Invincible (20 page)

“I've been busy.”

Kasey looks at me with surprise. “You didn't tell them?”

“Tell us what?” Dad says.

“Oh god,” says Jenica, rolling her eyes.

“Tell us what?” Dad repeats.

I stare at my plate, at the grilled chicken breast turning hard and cold. “Will and I sort of broke up.”

“What? When did this happen?” Mom says. “Why didn't you tell us? Honey, are you okay?”

“I was wondering why we haven't seen him lately,” Dad says. “Oh, Evie. I'm so sorry. You must be devastated.”

“Why do you automatically assume he dumped me?” I say. “I broke up with him.”

“But why?” Mom says.

“I don't want to talk about it. It's not that big of a deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Jenica says. “You've been together for two years. He's practically a part of our family.” So now Will's a part of their army too. Whinsett family: 5. Evie: 1.

“It
is
kind of a big deal,” Kasey agrees, looking at her plate.

“Kasey, can you explain this?” Mom says, because apparently I can't speak for myself. “Do you know why this happened?”

“I don't,” she says sadly. “I really don't. Will is such a perfect boyfriend. He loves Evie so much.”

“I just need some space right now,” I say. “To figure some things out. It's not a good time for me to be in a relationship. I need a break. Is that a crime?”

“What have you been busy figuring out?” Jenica says. “All you do is sit in your room and listen to that girl's horrible music over and over and talk on the phone.”

“Physical therapy takes up a lot of my time,” I say. “And how is my relationship any of your business, anyway?”

“Who are you talking to on the phone?” Kasey asks.

“And now you're wearing her hat,” Jenica adds.

“Why are you guys ganging up on me?”

“What, are you, like, a lesbian now?” Jenica snarls.

“Are you fucking serious?” I scream.

“Evie!” says Dad. “Lower your voice. There will be no cursing at the dinner table.”

“Dad, did you hear what she just said? What about Jenica being homophobic at the dinner table? What happened to this house being a hate-free zone? Just because I wear a hat and listen to certain music doesn't mean I'm a lesbian, or that there'd be anything wrong if I were. That is so closed-minded of you. God, Jenica, you're so stuck in the gender binary.”

She smirks at me. It's the smirk she gets when she thinks she's smarter than everyone else. “Do you even know what that means? Define ‘gender binary' for me.”

“Evie,” Kasey says, at least with some kindness in her voice. “I think we're all a little worried, you know? Will is such a great guy, and you were so happy for so long. It doesn't make sense for you to break up with him, especially after everything he's done for you.”

“What has he done for me?”

“You can't be serious,” Jenica hisses. “You ungrateful bitch.”

“Jenica!” Mom says. “Language!” She is crying now. Dad jumps up and puts his arms around her, but she pushes him away.

I look at Kasey for some support, but her eyes are narrowed in anger now too. My heart drops. It's really true—no one here is on my team.

“He stayed by your side this whole time,” Kasey says softly, as if she can't believe the horror of her own words. “The whole year you were sick. He could have any girl he wanted. Anyone. And he stayed with you.”

I have never felt like such an asshole in my life. I look around the table but no one will meet my eye. “I never asked him to do that,” I say, my best attempt at an excuse, but that just makes it worse.

“Yeah,” Jenica says, standing up from the table. “You never asked any of us to love you, did you? It's all our fault. We're idiots.” She storms away from the table and down the hall. The sound of her bedroom door slamming rattles the silverware on the table.

“I think I should go now,” Kasey says, standing up from the table. “Dinner was delicious, Pam.” She starts crying as she says this. Mom reaches out and pulls her close and I watch from the other side of the table as my Dad wraps them in his arms for a group hug. I caused this. I'm the one who drove them away from me and into each other's arms.

“Evie,” Dad says. “I think you should go to your room.”

I get up and limp away, back to my dungeon. I will leave their sadness in this room. I will not take it with me.

