“Harper?”
“Astrid said you two were friends in Art Club. So that’s why I gave Harper that note to give you.”
Right, the note mummy.
And now my brain was whirling. Because I’d specifically told Harper I didn’t want Griffin to know about my cancer! So how could she talk about it behind my back?
Griffin rubbed his hair, messing it up even worse. “I didn’t know you and Harper were both in the same grade. In seventh grade, I mean.”
“Sorry. I was going to mention it, but—”
“Yeah, I was surprised, because you’re so ahead of me in math. Anyway, Harper said you had leukemia. For two years.”
“Yeah. I did.”
“And?”
“And what?” There were glass shards in my throat.“What do you want me to say about it?”
“I don’t know. How come you never mentioned it?”
“Griffin, I never lied to you or anyone else. I just . . . didn’t talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t want you to treat me like Cancer Girl! That’s how everyone in the seventh grade acts toward me, and I hate it. So I thought if I didn’t mention it—”
“It would just go away?”
“No. I mean, it can’t. It never will. Even if I’m all better.”
He didn’t say anything. Then he asked: “So what did you think, then?”
“Just that other things about me were true. Like . . . the fact I read books. And draw creatures.”
“Okay,” Griffin said. He took a slow breath. “I get that, Norah. I do. But if I told you something important about myself, something personal, would you think, Okay, that’s ALL he’s about, and nothing else?”
“Of course not,” I admitted.
“Well, that’s kind of how you treated me.”
My throat ached. I knew he was right; I was unfair to everybody.
But I couldn’t talk, because if I did, the glass shards would just keep breaking.
Finally, though, I had to ask. “So what is it you’d tell me? I mean, if you were telling me something personal.”
He scratched his nose. “Like, okay: Did you ever wonder why I just suddenly showed up here, in the eighth grade?”
“Yeah, actually.”
“It’s because my dad lost his job. And that meant we lost our house and had to move in with my grandmother.”
“Oh. That’s terrible,” I said, thinking how it explained some stuff: the beat-up bass. Why he never had pens. Why he didn’t still have a sign that said GRIFFIN DOOR.
“It’s not great. I mean, it’s not cancer, but . . .” He shrugged, smiling a little. “I miss my old friends, though.”
“You can still keep in touch with them, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same. They have new stuff going on. But so do I, I guess. Anyhow.” He got up. “I have to go now.”
“Why?” I blurted. “I mean, you don’t have to.”
“No, I do. We’re having band rehearsal at Rowan’s house. But I ducked out. I told them I forgot my phone, so.”
“Well, thanks for coming here.”
“I’d rather see you at school, Norah.” He peeked at me through his eyelashes. “Also Afterschool.”
Without saying good-bye, he turned and left.
Again I had the feeling of whoosh.
PERSEPHONE
The minute Griffin left, my brain leapt from No way I’m ever going back
to: Okay, so what if I DID go back?
to: How can I POSSIBLY go back, after missing so much time?
to: Hey, Norah, you already missed two whole years, what’s the big deal about another few days?
I called Harper that night. Already I’d forgotten my first instinct—to yell at her for telling Griffin about my cancer. Now I was glad he knew. No, not glad—relieved.
“Have you started the Greek myth speeches in English?” I asked her.
“No,” she said. I could tell she was grinning. “Ms. Farrell is meeting with us one-on-one to hear what we’re planning. Some people have started writing, but not me.”
“Okay, good.”
“So . . . does that mean you’re coming back to school?”
“Yeah, actually. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yay!” She was jumping; I could tell.
“Harper?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for hanging with me in that stinky bathroom. Aria, too.”
“Anytime.” She laughed. “But don’t make us do it again, okay?”
* * *
The next morning, Mom and Dad both came to drop me off at school, and to have another meeting with Ms. Castro about my “adjustment issues,” or something. I didn’t ask, because I knew I’d be hearing about it later from my parents. Possibly even from Ms. Castro. And if she summoned me to her office, there was no way to avoid going.
I went to homeroom. Right away Cait and Aria came running over, as if they hadn’t seen me in forever.
“We thought you weren’t coming back,” Cait said.
“So did I,” I admitted. “But I couldn’t stay away from that.” I pointed to Malik and Harrison, who were giving each other noogies. “So what’s been happening?”
Aria and Cait exchanged glances.
“What?” I asked.
“Well,” Aria said, “the big news is that Kylie and Silas got suspended.”
“Omigod, really? What for?”
“Remember when they left the building to get pizza?”
You mean when Kylie left the building and Silas followed her, the idiot. “Yeah.”
“They did it again,” Cait said, her eyes bulging. “Only this time, they left for the whole rest of the day. So now they’re both in major trouble.”
I shook my head. Kylie was Kylie, but Silas was still Silas. Something had happened to make him follow her like a stupid puppy, but maybe it was possible to remind him about the kid he used to be. Even if we weren’t friends anymore, I knew I should try. Besides, hadn’t Harper said he’d wanted to talk to me? In the blur of the last few weeks, I’d lost track of people.
Not Griffin, though. As soon as I saw him in first period math, I had a feeling like: Okay. This friendship—or relationship, whatever I’m supposed to call it—is important to me, and I do NOT want to mess it up.
So the first thing I said to him was: “Griffin, you’re right: I should have told you things. I’m very sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” he replied. Then he grinned. “Except not showing me
