“But what if I’d rather just homeschool with you? Couldn’t we go back to that? Remember all the math we did? And the science experiments? And the Greek myths?”
“Of course I remember, Norah.” She reached across to hold my hands. “But no. I’m very sorry.”
I couldn’t believe what she was saying. Maybe I was hearing it wrong. “We can’t? Why not?”
“Because . . . well, the truth is, I’m not teaching anymore.”
“You’re not?” I pulled my hands away.
“I’ve switched careers,” Ayesha said quietly. “I’m going to nursing school now. To be a pediatric oncology nurse, maybe get a job at Phipps one day.”
“Oh.” It felt as if I’d just been snatched by Hades and dumped into the underworld.
Ayesha pouted, teasing me for my expression. “Aww, don’t look so sad, Norah. Come on, aren’t you happy for me?”
“Yeah. If that’s what you want to do. But I thought—I mean, didn’t you like teaching sick kids?”
She got up from her chair to hug me. “Norah, listen to me: I loved working with you. You were my best student—my favorite. But that was when you were sick. We can’t go back to that; we can’t go back to anything. All we can do is move forward, you know?”
“Ayesha, I tried to move forward,” I wailed. “But I couldn’t!”
“Then you need to try harder, okay? And you need to give other people a chance.”
“To do what? Understand?” I said the word like it burned my mouth.
Ayesha went silent. Then she said, “Let me ask you something: Do you want people to understand?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because maybe you like that a little bit, feeling that nobody gets what you’ve been through. I know that’s how I felt for a very long time. I think I was angry with the universe for making me sick, and maybe also at other kids for not being sick. And then, one day, I guess I just got tired of being angry.”
Now tears were streaming down my face. Snot, too, which I wiped with my hand.
Is Ayesha right—do I LIKE thinking no one understands?
Am I angry?
All right, maybe I am.
And why shouldn’t I be? At everyone! My friends, my parents, my teachers. Even people at the hospital, including Ayesha, who was supposed to save me, not desert me!
Although it was funny how as soon as I had this thought, it popped like a big wet soap bubble. I wasn’t being fair—Ayesha wasn’t deserting me. She was just moving forward.
And she was right: I needed to move forward too.
At least try to move forward.
Try harder.
She pulled out a tissue from her purse. “Wipe,” she said. “Blow.”
I did.
Ayesha poked my elbow. “Hey, didn’t you like my technique just then? Don’t you think I’ll make a rock-star nurse?”
I nodded. “You’re a rock star at everything, Ayesha.”
“Aww, what a sweet thing to say, Norah! Thank you!”
“Except baking,” I added, sticking out my tongue.
WHOOSH
Nobody made me go to school on Wednesday. Ms. Castro called to see if there was anything she could do, but I told her there wasn’t.
Then she said, “Well, Norah, I hope you’ll return very soon. You’ve already triumphed over so much, so if you put your mind to it, I know you can succeed at Burr!”
I groaned inside my head. Ms. Castro was congratulating me again, acting like my leukemia (which she still wouldn’t name!) was something I’d “triumphed over,” a “challenge” I’d “overcome,” like hiking up a vacation mountain. Why was I being so difficult when I had a problem I’d already solved?
It’s all behind you now!
Woohoo!
After I finally got off the phone, I thought: Okay, so maybe if Ayesha can’t be my teacher, I’ll just stay home and teach myself. You can learn anything online, right? And this way I’ll never have to see Griffin again.
Because more and more, as the bake-sale incident replayed itself in my mind like a never-ending GIF, I realized that Griffin’s face—his expression—was the most upsetting thing about it. If he hadn’t “heard” about my secret before, he definitely heard about it right then. And in the worst possible way.
So there was nothing else to think except that I’d blown it with the first boy I’d ever crushed on. I’d never even shown him my kraken sketches, or told him what I’d decided about the norah: that her tentacles could transform into wings.
And now, of course, it was too late.
* * *
I was on the sofa, half napping, half reading one of my favorite stories—the one about Orpheus, the musician who followed his wife, Eurydice, into the underworld. Hades said Orpheus could rescue Eurydice—but only if, as he was leading her out of the underworld, he didn’t look back. And guess what happened? Yep.
“Norah? Friend here to see you,” Dad called from the foyer. I looked up, expecting Harper.
And I can’t explain this, but right before the “friend” walked into the living room, something changed. It was feeling like whoosh—a sense that all the air molecules had shifted in a weird direction. So when I looked up and saw it was Griffin, my heart was already zooming.
“Hey,” he said. His spiky hair looked messier than usual. Probably from the wind, I thought, wondering if he’d walked all this way from school.
“Hi, Griffin,” I said in a squeaky voice I didn’t recognize. “Why are you here?”
He perched awkwardly on the edge of Dad’s favorite chair. “Just to see what’s going on. Are you okay?”
I swallowed. “Yeah. I was sick, but I’m better now.”
“Good. So when are you coming back to school?”
I shrugged. “It’s sort of complicated.”
“No, it’s not.”
“What?” I stared at him.
“If you’re all better, you should just come back,” he said quietly. “Look, Norah, I know you were sick before. Before this year, I mean.”
It felt like the floor was cracking underneath me. “You did? How did you—”
“Ezra said something once, but I didn’t get it. And Astrid made some comment, but I never trust her. So I figured