I ditch my cane at the table. I don't need it anymore. I am tough, like Marcus said. I can do without it. I can do without any of them.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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MY LEG DOESN'T REALLY HURT ANYMORE, BUT I'M STILL TAKing the painkillers. Every day, multiple times per day. I don't have a choice. If I don't take them, I start feeling sick, like I'm getting the flu; my legs ache and my stomach churns and I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. The pills don't really get me high anymore; they just make everything a little more bearable, a little smoother around the edges. They make the way my parents look at me not hurt so much. They make school not as excruciatingly boring. They make my “friends” not as mind-numbingly dull. They help me to not care that I'm so behind in all my classes that no amount of tutoring is going to keep me from failing.

Mom just got my last refill, then Dr. Jacobs said no more, I'm cut off. Then I don't know what happens. She keeps bugging me about the outpatient support group meeting I'm supposed to go to, where a bunch of Sick Kids and survivors sit around in a circle and talk about cancer. Why would I want to talk about cancer? I've spent enough of my life talking about cancer.

It feels like my world is on hold until I see Marcus tomorrow. First, I have to spend this afternoon with Kasey, doing the kinds of thing the old me used to love. I want to have fun, I want
things to be good between us, but I'm not feeling very optimistic. Things have been tense since the blowup at dinner last week, but we've managed to patch things up enough to pretend we're going to repair our bond with some good old-fashioned girl time. I wish it was as important to me as it is to her, but the truth is, all I can think about is Marcus. All I want to do is see him.

So I take four pills before Kasey gets here, a preemptive strike against whatever I may feel in her company. I know I should be rationing, but desperate times call for desperate measures. My leg doesn't hurt, but there's a new kind of pain, one that only comes when the pills fade away, like a fist tearing my heart through my stomach, and the noise it makes is
IwantIwantIwantIwant
.

I hear the doorbell, and Mom and Kasey's high-pitched greetings. I take a deep breath and remind myself to be kind. It's not Kasey's fault I'm someone else now.

She opens my door without knocking. “You're not even dressed” is the first thing she says.

“I didn't realize we're in a hurry.”

“We have an appointment,” she says. “And they're busy on weekends.” Kasey's treating me to a pedicure. Whoopee.

“I can't figure out what to wear. All my clothes are, like, precancer old.” I couldn't care less about clothes, but I know Kasey will buy this excuse.

“Let's go shopping!” she says. “You totally need a new wardrobe now that you're getting your body back. We can go to the Bay Street Mall after we get our pedicures.”

“But I'm broke,” I say, pulling a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt out of a pile of what I hope is clean clothes. “And I don't think my parents have any extra money lying around.”

“I'm sure they could spring for a new pair of jeans at least. Those ones are so ripped.”

“I don't think so,” I say, pulling the clothes on. “They're really stressed about money right now.”

“A sweater, then. Something cheerful for spring. On the sale rack.” Her smile clouds as she notices the look on my face. “Or we can just walk around and try stuff on.”

I put Stella's hat on and look at myself in the full-length mirror. I look cool. I look tough. I see the reflection of Kasey behind me, in her short white skirt and tight pink sweater, her blond hair cascading across her shoulders.

“You're not going to wear that hat, are you?” she says.

The pills have started their softening. I can name the look on her face “bitchy,” but it does not hurt me.

I turn around and strike a pose. “It's my signature look.”

She tries to smile, but I can tell it hurts her face. “So what do you think? Pedicures, then mall? We don't have to spend any money. We can walk around. Or I could even buy you something.”

“God, Kasey. I don't want to go to the fucking mall.” The cruelty in my voice surprises me.

I watch her face as the seasons change from forced cheerfulness, to surprise, to shock, to hurt, to anger. White, cold, freezing anger.

“Fine,” she says, grabbing her purse from my bed. “Then I guess you don't want to get pedicures, either. That's stupid too, isn't it? That's just something your old bimbo cheerleader friends do.”

