Side Effects May Vary

No. That had to be wrong. You can’t smile—she’s dead. Don’t tell me her pain is gone. Don’t tell me she’ll be at peace. Because she’s not at peace, she’s gone. I wanted to scream all of these things at him. My blood boiled and my knuckles begged to connect with his face. All that anger felt sour in my mouth, but Alice was gone, and now I was waiting for that other half of me to disappear.

“It’s gone, man.” Martin wasn’t the type of guy who spoke like a teenager so he could be hip and “connect with the kids.” He talked like a teenager because he still was one, in a way. But I didn’t hear Martin call me man, which would normally lift at least a corner of my lip. I heard it. I didn’t know what it meant.

“It?” I asked. My voice was too high and strangled, like puberty wasn’t done with me quite yet.

A whole river of tears loomed behind my eyes waiting for the word. I tried to picture myself falling apart on their front porch. I didn’t even care about what I would look like or who would see me. Would they invite me in to comfort me or were they bandaging their own wounds now? Maybe they’d send me back to my car, then call my mom to warn her of the storm. What really stung was that if she was gone, I should have known. I should’ve felt it.

“The cancer.” Martin choked on his words. “She’s in remission.”

Three words. Three words I never thought I would ever hear. Three words that could build enough tomorrows to last me forever.

“Can I come in and see her?” I asked, reaching for the door. Really, I needed proof that she was still here and alive.

He opened the door and stuck his head inside. After whispering a few words to whoever stood in the entryway, he turned back to me. His eyes shifted a little. “She’s resting. Her body’s still got a lot of work to do, but we’ll call Natalie and plan a celebratory dinner.” He shrugged his shoulders, like he was trying to communicate something else to me, but I didn’t get it.

It was the first time they’d ever told me no, the only time they’d ever not let me into their home.

But she was alive. Martin reached for me, and I stood there, shocked, as he hugged me with my arms glued to my sides. He squeezed me so hard that the DVD in my hand slipped from my fingers and clattered to the front porch.

I walked to my car, my feet knowing what to do without my mind ever telling them to do so. We could be together. Alice and I. That could be my life. I unlocked my car and sat behind the wheel for a moment, letting all of last year flood me. She’d have to make up for a lot of lost time at school. But it was okay. It would all be okay. My white-knuckled fingers gripped the peeling steering wheel as a smile tugged at my lips. Pulling the rearview mirror down to face me I saw that I wore the same stupefied smile Martin had worn moments ago.

I shifted gears into reverse, and squinted at Alice’s house before rolling down the driveway. And there she was, watching me through a crack in the blinds of the big bay window in the office. The blinds shifted and she was gone. I told myself every reason why she might not let me in. Especially now, after everything. And then I told myself, it was okay, because now we had time on our side.

What should have been our end had become our beginning.

Alice. Then.

I was dizzy, my sixth dizzy spell in three weeks. The first had been that day in Luke’s car after I’d seen my mom with that man. I thought it was just a reaction to being so overwhelmed, but after the fourth dizzy spell during World History last week, I started to think something might be wrong. But it felt like a dumb thing to go to the doctor for. What was I supposed to say? I saw my mom with some guy, and I’ve been feeling dizzy ever since? I probably needed more iron or something like that. Then last night I woke up shivering and covered in sweat, and now I didn’t know what was wrong.

I sat down on the bench in the locker room. Everyone else had already changed into their school-issued gold shorts and gray T-shirts and left for gym. Closing my eyes, I pulled at the neck of my T-shirt. It felt too close to my throat, like I couldn’t breathe.

“You look really tired.”

I recognized that voice. I took one more deep breath before opening my eyes. Celeste stood a few feet away from me, holding her arms to her chest as she tried to find her T-shirt in her gym bag. She wore a black-and-white-striped bra, the straps cutting deep into her shoulders.

“What are you staring at?” She rolled her eyes as she maneuvered, trying to hide her stomach now too. “Is that your thing now? Staring at girls in the locker room?”