Page 40 of Missed Notes (Rixon High 5)

Cole: How are you feeling? I can’t stop thinking about last night… we need to talk.

Talk.

Bitter laughter bubbled out of me. Before Dr. Peters’s unexpected bombshell last week, I might have agreed. I might have texted Cole back and given him another chance.

But what kind of person did it make me if I dragged him into my life knowing I might not be around in a year or two or five. I’d researched the survival rates. Approximately seventy-five percent of teenagers my age with CML survived. Which sounded like pretty good odds, but it still meant out of every ten kids almost three didn’t make it.

My stomach dropped, the gnawing pit of fear growing every second.

Ignoring Cole’s text, I washed up, then went downstairs in search of Mom and some sustenance. Not that I felt much like eating. But she was right, I needed to keep as healthy as possible.

“I went with an omelet,” she said the second I stepped into the kitchen. “Eggs are an excellent source of protein as well as vitamin D.”

“Can I expect a nutrient breakdown of all my meals from here on out?”

“Sorry, I’m just trying to get a handle on things. This helps me feel in control.” Mom motioned to the pile of ingredients beside her. “I’ve got spinach, cheese, onion.”

“Sounds great, Mom. Is Aaron still over at Poppy’s house?”

“He was but I think they’ve gone out. Date night.”

“Lucky them,” I murmured.

“Hey now, you’ll get your time.” She gave me a reassuring smile.

I struggled to return it. Maintaining a positive outlook was getting harder by the minute. I could only imagine what it would be like when Dr. Peters confirmed the leukemia.

Dad came into the kitchen. “There she is. How’s my hungover girl?”

“Dad,” I groaned, trying to shuck out of his reach as he hooked his arm around my neck and kissed my head.

“Feeling better?”

“I’m fine.”

“You need to eat. Your Mom’s been reading up and—”

“Ash,” Mom warned.

“What? I thought we were attacking this thing head on.”

“We are babe. But Sofia is still feeling a tad delicate.”

“I’m not… that’s not… you know what, forget it. You two clearly aren’t listening to a word I say.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t be like that. We just care and we want to make sure you’re getting all the goodness and nutrition you need so your body is primed and ready to fight this thing.”

I dropped my forehead onto my arm and tried to block them out.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Dad asked Mom, the two of them launching into a discussion about me, while I was sitting right there.

I didn’t come up again, not until Mom pushed a plate toward me and the rich smell made my stomach growl.

“Eat,” she ordered.

“Fine. But you two need to stop acting like I’m a child.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not—” I pinned her with a dark look, and she held up her hands. “Fine. But you need to promise not to make last night a regular thing. We have enough to worry about, Sofia. Without worrying about where you are or what you’re doing.”

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