Abigail nods. “I get it. You just wanted to keep him safe.”

I nod as I realize Yeah, that’s exactly what I wanted to do.

Her eyes are marbles of concern, which is another reason why I don’t tell anyone anything. Pity is the lowliest of human emotions. “It makes sense to try to hide what he wants to hide, but… that’s not your job, Cham, okay? You have to tell this to Gene,” she urges. “If you explain everything to him, he’ll understand why you wouldn’t let him into your house, and he’ll realize what a star you are and what a not-star Helga is.”

I shake my head. “It’s too late. I think launching potatoes at his face sorta sealed the deal.”

“I’m sorry.” She hugs me so hard she squeezes a tear out. “That really sucks. All of it.”

“Maybe I’ll get a college essay out of it! Title: ‘Girl’s Dad Gets Sick and Then She Learns Things.’”

“Um, yes, can we talk about that, please?” She pokes me with a bright pink egg-shaped fingernail. “You asked Brendan, which at first I was like mega-bitch-mode about, but then I saw how you were looking at him in the kitchen—” She clasps her hands together and bats her eyelashes.

“Oh my god, I was not.” I laugh—a combination of nervous laughter and happy laughter and relieved laughter and Wow, I’m experiencing a lot of emotions.

“Come on, Cham, high school is almost over,” she says, pulling at one of my frizzy curls. “Maybe besides graduating twelfth grade, we could graduate from our own shitty self-consciousness.”

“You’re never self-conscious.”

“I know.” She does this ass-shaking move as she walks toward her car and opens the driver’s-side door. A mischievous smile creeps across her face. “But you are.”

“Dick!”

“Hey, with graduation comes big things.”

“Or just things.”

“Big things,” she says, nodding knowingly and turning her car on. The music blasting from her speakers fills me with the urge to dance. I squash it ’cause like we’re in public. “See you at the Breast Cancer Polar Plunge tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I lie, because I can’t think of something better to say.

“Repeat after me, Cham,” Abigail says, lowering her window as she backs out of my driveway. “Big fucking serendipitous things.”

16

Days ’til graduation: 30

Dear Universe,

I know you’re having a ball up there at my expense, but cut it out, okay? The deadline for Nicaragua is coming up and I have to do something, decide things, determine which course of action to take, which I guess is going to lay the foundation for my summer and also my whole life. How can I possibly choose which world to stay in while the other world moves forward without me? No pressure, though! Definitely don’t panic!

What better way to spend a Sunday morning than picking up neon-orange T-shirts with my mom so we can walk in circles around each other in the name of brain degeneration?