Page 57 of The Heartbreakers
I let the strand go and laughed as it unraveled from my finger. “Of course not, Oliver. Why would you think that?”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to tell what you’re thinking sometimes. I thought maybe you didn’t want to say anything because it had to do with me.”
I breathed a sigh. “It’s not you. I promise.”
“Then what?”
“I already told you,” I said, speaking warily. “I don’t know.” I was trying to swallow my frustration, but the more Oliver pushed the subject, the more uncomfortable I felt. I knew it wouldn’t be long until I popped like the bottle rocket I could sometimes be, and I hunted for a way to change the subject.
“How can you not know?” he pressed, looking at me like I was an idiot. The doubt on his face was all it took.
“Because, Oliver!” I said, throwing my hands into the air. “I just don’t. All I know is that there was this disgusting pit in my stomach whenever I thought about leaving.” There was no way I was going to tell him that Istillfelt that way whenever I thought too much about Cara.
“Okay, okay,” he said, his voice softening as he held his hands out in defense. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just thought maybe I could help.”
“No offense, but what can you do?” It was nice and all for him to try, but if my brother—one of the two people in this world who knew me best—couldn’t help, then how could Oliver?
He shrugged. “No clue, but talking about it isn’t going to hurt.”
“What are you, my therapist?” I knew I sounded harsh, mean even, but I could feel the pull of the rip current again. Joining the band on tour was supposed to help me figure out what was bothering me, but so far all I felt was more confused.
“Actually, I consider myself more a detective,” Oliver said, cracking a small smile. “Right now I’m working a case called The Mysterious Upset Stomach.” I looked at him, lips pinched tight, but he just raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Relax, Stella. I’m not going to judge you.”
Askyourselfwhatyou’re so afraid of…
Finally, I sighed. “When Paul called me, I was super-excited,” I admitted. “I mean, jumping-up-and-down excited. The first person I went to tell was Cara, and I think—I think it was seeing her bedroom door that made me panic. She has all these pictures of us taped up, and it reminded me of when we first found out she had cancer.”
“What happened?”
I lowered my head onto the table and didn’t say anything for a while. That was a day I didn’t like thinking about.
Cara had told me she was feeling strange, bogged down and constantly tired, but I’d dismissed it as exhaustion from too many long hours at cheer practice. Eventually Mom brought her to the doctors. They decided to run some tests, and I thought,Okay, maybe Cara is sick, but it’s probably just mono or something.
Her doctor would give her some meds, tell her to take it easy, and she’d be fine. The truth was, I was too busy with our school’s winter production ofGuysandDollsto pay much attention. The Art Club was designing the set, and I was in charge of the entire project.
When the test results came back, my parents sat Drew and me down at the kitchen table so Cara could explain what was going on. I’d been annoyed—it was a Saturday and I was supposed to be at school putting the finishing touches on the set before Thursday’s opening show—so instead of paying attention, I was texting my friends to tell them I’d be late.
“Stella, are you even listening to me?” Cara had screamed. I remembered looking up, seeing the tears on her face, and still not grasping the severity of the situation.
“Yeah, what?” I’d asked.
“It’s cancer.” That time she didn’t yell. The hard line of her jaw was enough, along with the word “cancer.” It packed the kind of punch that could only be compared to a championship-winning knockout. That or getting run over by a dump truck.
Shaking my head, I lifted my eyes back up to look at Oliver. “I didn’t notice she’d been crying,” I said, my own eyes watering. “Something was wrong with my sister, and I didn’t even realize it.”
“Hey,” he said. His chair scraped against the floor as he scooted over and draped his arm over my shoulder. “You’re not all-knowing, Stella. How were you supposed to tell she was sick? X-ray vision?”
“That’s not the point.” I tucked my elbows into my sides so I could hold myself. “I didn’t notice anything was wrong because I was too busy to notice.”
Oliver shook his head at me. “No, Stella. You were living your life. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
My nails bit into my palm as I clenched my fist. “You don’t get it. If I’d been there”—thinking about this made me squeeze my eyes shut—“I would have known something was wrong. We could have taken her to the doctor sooner, and then maybe her cancer wouldn’t be as bad.”
He was quiet for a minute as he chose his words. “You’re right,” he said finally, which made me suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t get it. Not at all. You’re blaming yourself for something that’s out of your control, like a thunderstorm or an alien invasion. Fact: bad things happen sometimes. You’re gonna get the shit kicked out of you sooner or later, and that’s just part of life. What matters is how you absorb the blow.”
“Okay?” I wasn’t quite sure if Oliver was saying I’d actually get beaten up or if this was just some terrible guy analogy. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stop feeling so guilty, Stella. You’re absorbing all wrong.”
