Carmen Jenner [Jenner - Styx & Stones

STYX & STONES

CARMEN JENNER

Styx & Stones

Copyright 2019 Carmen Jenner

Published by Carmen Jenner

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the authors work and not pirating this book. Pirates suck!

Styx & Stones: Carmen Jenner August 25th,2019

carmen@carmenjenner.com

Editing: Creating Ink

www.creatingink.com/

Cover Design: Tall Story Designs

www.tallstorydesigns.com.

Photo Credit: Sara Eirew

www.saraeirew.com

All children, except one, grow up.

J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

DEDICATION

For DavidDadwho shows me every day what a real father is, thanks for being our familys rock, my mothers babysitteroops! I mean soulmateand a kickass poppy. Cancer may have started the fight, but youre sure as hell going to be the one to finish it.

For Trev, we miss you every day.

For Helen, I adore you.

For Ma, we think of you often and fondly.

For my own Nan, I miss your hugs, our late-night cup of tea, and always setting your table for the following morning.

And finally, for Kristina Zolnar, who read this whilst enduring her own personal hell with this disease. I cant thank you enough. I wish I could have been there in person to hold your hand. I have no words for how much I value your friendship .

PROLOGUE

STYX

C ancer sucks.

And then you die.

At least thats how its supposed to go.

Only sometimes, fate likes to screw with you. It makes you hold on just long enough to lure you into thinking that youre gonna make it, that you wont lose the most important things to youlike your epic collection of Rolling Stone magazines dating back thirty years. Like family, your youth, or your sense of self. Like the girl who walked into my chemo session and stole my heart.

Stones was unlike any teen Id ever met.

We thought we had forever.

We were wrong.

Sounds like some fucked up Romeo and Juliet shit, right?

Only it wasnt the Capulets and Montagues trying to keep us apart.

It was life. It was cancer.

This isnt one of those poor-me-Ive-got-cancer books. Its a race against the Grim Reaper. Its a fucked-up fairytaleif Prince Charming was a cynical, bratty eighteen-year-old ... who dies.

Oops! Spoiler alert .

You might not want to get too attached. But dont feel bad, because despite making my grand exit at the tender age of eighteen, I lived.

If nothing else.

I lived .

CHAPTER ONE

STYX

B alls.

This is balls. I sit in the front seat and stare at the hospital entrance.

Fucking balls.

Im a kid. Were supposed to do stupid shit, cut school, drink, do drugs, go to parties, have sex, get felt up in a theater, maybe feel up someone else in a theater, and make thoughtless, spur-of-the-moment decisions.

Were supposed to outlive our parents .

We dont die at seventeen. Cancer doesnt kill us; middle age does. At least, thats how its supposed to go.

Reality is different.

Reality is sitting in a fucking chemo center while a frumpy nurse jabs a tube in your port and pumps your body full of poison to kill the cancer currently eating away at your insides.

Reality is watching your mom and dad argue over money when they think youre asleep because they cant afford the roof over your head and the medication thats supposed to keep you alive.

Reality is walking into school and everyone knowing, everyone staring at you like youre a pariah, or worsebelieving cancers contagious.

Reality is puking up your guts for two days straight after a chemical cocktail.

Reality. Is. Fucking. Balls .

Luckily for me, I dont dwell much on reality. Not when I was given the all clear at twelve, not when I just had time to grow my hair out again into kickass, flowing locks that I refused to brush no matter how my mom begged. And I definitely didnt dwell when cancer came back again.

You ready? Mom switches off the engine and grabs her oversized purse. These days, its full of pills, contraptions, paperwork, and a defibrillator. Okay, shes not really carrying a defibrillator, but she may as well be.

I glance at the entrance again, wishing I didnt have to go in there, and silently cursing the cancer for not killing me the last time around. Why dont you go surprise Dad at work?

What?

This isnt my first time. Youll be fidgeting like you always do and it will drive me nuts. Ill snap, and youll cry, and think you can fix me by grabbing snacks from the vending machine. Lets just skip all that. Go see Dad at work, hang out like you used to when I was a normal kid.

Your dad and I are separated, Styx, and you are a nor

I hold up my hand to halt her words. We both know Im not normal. Im dying.

Dont say that, Mom hisses. Dont you ever say that.

Were all dying. Some of us just quicker than others.

Moms almost gray hair is pulled back in a bun so severe it looks like it hurts. The lines on her face deepen as she frowns. Shes too thin, has permanent bags under her eyes, and a pinched look about her that she never used to have. Shes only forty-two, but my cancer has ravaged her body almost as much as mine.

She shakes her head. Im not leaving you in there by yourself.

Yes, you are. I grab her face and kiss her cheek. I cant remember the last time I did that. Her wide-eyed expression tells me she cant remember either. I climb out of the car and grab my messenger bag full of Rolling Stone and snacks that I know I wont eat. I got a stack of magazines, and Carissa will take good care of me.