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Authors: Jen Frederick

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BOOK: The Charlotte Chronicles
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4
Charlotte


D
o
you think I should just shave my head or wait until the hair falls off during radiation?” I close one eye and lift my long hair off my neck. The mirror says it’s a bad look. At the base of my head, there’s a shaved patch of skin where they opened me up to remove the cancerous cells; they were so precise that they only needed to shave a small section. The upper strands of hair cover that bare spot . . . but not for long.

“Are you going to get a pirate patch?” Nick asks. He is lying on the hospital bed next to me, playing on his DS. Mom and Dad had an extra wide hospital bed moved in here after the surgery because someone is always lying next to me. Not that I minded, but I didn’t even know that they made beds bigger.  The nurses grumbled because apparently it is harder to take my vitals when one side is squished by the body of some teenager.

Friends from school started coming over when I could finally have visitors, three days after surgery, and invariably they end up beside me. Most of the time, though, it’s Nate. He is here every night like a giant, muscle-bound teddy bear. He’d disappeared after my surgery but came back late that night and sat with Mom for hours until she left to get something. Then he nudged me over. I like it more than I should because I’m sure that Nate is just being brotherly. But it’s a nice change from him always giving me a hard time.

His default mood for the last year has been pissed off. Even Nick gives him a wide berth. When I got sick, I was sure he was thinking I’d ruined something for him and that’s why he ran off during my surgery.  But now he’s back to being big brother Nate. Unfortunately, I have some not-so-fraternal feelings toward him.

But a girl with a tube in her neck, a slightly enlarged noggin, and a bald head isn’t going to get someone like Nate to notice her in
that
way, particularly when the only attention I got from him before was mostly criticism about everything from how messy my hair was to how short my skirts were. I should probably just enter the nunnery now.

“No, why? You think that goes with a bald head?” I ask Nick, trying to shove Nate out of my thoughts. I have weird feelings toward Nate, and I’m not really up for dissecting them right now.

“I’m wondering why you are closing one eye.”

I punch Nick in the shoulder. “I’m just trying to see it from a different perspective.”

Nick sets down the DS and pushes me upright. He pulls up the hair tight and away from my face. And then 
he
 closes one eye and then the other. “I think we should shave our heads today.”

“We?”

“Hell yeah.” Nick looks at me like I’m bonkers. “You know I’m shaving my head in solidarity. A bunch of us are. Even your gymnastics team is talking about it.”

Maybe it’s the drugs, but I start to cry. It’s too kind of a gesture.

“Ah shit, don’t cry.” Nick awkwardly pats me on the shoulder, but I can’t stop leaking water everywhere. I’m afraid and I’m grateful to my friends and I love my family and everything that is going on is overwhelming me.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hear Nick say as he moves off the bed. I want to call out to him that I’m fine, but I can’t because I’m really not fine.  What Nick doesn’t say and that we both know is that I have to shave my hair off because they’ve already taken a hunk of it off to operate on my head. And who the heck cares about my hair when they are planning to stick a plastic tube down the back of my neck to drain off the excess fluid that is now collecting in my brain? And there’s the fact that since the surgery I have had a hard time comprehending reading or writing words down. It’d be a struggle to compete at a second grade spelling bee right now.

I know I should be so happy that I made it out of surgery, but all I can think of is how my seven years of gymnastics training are being flushed down the toilet; how everyone will stare at me when I go back to school; how my mom won’t stop looking at me like she’s afraid the next breath will be my last.  My mom is never worried. She’s this business powerhouse who can climb giant mountains.  But she’s afraid, which tells me I should be shitting my pants.

So I can’t stop crying even though I’m making Nick feel so bad he has to leave the room.  The bed dips and a pair of strong arms gather me up. It’s Nate. I recognize his smell, and it makes me cry even harder because I have such a stupid, idiotic crush on him and I’m afraid no one will want to marry me because I don’t have any hair.

“You’ve done what legions of other girls at school wish they had the power to do.”

“What’s that?” I mumble into Nate’s cotton-covered chest.

“Make Nick leave them alone.”

Nate’s bad joke prompts a watery giggle, and I’m able to quell my hysterics. Pushing away, I wipe ineffectually at my wet face. Nate nudges my hands aside and sops up the tears with a couple of hospital tissues that are about as soft as notebook paper. I notice that the clock says it’s just after one in the afternoon.

“Isn’t your dad making you guys go to school?” It’s Thursday. At least I think it is. I’ve been here since Saturday.

