Send Me a Sign Page 6

  The pain became tolerable. The nausea bearable. The boredom wasn’t. Gyver finished all our summer reading. I’d never known a month could feel so long; I’d run out of things to say to my parents weeks ago. Mom’s refrain was: “I think you look better. Do you feel better?” Dad’s was: “Can I get you anything? Want to play Go Fish?” There was never enough time for Gyver to visit or enough contact with the outside world. I missed the Calendar Girls. I missed Jinx. I missed Ryan, cheering, and my life. I could handle the shots, the bone marrow tests; it was the waiting that was the worst.

  It had been an eternity. A shapeless eternity where days and nights blurred with pain, boredom, and repetition. Where my body belonged more to the doctors and blood counts than me. Where life outside the hospital seemed like another world, one I was no longer a part of.

  Then, five weeks later, it ended. “Your numbers are looking good and holding steady. It’s time we sent you home. Though we’re not done with you just yet. We’ll see you in late September for your first round of consolidation therapy. And, of course, sooner if you’re feeling at all …” Dr. Kevin continued to lecture me on limitations, statistics; Dad took notes.

  My mind locked on the word “home” and tuned out the rest.

  Chapter 7

  My parents were nervous about my homecoming. They tried to hide it, but there was an undercurrent of “now what?” in the looks they exchanged as they carried my bags from the car. Jinx was in cat bliss. She followed me like a puppy, twisted through my legs until I had no choice but to pick her up or trip.

  “I think Gyver overfed Jinx. She feels heavier.” Either that or I was weaker, because my arms began to shake pathetically.

  Mom looked up from the grocery list she was writing for Dad. “You might want to shower and get dressed.”

  I looked at her notepad: quinoa, acai berries, salmon. “What is this stuff? Since when do we eat kale? What is kale?”

  “It’s a superfood. Your dad read about it,” Mom answered defensively. “You’ll like it. You’re a healthy eater, but it couldn’t hurt to eliminate some of the junk food.”

  Healthy eater? Had they seen Iggy’s menu? But she looked so anxious, the pen in her hand was quivering. “I’m sure it’s great.”

  “You’ll love it. It’s good to have you home. I’ve missed you so much.”

  I opened my mouth to ask how she could miss me when she’d spent almost every moment by my side, but she’d already turned away, opening the fridge and clucking at its contents. “I hope no one’s expecting a gourmet dinner. There’s nothing in here for me to work with.”

  “Do you want me to pick something up while I’m out?” Dad began listing options and Mom criticized each in turn.

  I scratched Jinx below the chin. She purred and nuzzled closer. Mom had moved on to complaining about her neglected garden; Dad was scanning the grocery list. I slowly climbed the stairs, plopping Jinx on my bed before heading to the bathroom.

  The shower felt amazing—real water pressure. I took my time, wrapped myself in cozy towels and rested before smoothing on lavender lotion to cover any lingering hospital smells. I twined my hair into two loose braids—pretending not to notice how much had stayed tangled on my fingers and in the drain while shampooing. Digging through my suitcase, I found my horseshoe and rehung it above the bedroom door, picked up Jinx, then headed downstairs.

  Mom unloaded strange foods from Whole Foods bags. New diet, new grocery store: I might be home, but things had changed.

  “Pajamas?” Her face tightened in disappointment. “I thought you might like to get dressed for a change.”

  “I’m not going anywhere today.”

  “But you’re home now. And better. You don’t have to go back there for seven weeks. You don’t need to wear pajamas anymore. People don’t wear pajamas in the middle of the day unless they’re sick.” A box of organic, whole-wheat crackers dented beneath her fingers.

  Dad put a hand on her shoulder. “Relax. If Mia wants to wear pajamas it’s okay. She’s still healthy.”

  Mom inhaled a shaky breath. I noticed she wasn’t dressed in her wrinkled gardening clothes today. She had on khaki capris and a button-down shirt. Her hair was smoothed in a twist and she had on makeup. She looked like Mom again. She needed me to look like Mia.

  “You’re right,” I piped up with a silly-me smile. “What was I thinking? I’ll go change.”

