Radiate (22 page)

“Good job, Little Kid,” Dad says. “Promise me that’s how you’ll always do it.”

“As long as I have to,” I say. “I’ll be bolting up them in no time.”

“That’a girl,” Dad says, tugging my hair. He heads back downstairs.

I round the corner, past my bathroom, and smile as I walk into my room. Mom has already brought stuff up and left it on the dresser. There’s a large box overflowing with get-well cards, the cheer basket the BHS cheerleaders brought me, and the two plants. On the far wall, a “Welcome Home, Hayley” banner is pinned to my curtains.

“Your dad printed that out at the store,” Mom notes.

He’s the sweetest thing, ever!

Other than that, everything is pretty much how I left it. My canopy bed is made up and all my stuffed animals are in place among the pile of pillows. There’s an indentation in the red satin comforter where Leeny has, no doubt, been sleeping. She leaps onto the bed and curls up there to prove me right.

“Leave the clothes from your suitcase out in the hallway and I’ll wash them for you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mom.”

“I want to. Anything to help.”

I lower myself to the bed and sigh as I sink into the familiar surroundings.

Mom kisses me on the head and then leaves me to myself.

I’m home.

In my room. Back on my turf.

The smell of freshly laundered sheets and the Lysoled bathroom.

The crunch of a small piece of kitty litter on the carpet that Leeny must have been playing with.

The safety and security of the familiar.

And I couldn’t be happier.

When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something’s suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful.

—Barbara Bloom

The moment I step (okay, swing) into the door at Polk High School, chill bumps dance up and down my forearms.

Eyes are all over me. Jovial smiles fade, replaced by curious glances. Conversations stop and whispers begin.

A sea of students parts to make room for me to pass. The girl on the crutches.

The girl who had...
cancer.

Are they judging me? Feeling sorry for me? Poking fun at me?

My pulse triples its cadence as I make my way through the school.

Beads of perspiration spring up on the back of my neck.

Nerves jitter under the surface of my skin.

Faces and expressions mix together in a tossed salad of anxiety. I never expected a welcoming party when I slid through the glass doors of PHS, but I’d hoped for a wave or a grin or two instead of this scrutinization. It’s not like I’m the first student to ever be hobbling down the hall on crutches. Just last year, Keegan Bryce wrecked out hard on his mountain bike and had a cast from ankle to hip.

Maybe I’m simply being paranoid.

“Hayley!” a familiar voice calls out to me in the hallway.

Lora Russell bursts through the crowd and hugs me with all her might. “I’m sooooo happy to see you! I would have come over this weekend, but Mom and Uncle Ross and I went to Gulf Shores to his condo. We went jet skiing and it was so much fun.” Her pretty face falls. “I’m completely insensitive. Who cares about me? You’re here! You look awesome, and it’s so good to have you back.”

I hug her the best I can while balancing on my right leg. “I missed you, too.”

“We’re sharing a locker,” she says, pointing to number 227 on the wall of gray. “I snagged a top one so you don’t have to stoop down.”

“You’re the best,” I say as I attempt to unwind the knotted ball of nerves inside me and pretend I’m just another student stashing books and notepads. Still, the stares of passing students brush against me like a ghostly figure. “Does everyone, like, know what happened to me this summer?”

Lora’s eyes shift about. “That you were in the hospital? Yeah, I guess. You’re a cheerleader, so you’re kind of in the spotlight, you know?”

“I suppose.” The life of a PHS Pop is still something I’m getting used to as much as learning to walk straight again.

“Oh, look what I got you!” Lora nearly bounces in place with her excitement. She tugs out a navy blue L.L. Bean canvas backpack with the initials
HAM
embroidered on it. (Yes, my initials are
HAM
for Hayley Ann Matthews.) “It’s so you can carry your books to class while you’re still on crutches.”

She’s the sweetest thing ever, and I hug her again, holding tight to her like an anchor in these tumultuous waters.

“I’m scared, Lora,” I whisper to her.

“Don’t be,” she says quietly into my hair. “I’m here for you.”

“I’m here for you, too,” a male voice echoes.

I push away from my partner and see Gabriel, my good, old friend, standing behind Lora and smiling from ear to ear.

