Health & Daily Living
Je réussis toujour les sauts. Ce sont les atterrissages qui me posent des problèmes.
Primero tratan de amenazarme. Después tratan de sobornarme. Y ahora hacen las dos cosas a la vez: tratan de sobornarme y me amenazan si no acepto el soborno.
—Lo único que digo—continuó Wally—es que si le bajaras un poco a la velocidad, sólo un poco, podrías hacer el salto y evitarte las heridas.
—Yo siempre hago los saltos—discutí.
—¿De qué estás hablando?
—Yo hago bien los saltos. Lo que no me sale es el aterrizaje.
The spirits were moaning, a low sound that seemed to be calling the storm toward the beach where Adrien came to a halt, pushing to stay erect in the wind. She was sure the spirits were calling something specific—a short phrase, several words, repeated like the lightning that snaked in the sky. Another sheer burst of white and Adrien stepped forward into the wild lake, the call of the spirit girls, the energy of their brains dying across the sky. Into some understood sameness.
"I'm afraid I have bad news, Brendan. It's leukemia."
It goes right by me. I don't even hear it. I'm so prepared to hear anything else—a virus, mono, meningitis, even avian flu—that it's only when my mom gasps that my mind backs up, rewinds the tape, and I actually hear what he just said.
Leukemia.
I'm going to die.
It can't be.
It must be someone else.
Will it hurt?
Leukemia is for pathetic-looking bald kids with big eyes. Leukemia is for wasted bodies lying in hospital beds. Not me. Is there treatment? Is there a cure?
I'm going to die.
"All I'm saying is that if you took it down a notch or two, you'd make the jumps and save the injuries."
"I always makes the jumps," I argued.
"What are you talking about?"
"I make the jumps. It's the landings that I'm having trouble with."
Mark pulled out his phone. "Her name's Casey. She's almost four." He looked at the image on the screen for a long moment, his mouth twisted into a crooked smile. "Your half sister."
I took the phone from him and stared at the photo. A round-faced girl, smiling, with short dark hair and big eyes. My stomach was full of something much squirmier than butterflies, and my throat was getting all tight.
"Must be hard to be away from her," Mom said.
"It is," Mark said. His voice sounded funny, like he really meant it. Like he could hardly stand to be away from his precious little girl.
I sucked on my bottom lip. He'd been away from me, his other daughter, for my whole life and he hadn't cared at all.
