Page 26 of Styx & Stones

I scoff. “An upgrade? Really?”

“Yep, the port is the way of the future, Stones. It’s the Bugatti of the CVC world.”

A lazy chuckle escapes me. “Can the way of the future just not involve cancer at all?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That would be nice.”

I let my eyes cross and the twinkle lights and colors above form a psychedelic swirl. My brain hurts. My body too. And despite the cooling cap I’ve been using every chemo session to save my hair from falling out, there are long strands decorating my pillow and sheets.

“I should have a funeral for my hair,” I blurt, before I can stop myself.Chemo brain is a real thing.Who knew?

“You’re losing it? I thought the cooling cap was supposed to prevent that.”

“It doesn’t always work. Of course I had to be in the thirty-five percent of patients it doesn’t work for. It’s kind of stupid really ... here I am fighting for my life, and the biggest fear I have right now is going bald.” I pick up the phone and look at him.

Styx chuckles. “I hear ya. I’ve been wearing the same beanie for weeks because I officially have zero hair left on my crown, but the back and sides are still going strong. I’m workin’ on that combover we talked about.”

I laugh so hard I choke. My whole body spasms and cries uncle. “Oh my God, don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry, I can’t make any promises,” he says. My laughter dies down and Styx’s face softens. “I like hearing you laugh.”

“You’re such a dork.” I sit up, reach for my water and sip from the straw. “You have to send me pictures.”

He grins. “For the last time. I’m not sending you dick pics.”

I laugh, only I still have water in my mouth, and it sprays all over my phone, my bed, and me.

“Jesus, Stones. I never would have taken you for a spitter.” His lips twist in a crooked grin.

“Oh my god!” I squeal and grab a tissue from the box beside me, attempting to mop up the mess. Even this hurts, so I toss the sodden wad on the floor and lie down again. “You’re so gross.”

“Ow,” he complains, wincing and holding his stomach as he tries to contain his own laughter and fails. It quickly turns into a loud, phlegm-filled cough. I hold my breath, waiting for it to pass, praying he won’t keel over on me.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You thought I was going to croak for a minute there, didn’t you?”

I nod. “Little bit, yeah.”

“Nah, takes more than a little cancer to kill me.”

“I see that.” I shake my head, wondering how this joker, this loner boy became my, well ... I don’t know what the hell he is, but right now, Styx is the only thing keeping me from spiraling into fear, grief, and a large pack of Double Stuf Oreos.

“So, it’s homecoming tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh,” I say. “And?”

“You wanna go?”

“And puke on everyone? No thanks. Although it might be kind of tempting to puke all over my ex-best friends. Can you imagine their faces?”

“I really can. You sure you want to pass that up?”

“Well, considering I’m still having trouble standing for more than ten minutes right now, I don’t think dancing is really in the cards for me.”

“Yeah, me either. Hey, maybe we could get wheelchairs and just bump them together every few seconds in a slow dance.”

I laugh. “That would be something.” I yawn and run my hand through my hair. Several more strands fall away. “Hey Styx?”

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