Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
By Thursday, I’ve grabbed my phone no less than a hundred times, staring at Mr. Harrington’s name on the screen. Not only have I not heard a single word from him, but my parents haven’t called either. In fact, I have Ren call me just to make sure my phone is actually working.
That night, I go to bed fairly early, waking in the wee hours of the morning, drenched in sweat. I’m panting from another nightmare as I stare at the ceiling, mustering up the energy to get up and change into dry clothes.
In this dream I was calling Josh to tell him that I still loved him, but he couldn’t hear me. I was shouting and shouting to no avail. I hung up the phone, thinking it was the connection, but as I started to call him back, my phone all of a sudden fell out of my grasp and down hundreds of stairs. It kept rolling and rolling and I was running after it, calling out his name.
I hate when the alarm wakes me, and I roll over to look at the time, realizing it’s not the alarm, but my phone.
“Mom?” I see the name and answer groggily.
“Did I wake you?” Her voice shakes apologetically.
“No,” I look at the clock. “I’m usually up at 7:30 in the morning,” I joke, but she doesn’t think it’s funny. “Have you guys been getting my calls? I’ve tried both your cells and the house-”
“Luci,” she interrupts, and my heart start beating rapidly for no reason. It’s something in her tone. “I don’t want to hide this from you.”
“Hide what?” I swallow, and my ears start ringing.
“Now, we don’t know much right now, so there’s no need to panic,” she warns and I swallow hard again.
“It’s very small, minuscule even,” she explains.
“What is?” I whisper.
“Your Dad’s cancer.”
Silence.
“Luci, are you there?”
“Yeah,” I croak, my face already forming the most ugly cry I’ve probably ever had.
“Are you crying?”
“No,” I sob.
“Did you want me to not tell you?” I can hear she’s full of regret.
“No,” I heave. “I’d want to know.”
“We have a doctor’s appointment in a few weeks,” she says. “It’s small, and we really don’t know anything yet.”
“Okay,” I whisper, but I’m not sure if I said it in my head or out loud. I mute the phone while I blow my nose.
“Does Gracie know?”
“She was here when the doctor called the other day,” she sighs. “It was only the other night we found out.”
“I’m coming home.”
“No, it’s really not necessary,” she insists.
“No, I am,” I proclaim.
“Well, don’t drive when you’re like this,” she sighs. “Wait until you at least calm down - and call me. We’re going for another test later this morning.”
“Okay,” I look up as the tears spill onto my shirt. “Is Gracie there? Can I talk to her?”
“I think she wants to be left alone.”
I nod, and as soon as we hang up, I wail as snot pours disgustingly down my face.
My Dad!
I want to call and talk to him. Crap, what he must be going through! But I don’t think I can without uncontrollably sobbing, and I don’t want him to hear me like this, so sad, scared, and afraid. I want to be strong for him.
I hit the name I need most, barely making out the H through my waterlogged eyes. I need to hear his voice. He can make it better.
The phone rings and rings, and I look at the time, realizing that school has already started. His voicemail beeps, and before I know it I’m verbalizing my thoughts as I leave him three words before hanging up. I need you.
“Ren!” I shout, but my mouth is so dry that it’s not loud enough. I think she has class now anyway.
I end up calling Luke. I don’t want to be alone right now.
“Hey hun!”
“Hi,” my voice shakes. “Can you come over?”
“Oh,” his cheery mood disappears. “What’s wrong?”
I wish he would just come and not ask.
“My Dad has… I just found out my Dad has can-” I can’t even get the word out. “Please, just come over.”
“Shit,” he sighs. “I can’t. This is my busy day with class. The semester only just started. I can come over tonight though?”
“No,” I weep. “Now, please,” I urge.
“Luci,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. It’ll be okay. Whatever it is. I’ll be over later. I’m sorry.”
I hang up the phone, and my head hits my pillow as wetness soaks the sheets.
My tears won’t stop, and I soon get up and take an allergy pill; three of them, hoping it’ll help me forget. Maybe I’ll wake back up realizing this was one of those bad dreams.
Deep down, I know it’s not, and I can’t stop replaying the word in my mind; each time creating a new gash until my eyes feel so heavy that everything goes black.