“Nope. Your little brain tumor is getting us out of school for the week. Mom’s orders.” Nate leans back against the pillows of the hospital bed. Even though the bed is slightly larger, his big frame takes up most of the space so that when I lean back I have to rest partially against his chest. I remind myself that Nate is like my brother. Just a brother.  Like Nick.

If only I could just convince myself of that.

M
om and Dad kick Nate
out later that afternoon to share “good news” with me.

Unfortunately I don’t understand what they’re saying. Like, I know what all the words mean individually, but I am having a hard time putting it all together. And it’s making me angry. “Stop. Just stop,” I say. Or maybe I shout it because Mom presses her lips together, a sure sign she is disappointed.

The doctor had come in earlier to tell me that they didn’t think the tumor had resulted in any brain damage and that I was still as smart as always, only that now I might see some changes in how I used the information in my head.  And that I might be more emotional now because I had a reduced ability to control my feelings.

I guess that explains why I am crying all the mother loving time.  I am sick of crying. I am sick of the hospital. I don’t want to go to surgery this afternoon to have a port put in so that it is more convenient for them to put drugs into my body. I don’t want to undergo several courses of radiation therapy to make sure all my tumor cells are killed off.

I guess the good thing is that after I get the port put in, I can wear actual pajamas and not the hospital gown. And they’ll move me out of the main hospital into an adjacent facility with a big room that overlooks the city. Just like at home.  Only it will still be in a hospital.

I’m missing school and gymnastics practice. Nick tried to cheer me up earlier by saying that I’d gotten too tall for gymnastics anyway. I had grown a little in the last year, and some of the maneuvers weren’t as tight. Maybe I would’ve given it up soon, but I wish that I could’ve made that decision, not have it taken away from me like my stupid hair. Or where I am going to go to school after I’m discharged.

“I can’t believe you’d make me leave school and move to Switzerland.” I glare at my mother and then look pleadingly at my dad. He’s a softie, always trying to make Mom and me happy. Living with the two of us has taken a lot out of him, he likes to say.  I love my mom, but we grate on each other’s nerves. Dad says it’s because we’re too much alike. I don’t think we’re anything alike. For instance, I would not make my daughter leave her only friends and take her to another country to get better.

No wonder they kicked Nate out. He would not be in favor of me moving away. Nick is my best friend, and Nate, well, I couldn’t leave him either. He is going away to college soon, and I want to enjoy him being around while I can—even if he is a jerk to me most of the time. I’ll miss Aunt Grace and Uncle Noah too.

“The transition would be easier for you. We’ll hire a tutor to go with us so you won’t get behind, and when we can, we’ll travel around Europe. It will be a big adventure for us.”  Mom is using her
Let me explain to you why Freedom Funds is the best hedge fund in the world
voice. Irritating much?

“You can stop talking to me like I’m some prospective client. I’m not leaving North Prep. Last year sucked because I was a freshman, but I’m a sophomore now. I have status!”

“Don’t say suck,” Mom says automatically, without any real force behind it. She is too busying staring at Dad.  They’ve developed this technique where they can communicate with each other just by looking. No words.  I’ve seen Aunt Grace and Uncle Noah do it too. Sometimes the looks they exchange make me feel uncomfortable, like I’m seeing something private I shouldn’t be looking at. But it’s like the sun, and I can’t look away. I want to have that kind of connection. I’ve decided that’s the sign you’ve found your one true love.

It’s never worked with Nate. I tried it once when he started seeing Yolanda from school. Yolanda was a senior last year. Older girls have always had a thing for Nate. I don’t get it. Why don’t they stick with the guys in their own grade and leave Nate alone? 

Yolanda was always touching him. I’d see her run her hands down the side of his arm or over his back or sometimes even around the waistband of his jeans. I thought it was disgusting how she pawed at him, and I glared at him one day trying to tell him silently how gross it was, but he just stared at Yolanda with a stupid grin on his face. So even if I thought Nate was my one true love, he doesn’t return my feelings. He’s too busy sleeping with all the seniors.  Like Yolanda.

When Yolanda left for college, I was thrilled but her place was quickly taken by another senior girl. Plus there’s this girl who lives downstairs from us who’s in college, and she’s always looking at him like he’s a side of beef and she hasn’t eaten in a year. I haven’t seen Nate give her the stupid grin, so it seems safe to assume that they aren’t doing it. 
Yet.
I asked Nick once if he thought his brother was hooking up with the girl downstairs, and Nick gave me this weird look and told me that he wasn’t going to talk about stuff like that with me.

