and cryogenic surgery. Again, we're talking about palliation rather than a cure-"
"Damn it!" Cliff's voice was explosive. "You're
talking about a little girl! How did this get to-to Stage Three-without anybody noticing? This kid was dancing all night two days ago."
"Mr. Hilgard, I'm sorry," Dr. Loftus said so softly that Poppy could barely pick up the words. "This kind of cancer is called a silent disease, because there are very few symptoms until it's very far advanced. That's why the survival rate is so low. And I have to tell you that Poppy is only the second teenager I've seen with this kind of tumor. Dr. Franklin made an extremely acute diagnosis when he decided to send her in for testing."
"I should have known," Poppy's mother said in a thick voice. "I should have made her come in sooner. I should have-I should have-"
There was a banging sound. Poppy looked around the door, forgetting to be inconspicuous. Her mother was hitting the Formica table over and over. Cliff was trying to stop her.
Poppy reeled back.
Oh, God, I've got to get out of here. I can't see this. I can't look at this.
She turned and walked back down the hall. Her legs moved. Just like always. Amazing that they still worked.
And everything around her was just like always. The nursing station was still decorated for the Fourth of July. Her suitcase was still on the padded window seat in her room. The hardwood floor was still solid underneath her.
Everything was the same-but how could it be?
How could the walls be still standing? How could the TV be blaring in the next room?
I'm going to die, Poppy thought.
Strangely enough, she didn't feel frightened. What she felt was vastly surprised. And the surprise kept coming, over and over, with every thought being in terrupted by those four words.
It's my fault because (I'm going to die) I didn't go to the doctor's sooner.
Cliff said "damn" for me(I'm going to die). I didn't know he liked me enough to swear.
Her mind was racing wildly.
Something in me, she thought. I'm going to die because of something that's inside me, like that alien in the movie. It's in me right now. Right now.
She put both hands to her stomach, then pulled up her T-shirt to stare at her abdomen. The skin was smooth, unblemished. She didn't feel any pain.
But it's in there and I'm going to die because of it. Die soon. I wonder how soon? I didn't hear them talk about that.
I need James.
Poppy reached for the phone with a feeling that her hand was detached from her body. She dialed, thinking Please be there.
But this time it didn't work. The phone rang and rang. When the answering machine came on, Poppy said, "Call me at the hospital." Then she hung up and stared at the plastic pitcher of ice water by her bedside.
He'll get in later, she thought. And then he'll call me. I just have to hang on until then.
Poppy wasn't sure why she thought this, but sud denly it was her goal. To hang on until she could talk to James. She didn't need to think about anything until then; she just had to survive. Once she talked to James, she could figure out what she was supposed to be feeling, what she was supposed to do now.
There was a light knock at the door. Startled, Poppy looked up to see her mother and Cliff. For a moment all she could focus on was their faces, which gave her the strange illusion that the faces were floating in midair.
Her mother had red and swollen eyes. Cliff was pale, like a piece of crumpled white paper, and his jaw looked stubbly and dark in contrast.
Oh, my God, are they going to tell me? They can't; they can't make me listen to it.
Poppy had the wild impulse to run. She was on the verge of panic.
But her mother said, "Sweetie, some of your friends are here to see you. Phil called them this af ternoon to let them know you were in the hospital, and they just arrived."
James, Poppy thought, something springing free in her chest. But James wasn't part of the group that came crowding through the doorway. It was
"Damn it!" Cliff's voice was explosive. "You're
talking about a little girl! How did this get to-to Stage Three-without anybody noticing? This kid was dancing all night two days ago."
"Mr. Hilgard, I'm sorry," Dr. Loftus said so softly that Poppy could barely pick up the words. "This kind of cancer is called a silent disease, because there are very few symptoms until it's very far advanced. That's why the survival rate is so low. And I have to tell you that Poppy is only the second teenager I've seen with this kind of tumor. Dr. Franklin made an extremely acute diagnosis when he decided to send her in for testing."
"I should have known," Poppy's mother said in a thick voice. "I should have made her come in sooner. I should have-I should have-"
There was a banging sound. Poppy looked around the door, forgetting to be inconspicuous. Her mother was hitting the Formica table over and over. Cliff was trying to stop her.
Poppy reeled back.
Oh, God, I've got to get out of here. I can't see this. I can't look at this.
She turned and walked back down the hall. Her legs moved. Just like always. Amazing that they still worked.
And everything around her was just like always. The nursing station was still decorated for the Fourth of July. Her suitcase was still on the padded window seat in her room. The hardwood floor was still solid underneath her.
Everything was the same-but how could it be?
How could the walls be still standing? How could the TV be blaring in the next room?
I'm going to die, Poppy thought.
Strangely enough, she didn't feel frightened. What she felt was vastly surprised. And the surprise kept coming, over and over, with every thought being in terrupted by those four words.
It's my fault because (I'm going to die) I didn't go to the doctor's sooner.
Cliff said "damn" for me(I'm going to die). I didn't know he liked me enough to swear.
Her mind was racing wildly.
Something in me, she thought. I'm going to die because of something that's inside me, like that alien in the movie. It's in me right now. Right now.
She put both hands to her stomach, then pulled up her T-shirt to stare at her abdomen. The skin was smooth, unblemished. She didn't feel any pain.
But it's in there and I'm going to die because of it. Die soon. I wonder how soon? I didn't hear them talk about that.
I need James.
Poppy reached for the phone with a feeling that her hand was detached from her body. She dialed, thinking Please be there.
But this time it didn't work. The phone rang and rang. When the answering machine came on, Poppy said, "Call me at the hospital." Then she hung up and stared at the plastic pitcher of ice water by her bedside.
He'll get in later, she thought. And then he'll call me. I just have to hang on until then.
Poppy wasn't sure why she thought this, but sud denly it was her goal. To hang on until she could talk to James. She didn't need to think about anything until then; she just had to survive. Once she talked to James, she could figure out what she was supposed to be feeling, what she was supposed to do now.
There was a light knock at the door. Startled, Poppy looked up to see her mother and Cliff. For a moment all she could focus on was their faces, which gave her the strange illusion that the faces were floating in midair.
Her mother had red and swollen eyes. Cliff was pale, like a piece of crumpled white paper, and his jaw looked stubbly and dark in contrast.
Oh, my God, are they going to tell me? They can't; they can't make me listen to it.
Poppy had the wild impulse to run. She was on the verge of panic.
But her mother said, "Sweetie, some of your friends are here to see you. Phil called them this af ternoon to let them know you were in the hospital, and they just arrived."
James, Poppy thought, something springing free in her chest. But James wasn't part of the group that came crowding through the doorway. It was
Similar Books
Snow Storm
Robert Parker
Taken Love
KC Royale
The Ivy Lessons
J Lerman
Line of Fire
Simone Anderson
A Low Down Dirty Shane
Sierra Dean
Twist of Fate
Kelly Mooney
Fay Weldon - Novel 23
Rhode Island Blues (v1.1)
A Most Scandalous Proposal
Ashlyn Macnamara
Alcestis
Katharine Beutner
