Ellen Schwartz - Cellular

Cellular

Cellular

Ellen Schwartz

orca soundings

ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

Copyright 2010 Ellen Schwartz

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Schwartz, Ellen, 1949
Cellular / written by Ellen Schwartz.
(Orca soundings)

Issued also in an electronic format.
ISBN 978-1-55469-297-2 (bound).--ISBN 978-1-55469-296-5 (pbk.)

I. Title. II. Series: Orca soundings
PS8587.C578C44 2010 JC813.54 C2010-903602-6

First published in the United States, 2010
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010929063

Summary: When Brendan is diagnosed with leukemia, his life is turned upside down. With a smothering family and distant friends, all seems hopeless until he meets Lark, terminally ill yet full of life.

Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printedthis book on paper certified by the Forest Stewardship Council.

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Cover design by Teresa Bubela
Cover photography by Masterfile

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13 12 11 10 4 3 2 1

For Uncle Gerald

Table of Contents

Im sitting across the desk from Dr. Wong. My mom is beside me, clutching her purse.

Dr. Wong folds his hands. Clears his throat. Glances at the folder in front of him, then at me.

Im afraid I have bad news, Brendan. Its leukemia.

It goes right by me. I dont even hear it. Im so prepared to hear anything else a virus, mono, meningitis, even avian fluthat its only when my mom gasps that my mind backs up, rewinds the tape, and I actually hear what he just said.

Leukemia.

Im going to die.

It cant be.

It must be someone else.

Will it hurt?

Leukemia is for pathetic-looking bald kids with big eyes. Not me.

Is there treatment? Is there a cure?

Im going to die.

It was a complete shockbut then, looking back, I realized that I should have had a clue. Id been feeling like crap for months but kept brushing it off.

I had no energy. Got the chills out of nowhere.

Must be the flu.

Had no appetite. Started losing weight.

Must be a stomach thing.

Got pains in my joints. Weird bruises appeared.

Mustve worked out too hard at basketball practice. Pulled some muscles. Bumped into guys too hard in the paint.

I knew I should see a doctor, but there was no way I was going to miss basketball. When my mom pestered me, I said Id go, but after the season, after Id led my team to the finals. Only, of course, my scoring dropped off, my stamina disappeared, and Coach, looking puzzled and just a little pissed off, started sitting me on the bench. And, as it turned out, I was nowhere near a basketball court by the time my team playedand wonthe finals.

It was only when I couldnt get it up with Cassie that I really began to think something might be wrong. Ah, Cassie. Cassandra Villanueva. Big brown eyes, wavy black hair, luscious mouth.

We started going out when she came on to me at a party. It was early winter.

Id just been named captain of the basketball team. Later I wondered if that had anything to do with it. Cassie had a reputation for going out with all the captainsshed already gone through football and soccer.

But at that moment who cared if that was why Cassie was after me? Not me. She came into the kitchen, where I was hanging out with Kesh and some other guys. Slinked up to me, every part of her tracing curves in the air. She nodded at the can I was holding. Can I have a sip?

I almost told her there was plenty of beer on the table, but then I realized that wasnt what she was after. I held out the can. Sure.

She took a sip, handed it to me, then pulled it back. Oops. Sorry. Got lipstick on it. She started rubbing off the red mark with her fingertip, then smiled. Unless you want me to leave it there.

So we started going out. We got into it pretty good, making out, touching, driving each other crazy. One night I started unzipping her jeans. She put her hand on mine. Brendan, she said breathily, I dont do that.

I looked at her. Oh, really? Thats not what Tyler Martin said. He was soccer.

She turned red. That jerk! Then she shrugged. Well, okay then. But use a condom. And promise not to tell anybody.

So we did it all the time after that, in my basement, in her basement, in the backseat of my parents car. And I have to tell you I felt pretty good about it. Here I was, cruising through my senior year, captain of the basketball team, getting laid by the prettiest girl in school, on track for a basketball scholarship and maybe, someday, dream of dreams, the NBA.

This one night were fooling around on the couch in her rec room. Were kissing and touching and Cassie starts moaning in the back of her throat in that sexy way she has, and nothing is happening. I mean, Im as limp as the proverbial wet noodle. I havent been feeling well lately, Ive been tired, dragging my ass into school, and I can hardly get myself off the floor to make my jump shots. Ive noticed that I look like hell, pale and thin, so Ive stopped looking in mirrors.

But this is really weird. Its never happened before. I shift position to let Cassie rub herself against me. She starts unbuttoning her shirt, breathing those short warm breaths on my neck that tell me shes ready. But still nothing is happening. And this is totally bizarre because normally I just have to smell her hair to get a boner.

Finally I know its not going to happen. Gently, I push Cassie away. Uhyou know what? I dont feel so hot. Wed better not.

A look of disappointment flickers over her face. Then she puts on a smile. Thats okay, Bren. She looks concerned. I hope youre not coming down with something.

That was when I knew something was wrong. The next time my mom pestered me about seeing the doctor, I agreed to go.

Now, in the doctors office, my mom bursts into tears. Dr. Wong starts filling out hospital admission forms. My heart pounds. The word bounces around in my brain like a song you cant get out of your head.

Leukemia. Leukemia. Leukemia.

The family descends. Literally. My sister Maureen, heavy with child, as they say in my grandparents Bible, flies in from Calgary. Grandma and Grandpa, my moms parents, drive in from their retirement village in Kelowna. Theyre dressed, as usual, in matching golf outfitswhite pants, peach-colored shirts and spotless white shoes. Nana, my dads mom, takes the ferry over from Victoria.

We all sit in the living room. Were pretty squished, and I offer to sit on the floor, but they wont hear of it.

Not in your condition, honey,

Grandma says.

Its been like this. Kid gloves. My parents have been hovering, doing everything for me. Pouring my cereal. Making my bed. It would be funny if it wasnt so tragic.