Dad clears his throat, and I do a mental fist pump. That Dad is talking and not Mom means I won this round. “We’ll take it a day at a time. If North Prep gets too much for you, the Switzerland idea is still available.”

Mom leans over and gives me a kiss on my forehead. Her lips are trembling like she is trying not to cry, and I just don’t understand what she is so upset about. How could North Prep be too much for me? All my friends go to North Prep. Nothing bad could happen to me there.

5
Nathan


O
h
, Nate! What’re you doing here?” Aunt AnnMarie comes around Charlotte’s empty hospital bed. AnnMarie isn’t really my aunt. Charlotte isn’t my sister. Our families have been one forever, though. I hold out my books and give her a confused look. I’ve been coming every night after football practice for the past week. What does she think I’m doing here?

“I’m here to study,” I say. “And hang out. Where is everyone?” I look around but don’t see Nick or Charlotte. Aunt AnnMarie places a hand on my elbow and starts moving out of the room, but I pull back. “Where’s everyone?” I repeat.

She doesn’t give me a direct answer. Instead, she tightens the grip on my arm. For some reason she wants me to leave. I’m several inches taller than her and probably a hundred pounds heavier. My height and weight make it impossible for most people to move me when I’m refusing to follow them. Aunt AnnMarie is no different. She turns to me and places her hands on her hips.

“You were so much easier to manage when you were a child, Nate.”

“But not as cute, right?” I wink at her because even though she looks a little exasperated with me now, I know she loves me.

“No, you were pretty darn cute as a baby.” She sighs and then shoots a glance at the bathroom door that I just now notice is shut. A buzzing sound is coming from inside and then I hear voices. I can’t make out the words, but because I’ve grown up listening to these voices I know it’s Nick and Charlotte. I start for the door. There’s no way that they need privacy.

Aunt AM places her hand on my arm again and this time the tone in her voice, warning and wary, stops me. “Nate.”

“What’s up?” I don’t understand. I hear giggles which are from Charlotte and then a lower chuckle from Nick. My muscles tense up as they do before I’m about to kick the heavy bag in the gym. I’m short of breath and can feel anger pooling in my stomach.

Nick should not be in the bathroom with Charlotte. They should not be together, laughing behind closed doors. What is with the buzzing noise?  The irritating hum shuts off, and I hear my name being repeated in low tones.

“Nate, Nathan, Nathan Jackson.” Aunt AnnMarie finally breaks through, and I look down at her, wondering why she’s repeating my name so many times.

“Yeah?” She still doesn’t have my full attention because I have to know what’s going on in there. There’s a silence in the room and then I hear crying. It’s Charlotte. Shaking off Aunt AnnMarie’s hand, I take three strides across the room and have my hand on the bathroom door. I’m so close now that I can finally hear Nick comforting Charlotte.

“It’s fine, Charlotte. You look fine,” Nick says. Charlotte replies, but I don’t understand her. Neither does Nick. “What?” he asks.

“It’s not fine,” Charlotte says more clearly. “Look at me. I look like a penis head.”

Nick bursts out laughing. “Have you even seen a penis?”

Aunt AnnMarie was tugging at my arm but stops at Nick’s question. I guess we both want to hear the answer to this.

“Um duh, pictures. Remember when Francine forwarded the picture of her brother looking at himself in the mirror?” Silence reigns while we all contemplate this for a second.

“Yeah, that was unfortunate,” Nick snickers. “But you look nothing like Francine’s brother’s penis.”

“Only because he had hair around his dick and I don’t,” Charlotte says. Aunt AnnMarie releases a tiny moan of dismay. I don’t know exactly how I feel that Charlotte has seen some guy’s penis, but it isn’t pleasant.

Nick makes a gagging sound. “Can we never talk about Francine’s brother’s penis again? I’m going to need some brain bleach.”

“I can’t be seen like this,” Charlotte says unhappily. “I look hideous. I’m so glad we did this before Nate came.”

My back bristles. I don’t get why I was shut out of this. Charlotte had talked about shaving off her hair, but I thought it was just that, talk. I’d have done it with her. I wanted to do it. I’m her rock, not Nick.

“Yeah, well, you know I’m standing behind you when he comes because he’s going to be pissed off you did this without talking to him first.”

“He’s not the boss of me,” declares Charlotte. “I’ve already got two parents. I don’t need a third one.”

Is that what she thinks? That I’m trying to be her parent? Disheartened, I allow her actual parent to lead me out into the hallway.

