Send Me a Sign (26 page)

“Mia? Are you in here?” Meagan’s concerned voice floated from the bathroom doorway. I’d emptied my stomach into the toilet and was gasping for breath.

My “here” was feeble. I closed my eyes and gathered the strength to unlock the stall door.

She stood above me, horrified—her face the same color as the off-white walls. “You need to go to the doctor.”

I leaned my head back against the stall, too tired to support it unassisted.

“I’ll go get Gyver—he’s in study hall.” She passed me a paper towel and used a shaking hand to brush my hair from my mouth.

“Can you get Ryan?” Gyver still wasn’t talking to me; I didn’t want him here if he was only doing it as a favor for
her
. “He’s in history—Mr. Yusella.”

An emotion passed over Meagan’s face, but I’d closed my eyes before I could identify it. “I’ll be right back. Hang in there.”

I might have dozed or blacked out. Ryan’s voice sounded far away, but when I opened my eyes he was kneeling beside me. “Hey, you. Tip your head back.”

I complied. My face felt sticky and my lips tasted salty as well as sour.

Ryan cradled my head with one hand as he pinched a paper towel to my bloody nose with the other. “Are you going to be sick again?”

I spoke around the paper towel. “I don’t think so.”

Meagan hovered, wetting another paper towel and holding it out. “You probably can’t get the blood out of your shirt without washing it, but this will help get it off your face.”

I reached for it, but my arm dropped limply in my lap. Ryan shifted awkwardly so he could cradle my head and pinch my nose with one hand and use the other to wipe off my face.

“I can go get the nurse,” Meagan offered, already fleeing for the door.

“No. Ryan, please just take me home,” I protested. “Dad’s there.”

Meagan paused and wrung her hands. “What can I do?”

“Tell the office,” Ryan said.

“And tell the girls I got sick. I don’t want to start anything with Hil when we just made up.” I tried to smile, but gagged instead.

Ryan shifted to hold my head over the toilet, but I protested, “I’m okay.”

“Okay’s not the word that comes to mind right now. Your nose stopped bleeding. Can you stand?” Ryan tossed the paper towels in the trash can attached to the stall.

“I’ll try.” He tightened his arms around my waist and helped me up. I sagged against him and struggled on legs that felt mushy.

“Can I do anything else?” asked Meagan. She was weaving her fingers into anxious knots.

“Could you go get my bag? I left it at my desk,” I asked.

“I’ll meet you in the foyer.” She looked at her watch. “You should get going, class ends in ten minutes. You don’t want to be in the hall when the bell rings.”

“Thanks.” Ryan offered a grim smile.

As Meagan reached for the bathroom door, it was opened from the outside, revealing a startled underclassman. She did a double-take then stepped out of the way to let us pass.

“Mia? You okay?”

I blinked at the girl; I knew her. A freshman on the squad. The good tumbler. Monica.

“Mia has the flu. Can you tell Hil or Ally she went home sick?” Ryan answered for me.

“That stinks! Feel better. Hopefully it’s one of those twenty-four-hour things so you’re better for tomorrow’s game.” She lowered her voice and added, “And the party! I can’t wait.”

I leaned against Ryan. He guided me forward and called “thanks” over his shoulder.

Meagan was in the front hall with my bag. “Just feel better, Mia. Please.”

Chapter 33

I fought Dad about the hospital, but only weakly. I hated ruining Mom’s special dinner, but it was obvious something was very wrong.

“Oh, Mia, my dear, feel free to stop by and visit if you miss us. There was no need for you to catch the flu,” Dr. Kevin said with a jovial pat on my shoulder.

I was too tired to even whimper. The medications, bed, the flu: I buckled under the stresses and demands of the past week and shut my eyes.

I slept eighteen hours and woke up on Friday feeling better-ish and also worse. Frustrated. I wasn’t going home today; East vs. Green would proceed without me. I’d been foolish to mark it on my calendar; arrogant to assume I had any control over my life. Just recording the game on the tiny square marked October eleven was asking to be proven wrong. Hope can be the most dangerous emotion, because when it’s destroyed, it’s deadly.