  Mom exhaled and placed the mangled crackers in the pantry. “Well, if that’s what you want.”

  My bed felt too big and soft after so many nights on that thin mattress and stiff hospital sheets. The silence felt hollow, like the air was empty without the soft padding of nurses’ shoes, the squeaky wheel on the meds cart, the giggles and shrieks of kids in the lounge, the falsely positive chatter of visitors stepping into the hallway to “get some air,” the blip of machinery, the scream of alarms, and the buzz of the crash cart. I missed the noise. I’d become accustomed to it, even the annoying rattle of my hospital room’s air conditioner. It was scary to have so much freedom and privacy.

  I was alone for the first time in five weeks. I could breathe without them watching. I could sneeze without raising an alarm.

  I could … cry.

  I’d leaked a tear or two during excruciating moments in the hospital, but these were real tears. Real, pitiful, fear-saturated sobs that shook my bed until Jinx mewed in annoyance and moved. Until I started to feel motion sick and empty. Now-what? tears that had been forbidden during the heavy surveillance of hospital life. Can-I-do-this? tears that would shatter my mother. I’m-so-lonely tears dedicated to the Calendar Girls and the lies I’d told them. My face felt tight and raw. My nose streamed all over the pillowcase.

  “Get a grip,” I told myself in the dark, squeezing my necklace until I could feel a clover-shaped imprint on my palm. With one hand tangled in the chain and the other on Jinx, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 8

  A salon appointment was my first trip out of the house since I’d left the hospital three days ago. I’d slept most of the first two days, grateful to wake up in my own room. Grateful my parents were settling back into hobbies other than watching me: Mom to her neglected gardening and Dad to the pool-shed-turned-astronomy-hideout, which he escaped to each night after dinner.

  The August sunlight reflected off the salon’s windows. My head felt lighter. I’d left more than a foot of blond hair on the salon floor—until my mom had it all gathered and bagged. “I heard about a program where they can make a wig out of your own hair. Just in case.”

  Nurse Snoopy had been right; the thinning wasn’t as noticeable with shorter hair. My phone rang while Mom paid. I tucked a strand of my new bob behind my ear and ducked out the door. “Hey, Ryan.”

  “I hear you’re back in town.”

  “I got home this morning,” I lied.

  “I heard from Chris, who heard it from Hil. How come I didn’t hear it from you?” He sounded a little petulant and a lot sexy.

  “Because I just got home. Are you in East Lake?”

  “At the shore. Come down, we’ll celebrate your escape from the elderly. I’ve got the day off tomorrow and Chris’s mom is totally laid back about people staying over.”

  Mom walked a step away—could she hear? “You want to celebrate my return to PA in Jersey?” I tacked on a teasing laugh.

  Mom heard that—and shook her head. I mouthed, “I know,” and scowled.

  “Well, your return to the Mid-Atlantic. C’mon—we’ll throw a big party and have everyone down. I don’t know anyone who deserves a party more than you, Saint Mia.”

  “I just spent three hours in the car, I don’t want to spend the rest of the day fighting beach traffic.” They were reluctant lies. I’d gleefully sit in traffic if it meant I could flirt, bask in sunshine and Ryan’s smiles, and feel normal again.

  “C’mon. You’re overdue for a party.”

  “I just got home. Jinx’ll never forgive me if I leave again.”
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br />   “Ouch! I rate below your cat?” Ryan laughed. “Fine, if you won’t come see me, I’ll come to you. What are your plans for tomorrow?”

  “I’m meeting the girls at Iggy’s.”

  “I’ll be there. But I want to see you afterward.” His voice dropped into a husky tone that made me blush. “Alone.”

  “Okay,” I managed.

  “What time?”

  “One thirty.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “Bye.” I opened the car door.

  “Ryan’s coming to lunch tomorrow?” Mom asked as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “He’s driving up from the shore.”

  “That’s nice. He’s such a handsome boy. How are you feeling?” She placed one hand on my forehead and fumbled in her purse with the other. She pulled out a thermometer in its plastic case.

  “I can’t believe you have that in your purse,” I said. “What else is in there?”