“Nate, honey,” she says, reaching up to brush my hair out of my face. Hair I shouldn’t have. Hair I should’ve shaved off with Charlotte so she could see we’d all be penis heads together if that is really what she looks like. “Charlotte is at a delicate stage. She’s fifteen. She’s starting to notice guys and have guys notice her.” This statement makes me ball my hands into fists, which Aunt AnnMarie notices because she hurries on, “And not that she likes anyone, but she’s very conscious of how she looks. Her emotions are all over the place because of the medications and the surgeries and just all the unknowns of the future.”

Unknowns? “What’re you saying?” I ask sharply. “She’s going to be okay, right?” I thought after they took the tumor out of her head, it was all good. “The radiation is just precautionary, right?”

Her smile is a little watery. “We hope so, Nathan. We hope so.” She pulls me in for a hug. “Be patient with her, will you?”

I nod. I can be patient. I can. She releases me. A nurse catches her attention and Aunt AnnMarie follows her to the nurses’ station, and I take the opportunity to head back to Charlotte’s room.  The bathroom door is still closed. I decide to employ some of that patience and drop into the armchair next to the empty hospital bed. My forbearance is rewarded when a second later the bathroom door flies open and out walks Nick and Charlotte, looking like two freshly shorn lambs. I cast Nick a dark look and he slides behind Charlotte, all six-foot-two of him.

“See, told ya he’d be pissed.”

“I’m not pissed.” Rising up, I position Charlotte directly in front of me and pretend to examine her carefully. I don’t really care what Charlotte looks like without hair. She could be bald for the rest of her life and she’d still be the prettiest girl around, but I figure out pretty quick that she’s not going to believe that. I draw a finger down the middle of her face, from the top of her forehead to the tip of her chin. Then I bisect that imaginary vertical line with a horizontal one. I trace another line from her eyes to the sides of her mouth.

“What’d you learn in biology about symmetry, Charlotte?” I ask her. My voice is a little husky, and her eyes widen. She’s trembling a bit under my hand. Something is building again inside of me, but it’s not anger. It’s an emotion of another kind—one that is stronger, more compelling, and so wrong. I push it down, but this time I can’t replace it with anger like I usually do because I don’t want to hurt Charlotte anymore. I know the past year I’ve done nothing but harp on her. My surly attitude isn’t something I completely understand. One day she’s my little Charlotte, and the next day she’s wearing a tiny white bikini and waving her ass in the air. She makes me feel things I shouldn’t feel toward her, and I’ve reacted badly. I push that all aside. This isn’t about me.

“That nature loves symmetry.”

“Right.” She’s caught on quickly. “Your face is pretty damn symmetrical. You’re the type who’s gonna look good with long hair, short hair, and no hair.”

Her lips are shaking a bit, and she presses them tight to hold back her tears but a couple slip out of her eyes anyway. I swipe them away with my thumbs, but I see comprehension behind the surface sheen of tears. As a wide, beautiful smile spreads across her face, all my good brotherly intentions flee. The
thing
I’ve spent the last year or so trying to ignore springs up between us so tangible that she senses it.

Her mouth opens in wonder, and my whole body reacts as if she’s issued an invitation—one that I can’t turn away from. I forget where we are, who’s in the room with us and with deliberate intent lower my head toward hers.

Until Nick slaps me on the back. “Smooth, big brother. Very nice.”

Nick’s words make my actions look like a joke, and the glow in Charlotte’s eyes turns from appreciation to bleakness in an instant. I reach over and cuff Nick harder than he expected.

“Ow, goddammit, that hurt.” Nick rubs the back of his head, but it’s too late. No amount of head slaps is going to bring confidence back into Charlotte’s eyes tonight.

I
wait
until Nick is done with the last rep of his leg extensions before confronting him.

“What was that all about with Charlotte today?”

Nick shoots me a look but says nothing. Ignoring me, he climbs off the machine and wipes it down before heading for the free weights. I follow. “If you’ve got something up your ass, just spit it out instead of stewing about it.”

“What do you care?” He picks up a twenty-five-pound barbell and starts doing biceps curls. When I pick up the thirty-pound weights, Nick just rolls his eyes.

“Seriously? You’re giving me crap over the fact I can lift more than you?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles.

I set the barbells onto the rack and pull Nick on the shoulder so he will stop and talk to me. “Nick, what’s wrong?”

For a moment, I think he might shrug me off. Then he releases a huge sigh and places his weights next to mine. Leaning down, he picks up his discarded towel and walks over to the water cooler. I trail behind, waiting impatiently for him to spill it.

