Chapter 1
The day I survived spring break started out according to plan. My feet dangled over the edge of my best friend Jasper’s bed while she scribbled in her sketchbook. She ripped out a page, crumpled it, and threw it across the room without caring if it made it into the wastebin. Bolter, the black lab she had since freshman year, saw it as a game and raced for the discarded pages. Dogs would be dogs. Jasper would be Jasper. The end of the world would be the end of the world.
I peered over her shoulder at two gowns – one a midnight blue and the other a royal red. I bit back a joke about her choice in red. Given the circumstances, it felt cruel. She wouldn’t see it that way. Much like my mother, she tried not to think about my condition unless I brought it up. I appreciated this. Who wants to walk around as the sick girl?
Jasper nibbled her outer lip as she sketched the length, the layers, and the single slit at the side that trailed to the hip.
“At this rate, I’ll never finish in time,” she muttered to herself. For someone notorious for completing her homework the day before, or the passing period before, she sure took her designs seriously. She would take a missing assignment before missing a deadline for a fashion design contest.
“We still have two months.” I kicked my legs, inviting Bolter to paw at my checkered Converse.
Except for a death glare, she ignored me and continued scribbling. I gulped down a giggle and tried to focus on Twenty-One Pilots looping in the background. If her parents were home, they would shout for us to turn it down. In response, Jasper would stop my hand before it reached the speaker. Fortunately, it was early enough in the day that we had the house to ourselves.
Both of our phones buzzed, but only I looked at the notification.Another coronavirus update. I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone to the other side of the bed.
The news of the pandemic would’ve alarmed me if I weren’t already dying. Despite my mother’s constant assurance that I will not die, that we will find a cure(or, at least an answer), the near-constant knot in my stomach and inky black bile that dripped from the corner of my mouth told a different story. A story that pushed other things, like a global pandemic, towards the bottom of my list of things to worry about.
All I wanted was one more day of normalcy. One more day to gawk at her one-of-a-kind prom outfits and watch her fantasize about who might take her to prom. One more day of her attempts to get me an eligible best friend-approved prom date. She said I deserved one. I insisted I didn’t care, but she never believed this.
I fumbled with the bronze locket around my neck, the locket that never opened. Darlene, a close family friend and my adopted aunt, found it at an antique shop when I was sixteen. She said it belonged with me. Despite mine and my mother’s attempts to pry the locket open, we were unsuccessful. Even Jasper’s dad, with all of his tools, never got it to budge. If it weren’t for the sentimental value, I would have taken his advice to pawn it.
I would never admit it, but when things got tight because my mother lost a job, the thought crossed my mind. Anytime I thought about it, even in hindsight, a pang of guilt twisted in my gut. The thought alone would crush Darlene, who didn’t have a family of her own. She always said the highlight of her life was her quarterly visits to Mother and me.
As Bolter pawed at my leg, I grunted as beads of sweat seeped across my forehead. I hated that time of day. Of course, it was my fault for forgetting my meds earlier. Jasper’s head snapped up as I tucked my head between my knees and prayed for the episode to pass.”My bag…it’s downstairs. Would you mind getting it?”
“When do you see the doctor again?” Though she asked, she already knew the answer. The only thing I got from doctors were mountains of hospital bills too big for a single mother to pay. She left her sketchbook sprawled across the bed and ran downstairs. With the world spinning, it felt like hours before I heard the thundering footsteps of her return. With a wry smile, she gave me my little black backpack and a dark washcloth. Classy.
“Please don’t tell my mother,” I pleaded. “She thinks it’s getting better. With her hours getting longer…”
“Harper,” she started, and I knew where this was going. “That isn’t fair, and you know it.”
“She doesn’t need added stress, especially over something she can’t fix.”
“But,” she began to protest, and I cut her off with the wave of my hand. “You need another opinion. There has to be someone who can figure out what’s going on with you.”
“She doesn’t need added debt, either.” The words came out cracked. Broken. But, she knew I was right.
“Maybe, but you can’t go back to school like this. Not with this illness spreading everywhere. Rumor is some people are more susceptible. You at least deserve to know if you might die?” Her eyes shimmered, and I had to look away before I cracked, too.
I wanted to ask if it would be so bad? A break from the coughing, the pain, sounded heavenly. But that wouldn’t comfort my best friend, so I just smiled. Besides, the truth neither of us wanted to vocalise is that I likely was dying. What other explanation did we have?
“We don’t know that.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “But, if the world is ending, I want to make it count. I want it to end with my best friend by my side.
She sighed, not at all satisfied with this reply, but she didn’t push further.
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With the party only a few hours away, my house was far from ready. This gave me the perfect reason to excuse myself before Jasper could say anything else about my condition. It wasn’t a lie, though. Mother was busy pulling another double at the hospital and couldn’t help get ready for the party. Don’t get me wrong, as much as I appreciated help, a few hours of quiet had its own appeal. I never understood my best friend’s neverending social battery. It must have been nice.