  “Dr. Kevin said you had to be careful. And that I needed to watch you closely for any signs of illness or infection.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Humor me.” She pressed it into my palm.

  I did. Put the thermometer under my tongue and waited for it to beep. “Perfectly normal. See?” I held it out to her.

  “Thank you.” She took the thermometer back, handing me one of the bottles of antibacterial gel that were sprouting like a fungus around the house, in our cars, and inside all my purses.

  “Do you think they’ll guess? Do I look okay?” In the hospital everyone was sick so I blended in. In the real world I felt like a frail, pale-faced freak.

  She leaned over and clasped my chin with her hand, forcing me to look at her. “You’re beautiful. Always.”

  Her voice was too earnest to respond with an eye roll. “Thanks.”

  “It’s true. Anyway, the haircut’s adorable and with some makeup and strategic clothing choices, no one will suspect a thing.”

  I tugged the clasp of my necklace to the back and made a wish for acceptance. “I might tell them—now that I’m home. What do you think?”

  Mom was quiet for a long time. She stared out the windshield at the parking meter. “I don’t want you to regret anything, kitten. Once you tell, you can’t take it back. They may not handle it well. You need to be prepared for their reactions.”

  “What do you think they’d do?” I asked.

  “We know how Ally’ll be. The others … I don’t know. I love Lauren, but she’s not very tolerant or patient. And Hillary? I can never guess how that girl is going to react.”

  I tried to picture telling Ryan and saw his come here look melt into stay away. “The hard part of treatment’s over, so it’ll get easier to hide, right?”

  Mom hugged me. “I can’t tell you what to do. It’s got to be your choice. Whatever you decide will be right; do what you think is best.”

  “I just want things back to normal.” Or I wanted a clear sign for how to proceed.

  “They will be.” She smoothed a strand of my hair and started the car. “Soon it will be like this all never happened.”

  Chapter 9

  After trying and rejecting a dozen outfits, I settled on white shorts and a navy-and-white-striped long-sleeved shirt. Mom helped with makeup, stepping forward to daub on color, stepping back to examine the effect. The result was more makeup than I usually wore, but I looked less pale and sickly. Once ready, I fretted and called Gyver. “Will you come with me?”

  “Your goal’s to pretend everything’s normal, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then my coming isn’t going to help. I don’t normally hang out with your cheer friends and The Jock.”

  “I guess.” I frowned at the mirror.

  “You’re going to be okay. They’re your friends. You miss them. Remember?”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t sound enthusiastic.

  “How about this? I’ll call a friend. We’ll grab a late lunch at Iggy’s before my band rehearses. That won’t be suspicious. But if you need me, I’ll be there.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. But you won’t need me. You’re going to be fine, Mi.”

  I was fifteen minutes late because I sat in my car and flipped through the radio for a song sign. The distance between my friends and me stretched from the month behind me to the parking lot in front of me. I should’ve been running through the diner’s door, but the radio was being uncooperative and I was glued to my seat. One hand clenched my necklace, the other jabbed at the Scan button: an unintelligible rap, a commercial for laser eye surgery, a schmaltzy long-distance dedication. And then my sign: No Doubt’s “Don’t Speak” on one of Mom’s easy-listening stations.

  The lyrics taunted me, sucking the oxygen from my lungs and making my hand shake as it reached for the radio’s Off button. The A/C felt too cold, the car too small. I gritted my teeth and opened the door.

  Everyone was already seated in a corner booth. It was déjà vu of our last meeting, only they were the same and I wasn’t.

  The song was a sign, and my friends’ appearances reinforced it; they looked … healthy. After a month of seeing hospital-pale patients, it hurt to take in Hillary’s toasted-almond tan, Ally’s new blonder-blond highlights, and the sunburn balanced across the bridge of her nose. Even fair-skinned Lauren was freckled and pink-cheeked.

  Then Ryan stood up and my breath caught. His hair was bleached to the color of sunlit sand. His blue eyes glowed from within the faint outline of his Oakley’s tan line. A jolt passed through his hand squeezing mine before it was ripped away by Hil’s fierce hug.