I dozed most of the day, played cards with Dad—reminded him repeatedly to grab my horseshoe next time he went home—worried about how overwhelmed Ryan looked when he dropped me off yesterday, and the fact that Mom had run interference on calls from Ally and Hil but I hadn’t heard from Lauren.

I didn’t want to call her—she was right, the hospital was boring and I didn’t want to be a burden. Plus, I was busy trying to calm an increasingly frazzled Mom. She’d “spent too much time in hospitals lately.” I swallowed the words “less time than I have” and tacked on some mental swearing.

The nurses, and even patient Dr. Kevin, were starting to be annoyed by her endless questions. “How could she get sick? She was just here—did you release her too soon? Have you given her enough medication? The right medications? Do we need a second opinion? She’s okay, right? She will be?”

“Mom, it’s the flu. I’ll be fine in a few days—they’ve explained,” I said with my last ounce of patience. I was in pajamas and Gyver’s cap; her eyes glossed over me without settling.

“Of course you’ll be fine, kitten. I’m just making sure you’re getting the best care possible.”

“We’re doing everything we can,” soothed Nurse Hollywood.

“Well, what can I do?” Mom asked, breaking into loud sobs.

Dad was by her side in two steps. The nurse stepped up also, snagging the box of tissues from my bedside table. I tried to untuck myself from the blanket and untangle my IV lines and join them.

“No one has any idea how hard it is for me!” she cried.

I stopped struggling to get out of bed. “I have no idea how hard it is for
you
?”

Dad caught my eye. “She doesn’t mean it like that. Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested to Mom.

She ignored us. “I never leave. I spend more time in the hospital than at work. I can’t even plan a dinner without everything going to hell. No one understands.”

Dad continued to try and calm Mom. I stared at the ceiling and locked my jaw to keep my mental f-bombs from escaping.

“It’s not fair,” she cried. “This isn’t supposed to be my life.”

That was my line. She wasn’t allowed to steal it.

“Want to know what’s not fair?” I demanded in a voice I didn’t recognize. “That you think of my cancer as an inconvenience to your life. It’s not fair you get to throw fits and I have to pretend everything’s perfect.”

“Kiddo …” Dad stepped to the middle of the room—an arm stretched in either direction, like he wanted to comfort us both. Or hold us apart. The nurses excused themselves.

Mom paled. “Why would you say such cruel, hurtful things to me?” She inserted herself in Dad’s arms. “Did you hear that?”

“Because they’re true! Your dinner was canceled and you had to miss work. Poor you! This is my life.” I gestured to the wires, poles, and machinery. “I’m sorry it interferes with yours. Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll die. Then you won’t have to worry about missing a dinner again.”

The silence was a chasm filled with shock, anger, hurt, and disbelief. Dad bridged it first. “Um. Okay. Everyone calm down. Let’s discuss this—”

“No. I don’t want to talk or even see you right now. I need a break from Mom or we’ll both regret the things I’ll say. Just go home. We’ll talk tomorrow; I need some space.”

“You’re sure?” asked Dad, but Mom was already packing her knitting. “I love you, kiddo,” he said with a tight hug.

Mom was silent for a long time. Pacing the room with her purse on one arm and her coat draped over the other. Finally she paused and pointed a scolding finger at me.

“I know you only said those things because you’re cranky about being sick and missing the big game, so I forgive you.” She paused, but I didn’t look at her or acknowledge her magnanimous gesture. She sighed. “I want you to think about this tonight. We’ll see you tomorrow.” I tried not to flinch when she kissed my forehead. I didn’t exhale until the door shut behind them.

“Rough day?” Ryan asked.

“My mother is a self-centered bitch.” I had no place to direct my anger, so it had only grown fiercer.

He squeezed my hand but judiciously changed the subject. “I got your shirt from Ally.” He draped an East Lake spirit shirt over a chair—it was too fitted for me to wrangle over my pajamas and IV lines.

