Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
One of her friends gasps, clearly putting it together faster than Tarni can, but Tarni just looks at me with a blank expression. “What . . . What are you saying?”
“Zoey is fucking dying, Tarni. That girl who stood by you for the past ten years, who had your back even when you didn’t deserve it, she’s fucking dying. You want to know why she hasn’t been at school for months at a time?” I continue. “She’s gone through two intense rounds of chemotherapy that have cost her way more than her hair, and for the record, the treatment didn’t fucking work. So instead of getting better, the cancer is killing her from the inside out. But you, you worthless piece of shit, made her the laughingstock of East View High when all she wanted was to have one normal fucking day for her birthday—probably the last birthday she’ll ever have, and you fucking stole it from her.”
Tarni gapes at me, her eyes wide and quickly filling with tears as the other two girls silently cry. “Her . . . Her leukemia is back?” Tarni asks.
“Congratulations,” I say with a disgusted grunt, pushing away from her. “You must be so fucking proud of yourself.”
Tarni sucks in a gasp, her wide eyes looking at her friends in horror. “What . . . What have we done?”
“You,” I spit, reveling in the grief filling her eyes. “Don’t even try to force your friends to carry that burden. You’re the one who turned your back on her. You’re the piece of shit who humiliated her. And you’re the one who broke her fucking heart. You let her down, and when she needed you the most, you were dancing on her waiting grave.”
And with that, I turn my back and storm out of there, desperate to get home to my girl, and as I slam the broken front door, the only sound I hear is guilt-ridden sobs behind me.
52
Zoey
My birthday sucked. There’s no other way to put it.
After getting home from the hospital, Noah and Hope came over, and despite the fact that I was falling asleep on the couch, they stayed all night, doing what they could to help salvage the rest of my day, and I can’t lie, it definitely helped, but the sting from the whole bald debacle at school refused to subside.
We did the cake thing while Mom and Dad forced smiles across their faces despite the fear in their eyes. Then afterward, once Hope had gone home, Noah took me up to bed. He gave me an infinity charm to hang on my necklace, identical to the matching tattoos we share, and then I unapologetically forced him to recite exactly what he’d said to Tarni three times, reveling in the image of him busting down her front door.
Then, even though I was exhausted, Noah made the sweetest love to me. After he’d somehow turned such a shitty day into a perfect night, I couldn’t sleep, and so he sat out on the roof with me, holding me in his arms as we watched the stars sparkle against the dark Arizona sky.
When I couldn’t fight the exhaustion a second longer, Noah took me to bed and held me until I woke up this morning, ready to put it all behind me. At least, I thought I was until Mom was called in for a meeting with Principal Daniels. She was told that I wouldn’t be able to return to school until I have fully been cleared by my doctor—for my own safety.
It’s a fair call, and after yesterday, I don’t think I’d be foolish enough to return, but it still sucks. It’s just another thing that this disease has taken away from me.
Noah was called in to meet with his professor after handing in a blank exam yesterday, and since then, I’ve been sitting here with my laptop, but the words aren’t coming. So, instead of writing, I make my way up to my room to get dressed.
Not bothering with a wig, I tie a bandana around my head, making a knot in the back before finding a pair of shoes and heading downstairs. Mom would be pissed if she knew I was going out today. After everything that went down yesterday, everyone would be, but I don’t see how it matters.
I’m starting to realize that the little bit of hope I had for radiation is a distraction meant to keep me in good spirits while I slowly fade away. And if this really is the end, if my time on earth with Noah and my family truly is limited, then I don’t want to spend it holed up, suffering alone in my room.
Making my way downstairs, I stop by the kitchen and grab something small to eat, and just as I go to find my keys, I hear a soft knock at the door. My brows furrow, and I spare a glance at the clock. We’re not expecting anyone today. I don’t have any scheduled check-ups with the home nurses, and Noah and Hope have learned that if they bother to knock, they’ll more than likely be left standing out on the porch. They quickly figured out the importance of walking right in.