“Stop. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.” I say the words, but my heart's not in them. I know I'm supposed to feel something, but I don't. The pills took care of that.

“No, whatever, it's okay. I know I'm not as cool as Stella. I know my life is totally boring, that all my problems are pointless compared to yours. I get it.” She stops and faces me, her face red and blotchy and stained with tear-smeared makeup. All I can think is she'd be horrified if people at school saw her this ugly. “I miss you,” she says, and for a second my armor cracks. For a second my heart breaks and I see my old friend, the girl who knew me better than anyone, the girl I couldn't live without.

“I miss you too,” I say, my head suddenly clear. I want to hug her. I want to wrap her in my arms and make everything the way it used to be.

“You don't realize how hard this has been for me, too,” she says. And my armor is solid once again. How dare she? How dare she compare her pain to mine?

I'm a tornado. I'm a hurricane. I'm a whirlpool of rage. “Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry my cancer has been an inconvenience to you. What, has my dying gotten in the way of cheer practice and finding a new boyfriend?”

Her sadness, suddenly gone. Her anger is big enough to match mine. “Evie,” she says. “You're not dying anymore. Get over it.”

The sharpest silence I have ever heard as we stare each other down.

“Shit,” she finally says, looking away. “That sounded really bad.”

“I can't believe you said that.”

“You know what I meant. I want you to be happy. But frankly, your attitude lately sucks.” She takes a step toward me and I take a step back. “Like, shouldn't you be a little bit grateful that you're cured and you're going to live? Isn't that supposed to make you happy?”

“I am happy.”

“No you're not. You're the least happy I've ever seen you. You were happier when you had two weeks to live.”

“Well, maybe you'd prefer it if I could go back to that. Maybe everyone would like it better if I was sick again. Then you'd know what to do with me.”

“Stop.”

“I think maybe you should leave now.”

“You can't be serious. You can't really think that. You can't really think anyone wishes you were still sick.”

“I don't know what I think.”

“We love you. We all just want you to be happy.”

“I want you to go.”

She reaches her hand out to touch me, but I slap it away. “Go!” I scream. I don't want her to see me cry. I don't want her to be here when the pain breaks through. I can feel it bubbling up, somewhere in my stomach. When it makes it past my throat, I know I'll be a goner.

“Fine,” she says, and turns away. When she gets to the door, she faces me. “You can keep pushing everyone away if you want. But we may not still be here when you decide you need us again.” She walks away, slamming the door behind her.

If I move fast, the feelings can't catch me. I grab Stella's box out of my sock drawer and stuff it in my bag. I wait an unbearable five minutes to make sure Kasey's gone. I grab Mom's keys from the bowl by the door and walk out without telling anyone I'm leaving.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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I'M WITH MARCUS AND MY WORLD IS BACK IN COLOR.

Flowers burst out of the ground in every shade imaginable. The sky is a shocking, electric blue. We are zooming through the winding roads of the Oakland hills, going up, up, up, to the part of the city where everything glows with possibility.

“I think my parents used to take me here when I was little,” I say as Marcus pulls into a spot at the Lake Chabot parking lot. “We'd bring a picnic and rent a canoe.”

“That sounds so nice and wholesome.”

“Yeah, that's my family. Nice and wholesome. Yours isn't?”

“Let's start walking,” he says, perfectly aware that he's avoiding my question.

It is a warm, perfect day. It is so beautiful I can almost forget about my fight with Kasey yesterday. I can forget about getting stoned in Mom's car while my phone buzzed with her unanswered calls. When I got home, the house fell into what has become a usual routine. My mom, beside herself with worry, wanting me to sit with her on the couch and talk. Wanting to
try to understand why I felt the need to take her car without asking. Dad furious, pacing and throwing his hands in the air. “What gives you the right? Do you have any idea how much we worry? Do you think your actions have no consequences?”