Either intentionally or because he isn’t sure what he wants to say, Nick makes me wait until he’s drained two glasses of water. When he starts peeling a banana, I lunge for him. He starts laughing, the little fucker, and dances away. “I wondered how long you’d wait.”

“Fuck you.” I laugh. Nick and I can never stay mad at each other for long.

“Uh-oh, you owe me five or I tell Mom.” Mom hates hearing us cuss and makes us put five dollars in a jar that we then donate to the Widows and Orphans Charity. Dad fills it up about once a month.

“Yeah? And how are you going to explain all the porn Tumblrs you’ve been looking up on your computer? I screenshotted your history, FYI.” I haven’t, but Nick doesn’t know that.  His quick temper flares again, and I think he might try to force feed me the banana. “Just kidding.” I back away, holding up my hands in surrender.

Nick’s face grows serious. “You know they are thinking of shipping Charlotte to Switzerland, right?”

That
 stops me in my tracks.  I am glad I am near a weight bench because the thought of Charlotte being moved out of the country leaves me more winded than my hour-long workout. “When did you hear that?”

“Charlotte told me yesterday.”

“And you’re just telling me now?” I yell at Nick.

“Volume, please.” Nick jiggles his ear.

“Sorry,” I reply curtly, but I’m not sorry at all. This is vital information. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?” What are her parents thinking? Charlotte needs to be with me—I mean, us.  She needs to be here, where her family and friends are, not in some strange country with people who don’t know her.

“Where’d you go the night Charlotte had her tumor out?” Nick asks in an abrupt change of subject.

Caught off guard, I stammer, “Uh, here. The gym.”

“Really? Cuz when we got the call that Charlotte was out of surgery, I came down here to the gym and then down to the common one on the sixth floor. You weren’t in either one.” Nick doesn’t look at me, but I know what I’d see in his eyes.

Disappointment.

Suddenly I feel angry at Dad for ratting me out. Surging to my feet, I start for the door. Nick stops me. “I saw Madeline yesterday in the lobby. She asked about you. Where you’ve been. How come she hasn’t seen you. I told her you were at the hospital with Charlotte. She asked me if that was where you’d taken off to in such a rush the other night.”

“Goddammit.” I lean my head against the glass door of the gym. “What’d you say to her?”

“I told her it wasn’t any of her fucking business where you went and what you did.”

We’re going to fund some kid’s entire college education at the rate we’re spitting out profanities.

“Did you really?” Dad has always taught us to be respectful to women, and I just can’t see Nick saying that. Even to Madeline.

Nick looks down at his feet and shakes his head. “No, but I wanted to. I just said that Charlotte was our number one priority now.”

“Did you say anything to Charlotte?” That’s the most important question. I hold my breath as he answers.

“No.”

The sheer relief at his response makes me weak. “Thanks.”

It’s inadequate but heartfelt. I push away from the door and gesture for Nick to follow me to the condo. He doesn’t get up, and worry is all over his face.

“I think AnnMarie knows, though, because after Charlotte told me I hung around outside the room when Mom came. They were talking about this new clinic in Switzerland, and AnnMarie said it’d be good to get Charlotte away from us for a while.”

“What’d Mom say?”

“I couldn’t hear. They moved away from the door.”

“Fuck,” I curse, and this time Nick doesn’t threaten to tell Mom. “So you think Aunt AnnMarie knows about Madeline and wants to move Charlotte away because of that?”

Nick spreads his hands. “Why else?”

I can think of a thousand reasons but instead of enumerating them, I run upstairs to Dad’s library and burst in. He’s on the phone and unhappy at the unannounced interruption. He gestures for me to sit down but then notices I’m in my workout clothes. Muting the phone, he barks at me, “Don’t sit on my leather chairs until you’ve showered.”

I stand because I’m not leaving to shower or eat or shit or anything until I find out what’s going on.

Dad doesn’t hurry through the phone call. Instead, he listens as the other person seems to talk without breaks, all the while eying me speculatively. I take the time, as he intends, to gather myself until I’m no longer ready burst out with some inappropriate profanity-laced diatribe. I firm my lips and give him a nod that I’m ready. He nods back and quickly wraps up the call.

“Summarize the details and email them to me by tomorrow morning. I’ll give you an answer in forty-eight hours.” He doesn’t wait for a response and hangs up.  Leaning back in his chair, he folds his arms behind his head. “I didn’t say a word to your momma about your indiscretion with that girl downstairs, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

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