“It’s good to see you upright, Hay,” he says teasingly.

I spread my arms wide, careful to hold the crutches in my armpits. “What can I say? I’m a modern medical miracle.”

Gabriel’s dark eyes smile out at me. “I’m sure you will be. Remember, I’m here to help in any way you need me.”

“I’m taking you up on that, Gabriel.”

“Hayley! You’re here!” Hannah, Melanie, and Tara join us at the lockers, and they attack hug me. It’s a cheerleading reunion. “We missed you so much,” Tara says.

“I missed all of y’all,” I say through the emotional lump in my throat. These are my peeps, my comrades in cheerleading arms, the chicas I spent so much time with this summer before everything changed. They are the same ones I let down with my absence from camp, but the very ones who voted against the captain to keep me on the team.

“You heard we kicked Emmanuel’s ass on Friday night, right?” Melanie asks.

Hannah grabs my hand. “It was amazing. Daniel caught a sixty-eight-yard pass in the beginning of the fourth and ran it in untouched for a touchdown to put us ahead.”

My heartbeat picks up at her description. I wish I could have been there to see Daniel triumphantly soaring into the end zone.

Chin up, I say, “He’ll just have to do it again this Friday against Highland High. I know I’ll be there on the sidelines.”

A collective whoop arises from my teammates, and my body comes alive. I’m okay. Despite my lengthy absence, I’m still part of the group.

Then reality crashes in a bit. “Can you cheer while you’re still on crutches?” Tara asks.

At that moment, the energy around our group changes as the spicy orange scent of Chloe Bradenton’s expensive perfume wafts into our circle. We part like the Red Sea.

“Yes, Hayley, how will you cheer when you’re”—her eyes slide over my crutches and settle on my bandaged leg—“well... still incapacitated.”

She says the word as if it’s a witch’s curse.

I foster up a good strong ounce of courage and square my shoulders. Chloe is very definitely out to get me, so I kill her with kindness.

“Hey, Chloe,” I say forcefully. “Great to see you. And don’t you worry about me. My doctor said I can’t run or jump on this leg, but the rest of me can do anything. I’m back in business.”

She starts to sneer at me. Lora’s voice interrupts with, “Isn’t that great, Chloe?”

Chloe smiles a saccharine-sweet one for the gathered crowd. “It is. Nice to have a full squad again. We’re so happy to have you back, Hayley. We’re all behind you one hundred percent.”

“Thanks, Chloe.” And I honestly believe she means it. I’m sure it was hard trying to compete at camp without a full team. I know we didn’t win, and winning was Chloe’s dream as captain. My chest tightens knowing I prevented someone else’s hopes from happening. I’m here now, and I plan to make up the loss not just to Chloe, but to the whole team. “I can’t wait for practice,” I say excitedly.

“Definitely,” Chloe says. “Three p.m. sharp.”

“Absolutely,” Hannah says, too.

Another looming figure joins the melee in front of my locker. “There’s my girl,” I hear, and my heart does that zippy roller coaster thing down to my stomach and back up.

Daniel pushes through the crowd and reaches out for me, gathering me to him. I’m literally consumed in his broad chest and I take in the freshly showered smell of his skin. It’s been so long since I’ve been near him, felt his strong muscles, and relaxed into the comfort of his arms.

I hug him the best I can as I balance on the crutches. “Here, lean on me,” he says. Then he adjusts his stare at Chloe and says, “It’s great to have Hayley back in the cheerleading lineup. We’re going to need all the school spirit we can get if we’re going to go undefeated this season.”

My flirt gene comes out of its long hibernation stage. “I heard you had quite a night Friday. Hate that I missed that.”

“No worries,” he says with confidence. “I’ll score a touchdown for you this week.”

I’d probably melt into a puddle of goo if both Daniel and my crutches weren’t holding me up. His hand finds its way into my hair, and he strokes the strands with conviction, as if to say he’s serious about his promise.

I feel less of an anomaly and more like a regular girl starting her senior year.

Lora winks her approval at me. Even Chloe nods as she turns to go off to her class.

Daniel lowers his mouth close to my ear. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Just let me know.”

A blush tickles my cheeks, and I smile up at him.

The bell for first period rings out, and our small tribunal disperses.

