Maybe One Day. Melissa Kantor

pulled up into the driveway. I followed my mom up the stairs to the front porch and waited while she fished for her keys. She opened the door and flipped on the light. From the kitchen came a whimper.

      “Oh my God,” my mom whispered. “We forgot all about Flavia.”

      She raced into the kitchen, and I followed her. Flavia was lying on the floor, his paw covering his face as if he were ashamed. A few feet away was a small puddle of pee.

      It was my job to give Flavia his afternoon walk. I pictured him waiting for me to get home from school, imagined how confused he must have been when I raced into the house and then raced out again, taking my mom with me instead of him.

      I went over and dropped to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Flavia,” I said, putting my arms around him. “I’m so sorry.” For a second he seemed to resist my hug, and then he gave a little sigh and rested his head on my lap as if to say, I understand. I forgive you.

      “I just forgot. Livvie’s sick, and I just forgot.” Flavia blinked at me. The last time I’d walked him, I’d gone over to Olivia’s house after. She hadn’t been sick then. Except she had been. I pictured her bone marrow, full of terrifying child soldiers, the kind that were sometimes featured on the front page of the New York Times, with their dead eyes and their automatic weapons. They’d been hiding out inside her, their numbers growing for weeks. Months. Maybe years? We were driving in and out of Manhattan and dancing and planning our glamorous futures, and all that time, an enemy deep in Olivia’s DNA was plotting and waiting and getting ready to strike.

      “She’s okay, Flavia,” I said. “She’s going to be okay. Really. She is. You don’t need to worry, Flavia. She’s going to be fine.” And then I wrapped my arms around his body and the tight feeling inside me burst and I cried and cried into his soft, warm fur.

      

7

      I would have said that after Livvie’s diagnosis nothing could shock me, but the next morning, when I pushed open the door to Wamasset High School minutes before the first bell, still bleary-eyed from my night of tossing and turning, it turned out there was something for which I was completely unprepared.

      No sooner had I entered the lobby than there was an ear-splitting scream, followed by the cry, “Oh my God, Zoe!”

      It was as if I’d tripped some personalized burglar alarm. I stood, frozen, waiting to see where the voice had come from.

      The lobby was wall-to-wall people, but the crowds parted as Stacy, Emma, and the Bailor twins flew toward me, hurled their bodies at mine, threw their arms around my shoulders, and—and here I am not exaggerating—began to sob.

      “Zoe, it’s so awful!” Stacy dug her chin into my shoulder. Her ponytail slapped my face.

      “It’s just so awful!” Emma echoed. She was clutching my arm and patting the side of my head.

      Within seconds, the rest of the cheer squad had gathered around us, all of them damp-eyed, a few with tears running down their faces.

      Stacy released me from the hug, then grabbed my hand. “Zoe, we just love you so much.”

      The cheer squad loved me?

      “It’s true,” Emma asserted, though I hadn’t spoken my doubts out loud. She dropped her head onto my shoulder. “Have you seen Jake this morning?”

      “Listen,” Stacy continued, “last night we were talking about doing a fund-raiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. And I just know that I speak for everyone at Wamasset when I say that we will all participate as we work to find a cure for this deadly disease.”

      “Are you … planning a speech or something?” I asked.

      She nodded. “To Principal Handleman. I’m going to propose we do a car wash and blood drive. Do you think Olivia would like that?”

      They stared at me, waiting for an answer.

       Do not be a total bitch. Do not be a total bitch.

      “Um, yeah, that’s really nice of you guys. I’m sure something like that would mean a lot to her,” I said. My phone buzzed, and I checked the screen. OLIVIA.

      “I have to go,” I said. I would have been relieved to hear from her anyway, but given my situation, her phone call was doubly welcome.

      “Oh my God,” wailed Hailey. “Is that Olivia?”

      “Yeah,” I admitted, “it is, actually.” I am not exaggerating when I say a reverent hush fell over the girls surrounding me, as if I had just told a group of nuns that Jesus Christ himself was on the line.

      “Hi,” I said into the phone, ducking my head slightly so I wasn’t looking into all those eager faces. “Um, I’m standing here with the cheerleaders.”

      There was a pause. Then Livvie said, “Seriously? But you hate those guys.”

      I glanced up. Everyone was still staring at me. “Olivia says hi.”

      “Hi, Olivia!” they shouted. “Tell her we love her!” a couple of voices added.

      “They say they love you,” I repeated.

      “Oh,” said Olivia. “Thanks.”

      “She says thanks,” I said. Then I made a gesture to indicate I was having trouble hearing what was being said at the other end of the phone and began sliding toward my locker.

      “Bye, Livvie!” cried Stacy. She began to wave, and the other cheerleaders followed suit, as if I were a cruise ship pulling slowly away from the dock.

      “Zoe, you have to help us plan the car wash!” added Emma. I nodded and nodded and made the same I-need-to-go-somewhere-I-can-hear gesture and then I was blissfully out of the lobby and on my way down the two hundreds corridor.

      “Jesus Christ,” I said. “This is really weird. They want to do a car wash.”

      “I know,” said Olivia. “Stacy sent me a text last night. And this morning I got an email. She signed me up to receive daily inspirational messages. Today’s was all about the goodness within me.”

      “Holy shit! Did you puke immediately?”

      Olivia gave a tired laugh. “Already did that.”

      “Oh, honey.” I leaned against my locker. “Are you okay?”

      “I don’t know. Yeah. I mean, I’m okay.” She had this brave but tired voice that I’d never heard her use before. It made me want to crawl through the phone and curl up next to her on the hospital bed. The warning bell rang.

      “I heard that,” said Olivia. “You’ve gotta go.”

      “I don’t care,” I said. “Whatever. I’ll be late.”

      “Actually, I’m kinda cooked,” she admitted. “I just wanted to say hi.”

      “Right,” I said fast. “Of course. I’m sorry. You get some rest. I’ll call you later.”

      After we hung up, I opened my locker, but I didn’t take anything out or put anything in. My hands were shaking, and I leaned the side of my head against the cool of the metal shelf. On my locker door was the picture she had taken the first day of school. We were tan. Our smiles were wide, and I realized Livvie’s dress was blue and white and so was my shirt, almost as if we were wearing some kind of uniform. You two look like salt and pepper shakers. That’s what my mom used to say when we both had long hair. You’re a couple of salt and pepper shakers.