Auntie Jackie was one of the first people who found out what happened at my old school. She kept saying everything I’ve always heard when I come here: “There’s no reason to be ashamed, but you still have to keep it a secret.” I don’t know if I can keep doing both.

Dr. Khan strolls in just as Auntie Jackie leaves. The door’s open for just a few moments, but I hear the sound of a baby wailing.

Dr. Khan has a different hijab on every time I see her. I’m sure they’re meant to impress the little kids, but I still think they’re cool. Today, it’s red with elephants running down the sides. Her earrings have the same pattern, even though they’re shaped like giraffes.

“Look who’s here!” She flashes a bright smile to everyone in the room, a clipboard tucked under her armpit. “How are you doing, Simone? What’s up?”

She settles herself down on the rolling doctor’s chair, which I used to zoom around on when I was ten and got pneumonia. It was super fun, until Pops found me and started freaking out.

“Just school,” I say, shrugging. “Trying to survive when I’m there, and do nothing when I’m not.”

“She’s not doing nothing,” Pops corrects me.

“I’m not helping orphans with AIDS in India or anything cool like that,” I say, glancing at her.

She scrunches up her mouth. “Not everyone has to join the Peace Corps,” she says, tapping her pen against the clipboard. “There are plenty of ways to make a difference.”

I shrug again.

“Have you been taking your medication?”

“Yup.” I pop the p. “I’d get in trouble if I didn’t.”

She might be thinking about the time I did exactly that. Judging by the look on his face, Pops definitely is. In my defense, I only stopped taking my meds because the liquid stuff was so nasty and I couldn’t swallow pills yet. The doctors said I was only getting half of the amount of medication I needed by the time I got pneumonia. Such a little rebel.

“Okay, so your CD4 count is at almost 1,000,” she says, glancing over at my parents. “We remember that the CD4 is a measure of the immune system’s health, yes?”

“That’s really good,” I say, actually surprising myself.

“It is,” she says. “That’s totally normal even for someone without HIV, so I’m thrilled with that number. And your viral load is undetectable.”

It’s the first time it’s been undetectable on this combination of drugs. Pops claps his hands together like I’ve scored a goal. Dr. Khan smiles.

“But it’s important that you keep taking your medication. Your count will go down if you don’t.”

“I know.”