Chapter 12
Jeremiah James:
Hey you. Done anything reckless lately?
Cara Samuel:
Idk. Like what?
Jeremiah James:
Skydive, swim with sharks, rob a bank?
Cara Samuel:
Any particular reason why you think I’m a thrill-seeking adrenaline junkie?
Jeremiah James:
You went canoeing with gators and jumped into a frozen lake in the middle of winter…
Cara Samuel:
Yeah, for my bucket list
That reminds me. I finished #7!
Jeremiah James:
Congrats, but I need clarification.
What exactly is a Mrs. Sprinkles?
I’m assuming you didn’t beat up an elderly woman
Cara Samuel:
It’s an ice cream eating challenge at this old-fashioned soda shop.
20 scoops.
30 minutes.
Jeremiah James:
You did an ice cream eating challenge WITHOUT ME??
Cara Samuel:
It was spur of the moment.
And I regret nothing
Jeremiah James:
I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from this betrayal. You robbed me of my moment to shine.
Cara Samuel:
As if you don’t have those on a daily basis.
* * *
By the time June rolled around, I’d fallen into a comfortable routine.
Mornings were typically spent texting with JJ as this was the only convenient time for him since he was seven hours ahead of me.
I didn’t mind though. Waking up to his messages always made me smile.
My afternoons were dedicated to practicing for my driving test, and over the course of the past few weeks, I’d mastered my biggest challenge yet—parallel parking.
Then at night, I’d hang out with Trixy at the Blue Groove.
Today, however, I decided to mix things up.
More than a month had passed since I last visited Willow, and I wanted to see how she was recovering from her chemo treatment as well as fill her in about crashing the Abbott wedding at Wyndgate. After signing in at the visitors’ desk, I made my way to her room only to find it empty.
Strange. Maybe she was hanging out with Donavan or watching a movie in the rec room? I decided to check with her boyfriend first.
“Hey, Cara,” he said in a quiet voice, barely glancing away from the window he was staring out when I stepped inside. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Just swinging by to visit Willow. Any idea where I can find her?”
He turned back to me, and that was when I noticed his eyes. They were red and puffy, like he’d been crying. The dull expression on his face made the back of my neck prickle, but it was his answer that took my breath away. “She’s in surgery right now.”
“What?” I gasped, clutching a hand to my chest. Willow never mentioned an upcoming surgery, which meant something was wrong. “What happened? Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” he choked out. Fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. “I went to see her about an hour ago, and she was just…gone. I know they can’t say anything, but none of the nurses will tell me what’s going on, and Willow never mentioned an upcoming procedure.”
When I got back to the house thirty minutes later, there was a pile of suitcases beside the front door and earsplitting screaming that supposedly counted as music blasting from the kitchen; Stella was home for the summer.
The two of us hadn’t spoken since she called to interrogate me about JJ, but that was okay. She’d kept her promise to me and not told Mom I’d gone to Miami alone, which I found encouraging. Maybe we had both needed space to calm down and sort through our feelings.
With that being said, I wished someone had told me she’d be home today because I never would have gone to the hospital.
As much as I enjoyed spending time with my friends, visits there always left me drained, both mentally and emotionally.
But this, how I felt right now—it was so much worse.
Not only was I anxious about Willow, but I couldn’t get the haunted look on Donavan’s face out of my mind.
Would that be my siblings if my cancer came back?
I momentarily considered sneaking down the hall to my room so I could curl up in bed and watch an episode of Dapper Daddies, but that wouldn’t go over well with Stella, so I gave myself a quick pep talk about remaining calm and being patient before entering the kitchen.
An array of ingredients was spread across the island: chopped almonds, the ripe peach I’d planned on eating later today, feta cheese, half a red onion, and a balsamic vinaigrette.
Stella stood at the sink, bobbing her head to the racket as she rinsed a package of spinach.
I cleared my throat, and she whipped around.
“Cara!” she exclaimed, dropping the produce and flinging herself at me. Her hug was filled with so much affection that some of my worry melted away, and I relaxed into her embrace.
“Hey, Stella. It’s good to have you home.”
She pulled away and examined me. “Holy shit, your hair! It’s grown out so much. Bet you’re happy about that, huh?”
Three inches to be exact, but that was more than enough to make a difference. The last time we’d seen each other, the ends barely brushed my chin. Now my hair was long enough to scrape back into a ponytail. “Actually, I’m thinking about getting it cut.”
“Really?” she asked, but her surprise made sense. When my hair fell out the first time around, I’d cried for days.
“Yeah, I like it better short,” I replied, combing my fingers through the overlong strands. “It’s easier to deal with. Is Mom home?”
“No, she left for work as soon as she dropped me off.” Stella turned down her music so we could hear each other properly. “I don’t know where Drew is, so it’s just the two of us. I was about to eat lunch. Want to join me?”
“Um…I’m not really hungry.”
Noticing my hesitation, she frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really.” I pulled out an island stool and lowered myself onto it with a heavy sigh. “I just got back from the hospital. I don’t think Willow is doing well.” Tears prickled at my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away.
“Oh, Cara. I’m so sorry,” Stella said. “How about this? I’ll put away the stuff for my salad, and we can make pancakes instead.”
“From scratch?” I asked, perking up.
“If that’s what you’d prefer.”
“With chocolate chips?”
She scoffed. “As if I’d make pancakes without them.”