  “Miss me?” Her grip revealed her feelings.

  Before I could answer, Ally chimed in, “Mia! You’re never allowed to go away for that long again.”

  Hil’s hug and musky perfume were replaced by Ally’s grapefruit lotion, then Lauren’s vanilla body splash. But all of these were erased when Ryan wrapped me in his arms—smelling of beach, sunshine, and … him. He swung my feet off the floor, twirled me once, then set me down. Casual, like he did so every day, he pressed his lips to my cheek and whispered the words I’d been thinking, “I forgot how good you smell.”

  Chris nodded his greeting from the booth, where Lauren was climbing across his lap to reclaim her Diet Coke. He was cute, but cute compared to Ryan’s sexy. He smirked at Ryan’s display and my shocked face. “Hey, Mia. Someone’s either really horny or he missed you.”

  I’m sure Hil smacked him, but I was dizzily being tugged away from Ryan so Ally could grab a second hug before pulling me down into the booth beside her.

  “What’d you do to your hair?” Lauren asked.

  I forced a quick laugh. “I tried to get it cut and highlighted in Connecticut. Oops.”

  “Why? It was so long and gorgeous,” Hil said. “You’re supposed to call me before you make any big beauty decisions, remember? We pinky-promised after I dyed my hair with Jell-O in eighth grade.”

  I laughed. “I totally forgot about that. Your head smelled like lime for a week.”

  She grinned at me. “It wasn’t my smartest decision—especially since I used my mom’s good towels. Oh, before I forget, Cobb salad with fat-free Italian on the side, right? That’s what I ordered you, so if you want something different, you need to grab the waitress.”

  “Actually, I kinda want a cheesesteak. You can’t get a good one in Connecticut.” I craved real, nonhospital food.

  “Really?” Lauren asked. “But that’s so fat—er, fried.”

  “And a vanilla milkshake.” After a month of vomiting, I wasn’t worried about calories.

  “I’ll go tell the waitress,” Ryan offered, slipping out of the booth.

  Hil was still studying me. “Where are the highlights?”

  “I don’t see any either,” Lauren agreed, kneeling up on the booth and tipping her head to examine me like a lab specimen.

  “It didn’t take—my hair had a weird reaction and burned. It was a mess.”

 
“Oh my God!” Ally squeezed my arm in sympathy. “I’m never getting my hair cut in Connecticut! Poor you.”

  “It’ll grow back.” Turning to Lauren and Hil I added, “It’s just hair.”

  “I’d kill for your blond.” Hil blew her perfect brown bangs out of her eyes and reached out to take a lock of my hair. I scooted away, bumping into Ryan, who was sitting back down.

  “If you want to sit in my lap, all you have to do is ask.” He smiled but I was too overwhelmed to echo it or joke.

  “How’s your pops doing?” Ally asked. “And are you okay? That must’ve been so hard!”

  “He’s doing great. Really, really well. Thanks.”

  Hil continued her critique. “You don’t look like our Summer Girl! Didn’t your grandparents let you out in the sun? And I thought Lauren was pale.”

  I swallowed and tried to look casual, but Hil was circling. She could tell something was off—we’d been close for far too long for her not to pick up on whatever vibe I was projecting—and I knew she wouldn’t rest until she’d figured it out.

  “I’m a redhead. You know I don’t tan, I burn and freckle,” Lauren grumbled.

  Ryan picked up my arm and compared it to his own. “You’ve got some serious catching up to do.” He slipped both our hands under the table and didn’t let go.

  I forced myself to join in the laughter and smile at the Casper and albino jokes. So many lies needed to be remembered, topics avoided, questions dodged. Ryan and I didn’t usually hold hands. Or we hadn’t before. My palm sweated and I was sure he felt my pulse pounding.

  “Hey, neighbor. Didn’t know you were back. Hi, guys.” Gyver’s deep voice cut across the good-natured criticism. My racing heart slowed as he approached.

  Hillary batted her eyelashes and Lauren smiled supersonically. Gyver didn’t look at them.

  “Hey.” My tension melted. I poked Ryan and he stood to let me out of the booth.