Growing up one street over has its perks. We spent many weekends, and many summers, walking to each other’s houses. At 17, I still enjoyed this freedom. I didn’t have a car – Mother’s single parent income didn’t leave room for it. Having my best friend nearby made up for this. She was always down to drive me around, so long as I didn’t mind stopping at Annie’s Fabrics. As much as I admired her talent, sometimes the thought of roaming the aisles of cloth I knew nothing about made me consider how badly I wanted a ride.
Although it was March, the Houston air was still cool and crisp. A gentle breeze grazed through my now-disheveled curls. I slowed, letting it cool my skin. Another thing I had to fix before the party this evening. I didn’t make it three blocks before my phone vibrated with a text from Jasper with a reminder to text her when I got home. I swear, worrying about me was her full-time job
Shaking my head, I stuffed the phone into my pocket and decided to sit at the neighborhood park for a few minutes. As kids, Jasper and I, along with our friend Sidney, played here often. Back then, the playground was covered in tiny pebbles instead of woodchips and there were swings where a new pavilion sat. I noticed they got rid of the monkey bars – probably after one too many accidents. Guided by the gentle breeze, a group of kids chased each other with squeals and shrills of laughter.
A little boy stood at the top of the jungle gym with his hands on his hips as he looked down on his friends. Whether he was a villain or a king, I couldn’t decide. Either way, I smiled at their joy as they chased each other. Their parents talked amongst themselves on the other side of the playground. Every now and then, one of them pointed to their own child with pride. I sat too far away to make out what they said.
I decided to shoot Jasper a text before she had a chance to worry. I began to type my message as another little boy no older than five crashed into me with a shriek. He steadied himself and wheeled around towards his friends only to lose his balance. Behind him, a little girl ran into him. Before he had a chance to relax, he fell to the ground and scraped his knee along the woodchips.
Oh no. The blood barely glistened over the scrape before my ears started ringing. Gripping the edge of the bench, I swallowed the air in my mouth. As the wound bled on, however minutely, a wave of nausea punched me through the stomach and I doubled over. I tucked my head between my knees and tried to keep my composure.
Not here. I begged to myself, to no one in particular. Panicked, I shoved two more pills into my mouth and realized I had nothing to swallow them with. I swallowed my saliva. A drinking fountain was only a few steps away, but my knees were too weak to carry me. Desperate, I swallowed more saliva.
A sharp cry rang through the park as the boy clutched his knee. The girl beside him yelled for their parents, who ripped their focus from the conversation they had a moment before. My vision narrowed until I could only see the black tips of my converse and the black bile that trailed down my chin, over my shirt, and poured to the concrete. My vision blurred as one mother brought a hand over her mouth and another pulled her daughter to her so she wouldn’t see anymore.
Sadly, I didn’t think the poor children could ever unsee what just happened.
As the bile seeped through my mouth, the self-loathing sank into my mind. Why me?
Heat flooded my cheek as the kids and their parents stared. When the nausea hit, my hearing gave out and drowned out one of the mothers asking if there was someone they could call. Paralyzed, I didn’t move as someone grabbed my phone and looked through it. Whether they were calling my mother or stealing my identity, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
My vision blurred until all I saw was more inky black liquid. My worn black converse. My fresh nose-ring. The one Jasper insisted would only hurt a bit. The fading shadows as parents pulled their children out of the way and left the park.
Seconds bled into minutes as my sense of time slowed. My body crumpled as coughs erupted from deep in my lungs. My body clung to as much oxygen as possible as the air grew thinner. I felt like someone held saran wrap around my mouth. I slumped to the ground. Soon, I could hardly make out the tiny blobs that hovered over me. Somehow, a woman found my phone as she clutched her cardigan. Whether she called my mother or stole my identity, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
The ringing in my ears put the oldest church bell to shame. I barely heard the footsteps of passerbys. My vision blackened so that the mustache of the fire chief became an ugly blot. I choked as he tugged the locket around my neck and tried to remove it. Why he did, I didn’t know. My voice croaked as I tried to ask, but the question came out as a gasp.
Someone swatted at the fire chief’s arm as he tried to pull me onto something – a stretcher? My head lulled to the side as the lady stood between the paramedics and me.
On the edge of consciousness, the scent of garlic, rosemary, and other unfamiliar scents traveled through my nose, my senses. At some point, the trickles of vomit stopped, but my senses stayed dull. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as someone’s breath grazed my ear. It took a moment to register a familiar voice.
“I thought I would find you here.” She kept her voice low and delicate. As though speaking too loud might break me. Closing her palm around the broken locket, she tsked before adding, “I told you to keep this safe. You should be more careful with a gift from a doting aunt.”
She caught me before I collapsed on the ground.
