My fingers nervously picked at the frayed threads of the hole in my sleeve.
She lowered her head, checking her watch.
I couldn't watch anymore. I shook my head, turned, and fled the classroom.
The air outside should have felt fresh, liberating even. Instead, it felt heavy. I watched them get into a small car. She held the child in her arms with such tenderness, such care.
It was a sight so unfamiliar to me that it stung.
I hope she's happy, I told myself. I hope her life gets better and better.
"When we get back, don't tell them I saw Mom," I said to Danny.
"Okay," he promised.
But Danny was young and innocent. The moment we crossed the threshold, the secret spilled out.
Crash!
A wine glass shattered at my feet. A pair of chopsticks flew past my ear, striking the wall.
"You useless, ungrateful wretch!" Dad roared, his face flushed with rage.
"Hurry up and tell your father you'll never go looking for that dead woman again!" Grandma Chavez poked my forehead hard with her bony finger. "How many times have I told you? That woman is a tramp. She is not a good person! If she hadn't insisted on divorcing and abandoning us, would our family be in this mess? Living in chaos like animals?"
She wouldn't stop. "If she hadn't dropped everything and run off, you wouldn't have been pulled out of school! She's a selfish creature who only cares about herself. Don't you dare learn her cold-blooded ways!"
Grandpa Adams muttered a curse under his breath, his chopsticks tapping impatiently against his plate. "Enough! Eat!"
She had never held a good reputation in this family.
And neither had I.
After dinner, I knelt to change the dressing on Dad's leg wound. It looked angry, but he barely flinched.
"Dad," I whispered, keeping my eyes on the bandages. "My stomach... it's been hurting a lot lately. Can you take me to the doctor?"
He jerked his leg back. Ignoring me, he turned, climbed onto the bed, and faced the wall.
"My leg isn't even healed yet, and you're complaining about a stomach ache?" His voice was cold, muffled. "If it hurts, endure it."
I picked up the basin of bloody water and walked out.
Once outside, I pressed my hand against my abdomen and pinched hard, trying to distract myself from the gnawing pain inside.
It wasn't just a stomach ache.
It was a battle against cancer.
This was the third time I had tried to tell him.
When I returned to the room I shared with my brother, Danny was curled up in the corner, his eyes red and rimmed with tears.
"Big Sis, I'm sorry," he sniffled. "Did I get you in trouble?"
I swallowed the rising bile and shook my head. I wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, but my curiosity got the better of me.
"That classmate of yours," I asked softly. "Alex. How is he?"
Danny wiped his nose. "Alex? He can't see out of one eye. His mom comes to school to see him a lot."
I froze. He can't see?
I thought of those beautiful eyes I had seen earlier. One of them was blind?
Heaven really liked to play cruel jokes.
"Have you... have you seen his dad?" I asked.
"No, but I heard he's a really good person."
"Danny," I said, gripping his hand. "Alex and you are close, right? That woman... she's my mother, too."
I took a deep breath. "Can you convince Alex to bring his mom out? Just for a minute? I have something I need to say to her. Please?"
Danny looked fearfully toward the door, checking for Dad or Grandma. Only when the coast was clear did he nod.
"Okay. I'll try. Pick me up after school tomorrow, Big Sis."
"Okay!" I nodded frantically.
That night, the pain was so intense I broke out in a cold sweat.
It was like this every night now. Over the past month, the agony had escalated from a dull ache to razor blades twisting in my gut.
In the living room, Dad and Grandma were still awake. Their voices drifted through the thin walls.
"Damn it," Dad grumbled. "The wages were short this week. I'm not getting the anti-inflammatory shot tomorrow. Take the money and use it for Danny's tuition."
"I see Cami has been crying about her stomach hurting," Grandma said, her tone unusually subdued. "When you go out tomorrow, maybe buy her a few painkillers."
I gripped the corner of my quilt and pulled it over my head, pressing my hands over my ears.
I didn't want to hear anymore.
Early the next morning, Dad returned carrying a small plastic bag of medicine.
I didn't know if he had agreed with Grandma last night, but as he unpacked the bag, I scanned the labels.
There was nothing for me.
I swallowed the disappointment, finished the housework, and collected the wheat drying in the yard. Then I hurried toward Danny's school.
I ran the whole way, my heart hammering against my ribs, my mood a turbulent mix of anxiety and hope.
What should I say? I wondered as the school gates came into view. How do I even say hello?
