Page 125 of The Comeback Summer

Suji clearly reads the thinly veiled panic in my voice. “Afraid of heights?” she asks.

“More like scared about not getting off the ground.”

I tell her that I agreed to meet Hannah there without checking the website—which I did this morning to see if there was a weight limit. It said that anyone could climb as long as they could fit in the harness and have a belayer of “equal or greater weight.”

“I don’t want to show up and find out that all the belayers working are lightweights,” I say, my stomach twisting at the thought.

I can’t handle a repeat of the Evanston Carnival for Meg McKeen’s birthday party in fifth grade, when the safety barwouldn’t latch around me and I had to get off the ride in front of everyone.

“Hmm,” Suji says, thinking. “You could always call ahead and ask? I assume they’ll know the weights of the belayers working today.”

It’s such an obvious idea, but it calms me. “I could kiss you,” I tell Suji, digging out my phone again.

•••

TWENTY MINUTES LATER,I’m walking up to the park entrance, where I spot Hannah pacing in front of the sign. I swear, my sister has so much energy that it’s physically impossible for her to sit still.

“There you are!” I call out, waving.

Thanks to Suji’s brilliant idea, I found out there are not just one, but two belayers working today who have a good twenty pounds on me. Now I’m excited to see the view of the lake from the top of the wall. Or almost the top. I bet the view’s even nice from halfway up.

At the sound of my voice, Hannah turns to face me. It looks like she’s been crying—her eyes are red, her face pale. My eyes instantly well with tears, too. I can practically feel her emotions—an ache in my throat and tightness in my chest.

I fold her into my arms as she starts to cry.

“You’re okay,” I tell her, hoping that’s true. “What’s wrong?”

Hannah mumbles something, including one word that starts with aJand ends with anosh.

Rage instantly ignites inside me.

“What did that asshole do?” I ask, trying to keep the fury out of my voice. That piece of shit better not have hurt my sister.

“His mom,” Hannah says through hiccups.

“Mrs.Jacobson?” I ask. From everything Hannah has told me in the past, the woman is lovely. “What did she do?”

“She’s dying,” Hannah says before dissolving into more tears.

“Oh no,” I say, leading Hannah toward a bench. We sit down and Hannah rests her head on my shoulder. I rub her back as she cries, and as much as it hurts to see my sister upset, a tiny part of me feels good to be needed again.

Lately, Hannah hasn’t had much use for me. She’s been happy, which makes me happy, but I’ve been feeling a little lost without having to take care of her.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell Hannah. “I know how much Mrs.Jacobson means to you.”

But even as I say the words, something doesn’t sit right. Yes, Hannah and Josh’s mom were close back when Hannah was in high school, but as far as I know, she hasn’t talked to the woman in years.

Sure enough, Hannah pulls back from my embrace, her eyes red and puffy. “That’s not it,” she says.

My stomach sinks. Hannah had a doctor’s appointment this morning—maybe something is wrong with her?

“Han, what’s going on?” I ask, my voice wobbling. My sister is the only person I have in this entire world—if I lose her... just the thought of living without her knocks the wind out of me.

“I can’t sit anymore,” Hannah says, leaping up from the bench as if it’s on fire. She starts walking through the park toward the lake, and I rush to catch up.

“Hannah, stop,” I plead. “You’re scaring me.”

My sister slows down, and with her eyes glistening with tears, she tells me everything: Josh didn’t tell her about hismom’s diagnosis (typical); he moved back to Chicago to be with her (which is the decent thing to do); he isn’t going to stay in Chicago for good (not a surprise); he’s eventually going to leave and pursue his dream career across the country (because he’s an asshole and that’s what assholes do).

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