Never Blame the Umpire Read Online Free PDF Page B

talk. I see Mama’s eyes meet Dad’s, and I see her give a quick nod of her head.
    I can only stare at her. I feel Ken beside me. I can’t see his face, but I can hear his silence. It’s like he’s stopped breathing. Or maybe it’s me who has stopped breathing. I feel almost like I’m a dream. I wait for someone to say something. Maybe when somebody finally speaks again, I’ll wake up and whatever Dad had said about bad news will be nothing more than the end of a bad dream.
    I’m surprised to hear my own voice: “What bad news?”
    Mama’s body seems to stiffen. “I have cancer.”
    The word pounds me like a tidal wave. I feel myself drowning. I take a deep breath, trying to stay above the water.
    I can’t even force myself to speak. Then I hear Ken’s voice. It seems far away. “Hannah, from my class at school—her dad had cancer last year, andhe’s fine now.”
    Silence seems to grow into an ocean, and I feel myself in the middle of it, surrounded by waves twenty feet high.
    Mama is sitting on the blanket now. She’s leaning against Dad. His arm is around her shoulder. She looks the same as she’s always looked. She doesn’t look sick. How can you have cancer and not look sick?
    “Your father and I agreed that we shouldn’t keep anything from you,” Mama says. “You’re old enough now. You should know everything, so we can face it together.”
    I want to scream for her to stop. I know somehow that anything else she might say will be too terrible to hear. But the scream won’t come out.
    “The cancer is…advanced,” Mama says. “The doctor doesn’t think it will get better.” Her voice is calm and gentle. Her voice doesn’t match the words.
    I feel Mama’s arms around me. I don’t even know whether I moved toward her or if she moved toward me. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m in Mama’s warm embrace.
    “Will you have to have an operation to get rid of the cancer?” Ken asks. His voice seems louder than usual.
    Dad clears his throat. “The doctor talked about all the possible treatments. But your mother’s cancer is…is just too far advanced. There’s nothing…thedoctor said…” His voice cracks and he turns away.
    Mama says, “There’s nothing surgery can do.”
    “What about…chemo-something?” Ken asks. “That will make you better, won’t it? That’s what Hannah’s dad had.” He talks really fast. I’ve never heard him talk so fast.
    “I wish it could,” Mama says. She releases her hold on me. She shakes her head ever so slightly. She reaches out to touch Ken’s hair, but he twists his head away.
    “Chemotherapy and radiation treatments are still an option,” Dad said, “but…” His voice trails off again. He doesn’t seem able to finish a sentence.
    I’m glad he doesn’t finish his thought. I don’t want to hear the words. I don’t want to hear any more about the cancer. Not ever again. If I don’t hear any more, then maybe none of it’s true. Maybe it’s all just been something I dreamed. Maybe this whole afternoon is just something I dreamed.
    Mama’s cheek is pressed against mine. I feel tears, and I know I’m not dreaming the tears. They’re real. What I don’t know is if they’re hers or mine.
    “I know this is sudden,” Mama says, “but we just found out for sure from the doctor yesterday. We’ve never kept secrets from each other. And it wouldn’t be fair to any of us to keep this from you.”
    I finally force myself to speak. “Maybe he’swrong. The doctor.”
    Dad moves to Mama. She releases me, and Dad takes her hand and pulls her toward him. She almost floats into his arms. Ken is still standing away from us, out of everybody’s reach. “It’s not just one doctor,” Dad says. “They’ve run tests and done consultations.”
    Everything seems to be frozen in place: the sun’s reflection sticking to the still lake, a diver in midair off the wooden raft, a small child with one foot raised at the edge of the