It was the following week sitting there in English class that my world came crashing down.
“Look what I got.” Jude held up a bear, with soft red ears and stitched paws. “Heather gave it to me. She asked me to the dance.”
The words hit me like cold water and my carefully constructed courage drained away in an instant. I stared at the bear, then at him, and at the empty space where my rehearsed question hung between us for an entire week.
“Oh,” I said. The room grew louder, or maybe it was the roaring in my ears as I gripped the edge of my desk so hard it was sure to leave an impression. I forced a note of joy into my voice. “That’s cool. You’ll have fun.”
Jude grinned, oblivious to my deflation, swinging the bear gently. “She said she’s been wanting to ask me for a few weeks. Crazy, right?”
I nodded with a false smile, pretending the sharp twist in my chest wasn’t there. It wasn’t crazy at all. In fact,Ihad been trying to ask him for weeks.
For the rest of the period, I couldn’t concentrate. The words I’d planned dissolved into silence.
“Hey, did you ask anyone?” The look he gave me was expectant, as if I’d already lined it up.
“No, I can’t go,” I lied. “We have uh—family thing that day.” It was sort of the truth, and it hurt a lot less than admitting I’d planned on asking him approximately a million times if only I’d been born with a spine.
“Oh. Sounds fun.”
I nodded, giving him a faint smile.
Friday arrived, and with it, my nerves once more. I’d almost convinced my grandmother to keep us home, but she insisted it would be good for my brother and me to be distracted. As if I wasn’t already distracted enough. I sankinto my usual spot in English class, beside Jude, stomach knotted as I checked the clock on the wall for the fifth time.
A few minutes later, I glanced again, pencil flicking back and forth in my hand.
“Hey, are you okay?” Jude leaned in to whisper.
“Fine.” My mom’s surgery started at eight-thirty and was going to be a few hours long. I couldn’t focus, so I checked the clock again.
Twenty minutes in, the phone rang. Ms. Bates picked it up, twirling the cord between her slender fingers. “Solace, you’re needed in the office.”
I froze. My heart caught in my throat. “Okay.”
“Can someone escort her?” she asked the class.
Jude’s hand shot up before anyone else could answer. “I’ll go.”
When we reached the office, my little brother, Milo, was crouched with his back against the wall, knees hugged to his chest. His eyes were red and puffy as he glanced up at me.
“What’s going on?” I asked softly, but he didn’t answer.
Our principal leaned out of the office. “Solace, can I have a moment?”
“Of course.” I rubbed a hand over the arm Milo held wrapped around his legs. “I’ll be right back,” I told him.
“I’ll stay here,” Jude added, sitting down beside my brother.
Mr. Schumacher’s expression was terse, arms held tightly against his chest as he leaned against the office desk. “Sorry to disturb your class time, but we’re struggling to get in touch with your family. Your brother has started not one, but two fistfights this morning.”
I winced, glancing over my shoulder to where I could see Milo through the glass. Jude had an arm slung around his shoulders, their heads ducked low together.
“He won’t talk to us and we can’t reach your parents.”
My throat closed. “My mom—she’s having surgery this morning. My grandparents are staying with us for a few weeks. He’s not doing well with all of it.”
Mr. Schumacher’s jaw ticked, as if he wasn’t expecting that. Hard to discipline a kid who’s already going through hell. “Is she—is she alright?”
“She has cancer.” I didn’t add that she’d already had radiation and despite her being a doctor herself, and assuring us she’d be totally fine—we were all a mess.
