Friendship
"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.
What had Mac said? Tomorrow everything would be gone. Did she mean herself too?
"I think I'm pregnant."
Derek stared at her, stunned. She stared back.
He finally found his voice. "You say you think. You don't know for sure?"
"I'm almost three weeks late."
"That's it?” Derek brushed by her. "I hear my sisters talking all the time. That's no big deal."
"It's a big deal for me."
"Get off!" I push at him hard, with both hands. The next thing I know, he's pinned my hands over my head. I'm stunned how fast this guy can move. "It seems that we've fallen," he says, like he's talking about the color of his necktie.
Warren stands tall and proud, still gorgeous despite his forced swim. He nods. "I’d like to thank you all for being so gullible, making it so easy for me to steal your beads."
An empty beer can is tossed at Warren's head, and then another.
"Back in the pond," Jerod orders.
"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."
