed by my dramatics, she gave an even nod. “I do. Sometimes you have to leap and do great things before you are ready.”
I shook my head and snorted. “Love ya, but no. Sometimes it’s better to never risk than to do a lot of work and risk making a fool of yourself. Is that how that quote goes?”
Hana glared at me. “No. Not even close. And that’s the worst, most not-you thing I’ve ever heard. Take it back.”
“Fine, I take it back. But seriously, I might implode if I have to think about anything else right now.”
“Grr.”
“Hey, Ellie, would you look at this?” Quinn asked, saving me from Hana’s wrath. I used the counter as my support and hopped over on my good leg to see the new costume she was working on for Hana. She’d decided on something different than the jumpsuits the rest of them would be wearing.
She angled her laptop toward me.
“Awesome. It’s perfect. I can’t wait to see it under the lights.”
She brightened. “Owen and I came up with the idea together.” It came out as a wistful sigh. I was happy for her, yet slightly barfy at the same time. It was like Midsummer Night’s Dream around here, with me cast as Puck, alone and possibly responsible for all the trouble.
I considered everyone around the island. Craig had his music, Hana had her contest-recruitment ideas sprawled out all over the island, and Quinn her newfound knack for costume design. And what did I have? A list of horrible options for my leg and the latest article I was reading about cancer. Oh, and best of all, my constant companion—fear.
Quinn pressed her lips together. “I wish you’d be part of the sketch. We can do something different that you’d like more.”
“I’m good. But thanks.”
She narrowed her eyes at me like she wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but she didn’t push it. “Well, I guess that’s all I can do on the costumes for now. So, it’s either work on my college app or see if Owen’s on his way yet.” She grinned with the obvious answer and grabbed her phone. Apparently, Owen was a true romantic. It was weird to see the change in Quinn—she was serious about a guy, one who didn’t look like he’d walked out of the crew pages of an ivy-league college catalog.
In just a few weeks, my friends seemed more grown up, more focused, getting ready to start their lives after high school and working on their dreams, while I was stuck in a medical abyss, my free time consumed by research and worry.
Stop it, Ellie. Stop the pity-fest.
I turned to check on Hana and her brownie-sitting.
“How have the last two minutes been?”
“Not good, Ellie. Not good,” she said, her gaze at the oven set to laser-beam-kill. With another huff, she walked over to my station at the counter and sat on the stool next to me, her shiny black hair swishing along her shoulders. She peered at the spreadsheet of all the treatment options I’d gotten from Dr. Nichols, along with their pros and cons on my screen. “Okay, I love you, Ellie, but seriously, you’re such a nerd.” She shoulder-bumped me and said, “What have you found out so far?”
“That none of Dr. Nichols’s options appeal to me even a tiny bit.” I stuck out my tongue. “But look at this.” I maximized an article on my screen to show her. “‘Top Ten Miracle Doctors in the United States.’ There’s this surgeon, Dr. Ray, who cured a woman who had the same type of cancer. Every other doctor told her they would have to amputate her leg.”
Hana’s eyebrows raised. “That could be you. Why are they so big on amputations? It seems that should have gone out of style in the late eighteen-hundreds.”
“I know. Anyway, Dr. Ray did some crazy experimental procedure and was able to save her leg.”
“That’s awesome. Let’s get him to be your doctor.”
“Not so easy.” I shook my head. “He’s at a hospital in New York City.”
“We can get you to New York, right?”
Craig chimed in, “Yeah. It’ll be a cancer adventure. A canventure.”
I gave Craig my Displeased Ice Princess glare.
How many words are we going to warp with “cancer” now?
Was this a general thing, or specific to myself and my weird circle of people? Would we have a party on the eve of my surgery and call it a cancerbration? A year from my now, will we remember my cancerversary?
“Or maybe he could at least refer you to someone that’s just as good near here?” she suggested.
“Maybe.” I tried not to sound forlorn.
For a minute, we just stared at the article about the miracle doctor. Then Hana turned to me, deeply serious, “Do you think the eggs in the brownies have cooked through, at least?”
“Excuse me?”
“I think they have.” Hana hopped off her stool, slipped on the oven mitts and pulled the brownies out of the oven. “How’s that for problem solving? I have no answers for getting Ellie to her miracle doctor, but I have the power to transform brownie batter into brownie pudding.”
We all clapped for Hana as she came to the end of the counter where Craig was sitting, climbed on a stool, and set down the pan. She dug in for a spoonful and blew furiously at her brownie glop. “Now I have to wait for them to cool?” She growled again. “Craig, let’s never run out of Marshmallow Mateys again, okay?” She patted him on the knee.
“I promise you, Hana, from now on I will always provide endless bags of Mateys.” He gave an endearing smile.