“Do you think I should tell them? I was going to, but then there was the thing with Lauren and the thing with Hil.” I was weighted down with guilt and itchy with lies. Panic hovered an inch away, looking for a place to land.

“I’ve always thought you should,” he confessed.

“You never said.”

“I figured it was your decision and if you wanted my opinion, you’d ask.”

Even Ryan thought I was wrong? If the only supporter of secrecy was Mom, what did that say about how rational the idea was? I nodded at the wall, seeing my idiocy written on its blank surface. It was illogical, but I was irritated—why hadn’t he told me? What else did he disapprove of?

“What’s going on in there?” Ryan traced a finger across my forehead.

“Nothing.” Lots, but nothing I felt like sharing.

“You sure? You look pretty intimidating right now.” Ryan’s cell rang.

“Go ahead and answer.” My words were clipped.

“Hello? Yeah, sure.” Ryan gave me a puzzled look and covered the receiver. “It’s Hil. For you.”

I almost dropped the phone, I wasn’t prepared for everything to happen this fast. “Hey. Why are you calling Ryan’s phone?”

“Thought it might be the only way to actually get you. And it worked, didn’t it? How are you?”

Despite my recent vow to tell, I offered a partial truth. “It’s no big deal; I have the flu.”

“Cut the crap, Mia. What’s really going on?” Her concern morphed into frustration.

“Hillary …”

“No more lies—Monica said she saw Ryan carry you out of the bathroom and you were covered in blood. What the hell happened?”

I let go of the cover stories, excuses, lies, and pretending. I was done. “You’re right. I’m not fine.”

“I knew it! Why all the super secrecy?” Her voice was bright with triumph, then fizzled into concern. “What’s going on? Why won’t you tell me?”

I took a deep breath and looked at Ryan. I remembered the day I’d told him: the hours, tears, and questions. This wasn’t something I could dump on her over the phone. “Can you get the girls together tomorrow? I’d rather tell you all at once.”

“Just tell me now. I’m really worried. Do you want me to come over?”

“No. It can wait.”

“Don’t play martyr, Mia. If you’re not okay, I’m coming. It’s just a game. I can miss it.”

I forced a smile into my voice. “Just a game? It’s East-Green!” I needed time to plan this. After all the damage I’d done, I needed to get this perfect. Hil had apologized to me about Ryan, but wasn’t what I’d done even worse?

“Promise you’ll call tomorrow? No excuses?”

“Promise. Have fun tonight.” I shut off the phone and sighed.

“Once you make up your mind, you don’t mess around,” Ryan said. “Want me to stay?”

“No, just go. You can tell me about it tomorrow.” Irrational or not, I was annoyed with him. With life. My insides churned like a lava lamp, each new emotion burbling up and changing my outlook: rage, betrayal, remorse, irritation.

“I don’t mind staying.” Ryan reached over and took one of my hands, tracing the lines on my palm before threading his fingers through. “Maybe then you’ll realize I’m serious and finally admit we’re dating.”

The lava lamp exploded and I was drowning in a kaleidoscope of feeling. “Please don’t do this tonight. I really don’t want to get into it right now.” I tried to pull my fingers back, but Ryan tightened his grip.

“Then when? Tell me when’s a good time because I’ve been patient. Whether or not you allow people to call me your boyfriend doesn’t change the fact that I pretty much am.”

He was studying me so intently I had to look away. I stared at our interlaced fingers, then at the other hand he put on top of our clasped ones.

“Why take that risk? I just don’t want to lose you as a friend if we don’t work.”

“Don’t give me that!” Ryan stood, pulling his hands away and leaving mine cold. He dragged them through his hair and grasped the back of his neck. “Goddamn it, Mia, that’s bullshit! We may not work out, so don’t even try? When did you turn into a coward?”

He sat on the edge of my bed so suddenly it startled me. My pulse jumped in surprise and then kept racing because he was so close. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel anything for me. I know you do.”

His blue eyes were so close and I wanted to get lost in them like I had so many other times. Have him make me forget about medications and fights and everything but feeling beautiful and wanted. If I could have just a few moments of that, maybe the rest would make sense too.