Daniel squeezes my shoulder. “See you at lunch.”

As I begin shuffling down the hall, Gabriel joins me. “AP English?”

“Yeah... you too?”

He cocks his head to the right. “This way.”

My school year has begun.

***

People seriously don’t know how to treat me.

Even the teachers seem knocked off their game.

Mrs. Joseph, the AP English Lit teacher, certainly doesn’t have any kind of poker face when I hobble into the classroom with Gabriel.

“Oh my God, Hayley Matthews!” she shouts out at me. “I was so sorry to hear about your”—she scans the room to see if anyone’s listening and then she whispers the word—“
cancer.
”

“It’s okay, Mrs. J. It’s all gone. Cut out. Chemo’d and radiated.”

“It’s just such a sad thing for a teenager to go through.” She emphasizes her words with her hand to her heart.

Gabriel steps in. “It’s a horrible thing for anyone to go through. Hayley’s gonna be all right, though. She’s tough.”

I smile up at my friend. Yeah, I guess I am if I’ve made it this far.

The teacher continues to whisper. “I’ll keep you in my prayers, Hayley.”

“Thanks for that.” I don’t really get why I need prayers now. The cancer is gone. What else can happen? I’m still me, only minus a bone and some nasty, icky lesion.

“Take your seat, dear. If you need to leave for any reason during class, just do it. I’ll understand.”

“Um... okay.”

Gabriel grins like crazy. “Carte blanche, my friend.” Then his face grows serious. “You know I’m here for you, too, right?”

“Thanks, Gabriel. I appreciate that.”

“I’m not kidding. I won’t mollycoddle you or treat you differently, no matter what.” He speaks with such conviction, I feel he’s talking from some sort of experience. He leaves it at that, though.

“Thanks. Everything’s going to be fine now. I just have to work out and get my leg in shape while it heals. I’m meeting with Coach Carnes this afternoon to show him what the physical therapist in Birmingham suggested I work on.”

“Cool,” Gabriel says, then adds, “Hey I’ve got P.E. last period, and I’m training the football players on their workouts. Tell Coach Carnes to get me a copy of the exercises and I’ll help you out on the machines. I know some good stuff to help build your strength back up.”

“Awesome.” I smile at my friend who not only wants to help me, but he’s treating me the same as he always has.

I sit back and take the syllabus Mrs. Joseph hands to me. Should be an interesting class. There’s poetry from W. H. Auden to William Butler Yeats, drama from Edward Albee to Tennessee Williams; fiction from Kingsley Amis to Virginia Woolf, and expository prose that includes Ralph Waldo Emerson and even Norman Mailer.

Good. Back to my education. Rounding out my senior year with the last advanced placement classes to impress colleges. I can’t believe how excited I am to delve into all of this reading, analysis of the words, and composition. Same with my economics, French, and other classes. Being back on the terra firma of the PHS school grounds makes me feel much more myself now. I’m the senior, the cheerleader, the normal girl finishing up high school.

“This should be fun,” Gabriel notes, seated next to me in the second row. “My old school didn’t have the AP classes like here, so I’m glad to get this on my record.”

“Where do you want to go to college?” I ask quietly as Mrs. Joseph flits about the room.

Gabriel shrugs. “I want to study engineering, so I have a lot of choices. Cornell, Carnegie Mellon, MIT, Georgia Tech, but those all cost an arm and a leg, which is no surprise.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. I think Mom and Dad used to have a small savings account for my college fund. However, after my medical bills, I have no idea if any of that is left.

“I’m applying to a bunch of places for financial aid and scholarships, so we’ll see what happens. Where are you applying?”

What do I even want to do when I grow up?

“Bama as my first choice. Miami or maybe UGA as backups.”

Gabriel grins. “All party schools.”

“All football schools.” What can I say? Girlfriend loves her college gridiron. Both of my parents went to The University of Alabama, and crimson is in my blood. I want to be a part of that community. As for what I want to do as a career, I guess I need to start figuring that out.

In good time.

For now, I’m happy to be one of the many schmucks here at PHS just trying to make it through the day. No more medical drama or feeling sorry for myself. I’m finally where I want to be.

Mrs. Joseph says, “Let’s start with some Emily Dickinson this morning, why don’t we?”