“That does sound tricky,” Raina agreed. “Did you tell her how you feel about that?”
“No, but I’m sure she can tell.”
Raina took a small box of Skittles out of her pocket and handed it to me. “So here’s a thought: I wonder if you’d be interested in joining a support group at the hospital. It’s for kids who’ve returned to school but are still patients at Phipps.”
“You mean come back to Phipps—”
“Just once a week. After school. For support.”
“No, that’s impossible,” I said immediately. I could fast-forward to the conversation with my parents: Norah, you can’t do BOTH the support group AND Afterschool. It’s too much! So for now, why not put Afterschool on hold, and later, when you get your strength back—
Raina chewed some Skittles. “Why is it impossible?”
“Because I have other stuff to do.”
“Like what?”
“After-school stuff. Plus homework! And I need to rest.”
“Norah, it’s only one afternoon a week. And it’s on Fridays, so you don’t need to worry about homework.”
That made it sound doable, I had to admit. But the thought of coming here every week? It would feel like a giant step backward. And seeing all those sick kids in the waiting room every time—I just couldn’t. No matter how comfortable it felt when I stepped off the elevator, I didn’t belong here anymore. I didn’t want to belong here.
“I can’t,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
The catch in my voice seemed to take her by surprise. “Well, will you at least think about it?” she asked.
I nodded. But of course I wouldn’t.
EARRINGS
As soon as we were in the car on the way to the airport, Mom asked if I’d “gotten all my questions answered today.” By that, I knew she meant: I can’t ask what you talked about with Dr. Glickstein “in private,” but will you at least tell us the general topic?
So I said the general topic was Hair.
“You couldn’t discuss that in front of us?” Dad asked. “Hair?”
“Well, it’s embarrassing.” That wasn’t a lie. “Also, I wanted to ask them about ear piercing.”
That wasn’t a lie either—at least technically. Because ever since my phone call with Harper yesterday, I had wanted to ask about ear piercing. I was thinking that with long, swishy earrings like Ms. Castro’s, nobody would mistake me for a boy.
The quick way Mom was breathing, I could tell she was trying not to freak. “Norah, honey, ear piercing is a parent decision, not a doctor one.”
“Yeah, I know. But I wanted to hear if they were okay with it before I asked you.”
“Why? Because you assumed I’d say no?”
“I thought you’d say I could get an infection or something, so I should wait. And I’m sick of waiting for everything! That’s all I do! Wait, wait, wait!”
“Okay, I’m lost,” Dad said.
Mom huffed impatiently. “Greg, we just need to get on the Whitestone Bridge—”
“I know how to get to the airport, Janie!! I mean, what does ear piercing have to do with hair?”
“I just think I would look a lot better if I could wear earrings,” I explained. “At least while my hair is short. And they do it—the piercing—at the mall. Harper went with Kylie and Aria yesterday—”
“Hold on,” Mom said sharply. “Norah, I’m about to get on a plane. This is not the time to bring up ear piercing at the mall!”
“But why? I don’t even need you to come with me. I could go with Harper. Or Dad.”
“Not me,” Dad said. “Not my department. Sorry.”
Then I made a bad mistake: “Or with Nicole.”
“No,” Mom snapped. Her face went red. “You can do it on your birthday, Norah. With me.”
But my birthday wasn’t until April. “My hair will be all grown in by my birthday! I won’t need earrings then!”
“I’m sorry, Norah, but I just can’t think about this right now! We should have had this conversation yesterday. And I really do not want another fight with you just before I get on the plane!”
The car went silent. Dad put on the radio: traffic and weather on the eights, then sports. I stared out the window for a while, then took out my sketchbook to draw some norahs.
When we finally got to the airport, Mom had passed from mad-at-me to sorry-she-yelled-at-me. “Baby, I’m going to miss you terribly,” she said as we hugged. “But you can call me anytime, day or night. You know that, right? And we’ll Skype.”
“Sure,” I said. “That’ll be great.”
“And I’ll be back here to see you in three weeks! Maybe we’ll do the ear piercing then, all right? Would you like that?”
“But my hair will be longer in three weeks.”
“Norah, honey . . .” Her eyes filled. She didn’t seem annoyed with me now. Just sad. Sad for everything.
And suddenly, so was I. All of it—the divorce, the cancer, Mom leaving—was just totally unfair.
“Sorry, Mom, I was just teasing,” I said quickly. “Yes, I would like that. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby. Be good, and listen to your dad.”
“I will.”
I’m sorry I brought up the earrings like that. I wish I were nicer—a better patient. A better daughter. And sorry I said I’d do it with Nicole. You’re my mom—of course I’ll do it with you.
Please don’t go.
But then she left, because it was time, and she had to.
* * *
That night, Nicole cooked us dinner. It was really good (pasta with vegetables; brownies for dessert), but after Mom took off, I guess I wasn’t feeling very hungry. So while Dad and Nicole watched a movie in the living room, I curled up in bed with D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths and opened to the story of Persephone and Demeter, how Demeter never rested until she got her daughter back from Hades. I knew there were other stories about moms and daughters, but right then it was the only one I felt like reading.
SPIDER-GIRL
The next morning, Griffin was late for math. Ms. Perillo frowned as she reminded
