“We’ve got an infusion center here that you can come to,” the nurse says. “I’ll go ahead and schedule the first appointment for you. Does Tuesday, November twenty-first, work?”
“I think so,” I say, knowing there’s nothing else on my calendar right now.
“Yes,” Mom answers for me.
“Lots of patients look forward to the appointments since they get a burst of energy for a while afterward. In fact, at the end of each month, you’ll probably be looking forward to the next infusion.”
“Interesting. Yeah, I’m hoping it can help with some of this fatigue.”
We’re quiet in the car after the visit, my mom knowing better by now than to voice any doubts about the treatment I’ve chosen. There are potential risks to the infusions, but not the guaranteed gamble I would be taking by not doing any treatment at all. For me, this is the choice I need to make. So hopefully the odds are in my favor when it comes to avoiding side effects.
Mom drops me off at school to get the next semester arranged with Ms. Lily. “I can wait and drive you home after,” she offers.
“That’s okay. I think I’m good to get a ride myself.”
My mom looks unsure. She might not actually leave.
It’s unsettling—being back at Amber while the semester is beginning to wind down. What test would I have been studying for? What has everyone been up to? Things move a mile a minute at high school, so much so that missing a single class could set someone back, and I’ve missed several weeks. Which is exactly why there was no point in me returning until January. But right now, in this moment, part of me feels the urge to turn back and never return at all.
That’s just fear. I’ll get past it.
I climb out of the car with my cane and doubt going into the building with it for a moment, but I’ve already walked across theparking lot with it. There’s no turning back now. I’m not sure how my legs will hold up for such a long stretch.
Yet, stepping into the school, I regret bringing my cane here. Have any of my classmates ever seen someone our age using a walking stick before? Crutches, for sure. But a cane? I don’t think so.
I want to stash it in my locker. But the bell rings, and I’m having a difficult time keeping up with everyone rushing through the halls. I hold the cane up by my side and keep walking, steadying myself against the wall whenever there’s an odd break between lockers. Still, I basically just bump into a lot of people who give me salty looks.
Including Liam.
I brace myself for a taunt that never comes. Instead, there’s a flash of disgust on his face. Maybe even pity. Then, as he shuts his locker door, he calls out to no one in particular, “Look who’s back from rehab.”
Speeding down the hall to get away from the stares, I’m relieved the vertigo seems to have truly subsided now. The world feels steadier by the day, but still, I don’t want to risk it, especially not here.
By the time I get to the guidance counselor’s office, I’m taxed and very much relying on the cane to help keep my balance. Ms. Lily’s door is open, and she looks up at me expectantly. “Jackson, welcome. Please take a seat.”
I sit on the chair, grateful to be off my feet. My muscles are dancing in my thighs and glutes.Twitch, twitch, twitch.
“Glad to see you seem to be doing okay,” Ms. Lily says, clicking something on her computer—probably my file. “Are you eager to get back to school next semester?”
“Sure, yeah. It’s strange to take this much time off.” I tap my foot, trying to distract myself from the symptoms.
Ms. Lily slides a printout across the desk to me. “I’ve worked out your schedule, and because you took extra classes, you’ve already completed certain minimum credits that colleges need, so you won’t need to retake some courses. After this spring, you’ll just need to take three courses next summer to be fully caught up on our requirements.”
“And that will make up for everything?”
“Correct. And don’t worry; you’ll still be able to walk with your class at graduation.” She must question her word choice as her eyes drift to the cane that I’ve propped up against the chair. “We mail out diplomas months later anyway, once all the coursework is officially graded, so you’ll just get that once all your credits are completed.”
“That makes sense.”
“Now for the bad news.” She winces as she looks down at the giant calendar spread out on her desk. “Unfortunately, it is November third already, and it says here that, for the schools you’re targeting, the early decision deadline was the first.”
College.
What university to go to consumed my thoughts the last two years, but it has almost completely been wiped from my mind. So I missed the first deadline. And regular decision is due in the new year, which is right around the corner. In a single heartbeat, I’ve gone from being eager to have more back on my plate to absolutelydrowning.
“Um, I haven’t…well, I haven’t asked for recommendation of letters,” I say, clearing my throat and correcting myself. “Letters of rec. Or looked to see what any of the essays would be. Because, you know, I think if…” I trail off, having not completed the thought but looking at Ms. Lily expectantly for help.
With pity in her eyes, she suggests, “Maybe you could take a gap year. Use the time to get better and refreshed—to start strong with new plans.”