Despite the scalding state of the brownies, the smell of the rich, sweet chocolate lured Quinn and me to join Hana around the brownie soup. We scooped the gooey mess into our mouths with wooden cooking spoons. I had one spoonful and called it good, Marissa’s inane words about cancer and sugar niggling at me. But they acted like it was a fight to the brownie finish.
“You two are sugar vultures,” Craig said. His knee was pressed up to Hana’s thigh.
The only sound for a while came from the pan sliding against the counter as it got pulled back and forth between Hana and Quinn. Finally, Quinn set her spoon down with a groan and went back to her phone. Hana kept at it. I looked at Craig who was texting like crazy.
“What are you and Luke working on?” I asked.
“Music for the Comedy Hub contest.”
“What do you mean? I thought you finished the Una Paloma Blanca track?”
“I did.”
“Okay, so is this something else? Is it a humorous song or something?”
“Hell no.” He didn’t look up from his phone.
“Sooo…?”
He finally set the phone in his lap, giving me his attention. “I figured with the freaky girl-chip you three have you’d know about it already. The Comedy Hub people asked Scared Scriptless if there were any local high school musicians who could play while the contest judges made their decisions about the winners at the end of the show, and Jason asked me.”
“Wow, that’s so cool.” And then, out of nowhere, big gloppy tears sprouted out of my eyes. I got up, balancing on one leg, balling my fists into my eyeballs. “Sorry, sorry.” I grabbed my crutches and went through the kitchen door into the backyard.
This didn’t make sense. I was happy for Craig. Happy for all of them.
Am I really so selfish that my friends tell me good news and I cry?
It was a cloudy night. I sat down in the grass, feeling a quick shock of pain around my knee. I adjusted my leg and ripped up the grass. Ripping, ripping, ripping, deeper until I was pulling out mounds of earth, ripping until there was a big circle of dirt in front of me. They didn’t understand, they couldn’t understand. Or maybe it was me. Maybe I didn’t understand. Anything.
“Barb is going to be pissed about the hole in her yard.” It was Craig, and I ignored him. He plowed on. “Dude. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think it was a big deal. Jason just asked, which is why Luke and I are working on it so fast. You three tell each other everything, I honestly thought you knew and didn’t care.”
I squished some dirt. “Craig, I think it’s awesome, really. I’m happy for you, and I’m seriously not mad you didn’t mention it.” He plopped in the grass next to me. “I don’t know why I reacted like that. Maybe it’s because—”
“You have cancer. You pushed away the boy you like a lot. Your friends are doing normal things, and you’re stuck on crutches with no answers.”
“Yes. That. You’re annoyingly perceptive.”
He shrugged. “That’s how I’d feel. Except the part about the boy, or the girl, if it were me.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you about to give me advice about guys?”
“Who better?”
“Anyone besides my stepbrother who is dating one of my best friends?” I shivered involuntarily.
“I’m just saying it doesn’t sound like Jason wanted to be pushed away. You act like it’s some noble, wise thing you’ve done, but I call total bull.”
“It’s not. It’s real.”
“No one knows the future. If I were you, I’d say, ‘Jason, let’s carpe diem the crap out of everything before my surgery—no strings, yo?’”
I belly laughed, looking up at the sky, my mouth wide. “So, romantic. Is that what you said to Hana when you ran after her?”
“Hana? No. I didn’t think I had a chance with her since she’s so out of my league, but I’d follow her anywhere next year if she’d let me. Doesn’t hurt she happens to want to go to school in New York City.”
My eyes and nostrils prickled. That’s the sweetest thing ever. “Are you in love?”
“I’m just saying I’m in if she’ll have me, for as long as she’ll have me.”
I hiccupped with a cry-laugh that I shook off as fast as it came. “I cannot believe you spend your time on abstract music crap when it turns out you could be topping the charts with the sappiest love songs ever recorded. You’re a hopeless romantic.” I poked my finger into his arm. “Holy crap. My whole world is crumbling.”
“Eat a bag.” Craig shoved my shoulder and made the back-of-the-throat clicking sound he did when he was uncomfortable or embarrassed.
I blew some breath-giggles through my nose and shoved him back. “Eat a bag, yourself.”
“Let’s keep this heart-to-heart stuff between us for now, okay?” He stood up and stretched his legs. “I’m going back in to see if I can save her from a brownie coma.”
“I’ll be in in a minute.” I rubbed my leg, putting both palms on my knee and feeling the warmth of my hands around the tumor spot. I tried to stuff all the grass back on the dirt mound. It didn’t look great, but at least the torn-up ground wasn’t so exposed.
I eased myself onto my back, moving like I belonged in a nursing home instead of high school. The night sky was splotched with drifts of gray. There was only one visible star, probably a planet or a satellite. I chose to believe it was a star. The rhyme Mom always chanted on starry nights came to me. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”
I closed my eyes, thinking of Mom, of college, of all my friends finding love. Of Jason. Of my unknown everything. Please, please…heal me.