I grinned at her. “What about music that doesn’t make my ears bleed?
” When it came to our musical interests, my sister and I existed in different hemispheres.
She only liked bands nobody else listened to or stuff that sounded angry, while I gravitated toward whatever was popular on the radio.
There were only a handful of soundtracks we agreed on.
Stella rolled her eyes, but it was good-natured. “You feeling Disney or Broadway?”
Grabbing as many of her salad ingredients as possible, I shrugged and started shoving them into the fridge. “Either is fine. Surprise me.”
“Fine,” she said, scooping up her phone, “but I hope you realize what a concession I’m making and agree it’s only fair that you do the dishes.”
While Stella changed the music, I pulled a mixing bowl and an electric griddle out from one of the lower cabinets. A minute later, the Rent soundtrack was blasting from the speaker as I gathered all the dry ingredients we needed.
“So tell me,” Stella said as she opened the bag of flour. A cloud of the white powder puffed into the air. “Was Drew messing with me, or did you really get your temps?”
“Got it back in March,” I told her proudly.
“And you made up with Trixy too?”
“Yup.” I cracked an egg into a mixing bowl and started beating. “Did he mention that we crashed a wedding at Wyndgate to get a selfie with the colonel?”
Stella nearly dropped the measuring cup in her hand. “Bullshit.”
Her surprise made me smirk. “If you need proof, I can show you the pictures.”
“No, that’s okay. I believe you,” she said with a little laugh. “I’m just shocked you went with him.”
My lips pursed at her assumption. Like it was Drew’s idea and I just tagged along.
She must have misread my expression, because she quickly added, “Please don’t take that the wrong way.
Getting out and doing stuff is a good thing, and I’m so happy about it.
Also, I’ve been thinking—Pratt Institute has a killer interior design program you should check out.
How fun would it be if we were both in New York next year? ”
This again?
“Stella, I’m going to be as straightforward with you as possible.
” I somehow managed to sound calm even though there was a pounding in my ears, and I wanted to break something.
“A lot has happened since you were home, and I’m more than happy to fill you in on everything, but if this conversation turns into another one of your lectures about how I need to stop wasting my time, then I’m done.
I know when we were kids, we made plans to attend the same school and share an apartment together, but…
That’s never going to happen. Not anymore.
I’m not interested in applying to college just for the heck of it.
I have no idea what I want to do with whatever life I have left, and I doubt I’ll figure it out anytime soon.
But just because we’re not on the same path doesn’t mean you’re not my sister. ”
Stella’s eyes welled up with tears, but she nodded.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, sniffling. “I think there’s something in my eye. I’m going to the bathroom to see if I can get it out. Be right back.”
“Okay, I’ll keep working on this,” I said, gesturing at the mess in front of us. I spent the next few minutes mixing the batter and waiting for the griddle to heat up. Once it was sizzling, I added a pat of butter and shouted, “Stella, I’m going to start frying up the pancakes!”
No response.
When I finished cooking and she was still gone, I knew she had no intention of returning. With a sigh, I took my food back to my room and ate by my lonesome.
* * *
Tue, Jun 8, 10:12 a.m.
Jeremiah James:
Hey. Quick check-in.
Have you scheduled your screening yet?
Cara Samuel:
It’s on my to-do list. Right under laundry and rewatch season 8 of Dapper Daddies.
Jeremiah James:
Respectfully, that needs to move to the top of the list.
Cara Samuel:
Bossy. What prompted this sudden concern for my well-being?
Jeremiah James:
Is it against the law to worry about my fake girlfriend/bucket list buddy?
Cara Samuel:
No, but I feel like there’s more to the story
Jeremiah James:
Okay fine. I had to schedule my own appointment today and it got me thinking.
Cara Samuel:
Thinking is dangerous. What kind of appointment?
Jeremiah James:
Surgery.
Cara Samuel:
WHAT kind of surgery?!?!
Jeremiah James:
Relax. Not the dramatic kind.
Remember that staircase incident back in December?
Cara Samuel:
The one where you mistook a three-story staircase for a playground?
Jeremiah James:
First of all, rude.
Second, I sprained my wrist. I thought it would heal. It did not.
Cara Samuel:
Oh no, JJ!
Jeremiah James:
Yeah. It’s been lingering and playing drums makes it unpleasant. Doctor says surgery will fix it
Cara Samuel:
You’ve been in pain this whole time?
Jeremiah James:
Define pain…
Kidding!
Yeah, but it’s manageable
Cara Samuel:
How are you playing show after show if it hurts?
Jeremiah James:
Tour doctor + pain meds + ice baths after every set. Very glamorous rockstar lifestyle
Cara Samuel:
Is that why you sometime smell like walking peppermint?
Jeremiah James:
Wow. Way to expose me
Yes. I’m 40% menthol at this point
Cara Samuel:
I hate that you’re hurting. You shouldn’t have to just push through it
Jeremiah James:
I won’t forever. Once tour is over, I’ll be getting that wrist upgrade
Which brings me back to you
Cara Samuel:
I hear the ominous music
Jeremiah James:
Schedule. The. Screening.
Cara Samuel:
Okay, okay. Moving it to the top of the list
Jeremiah James:
Good. Fake girlfriend/bucket list buddy privileges will be revoked if you don’t
Cara Samuel:
Threat noted
And thanks for caring
Jeremiah James:
Anytime