I go into the kitchen to get a carton of milk and some glasses, set them on the table. “Here’s how great it was being an only child,” I say. “I used to cut children out of magazines to be my brothers and sisters. I taped them up on my bedroom wall. My mother would yell about tape on the walls and take them down. Then I’d cut out some more.”

“I pretended a frog was my brother,” Chip says. “His name was Sherman. I kept him in a cardboard box in a corner of my room with a screen over it. When I did my homework, I put him on the desk and held him down to keep him from hopping off.”

“You never told me about him,” Diann says, laughing.

“Oh, sure,” Chip says. “When you have brothers and sisters, your fantasy is to be an only child. When you’re an only child, your fantasy is to have brothers and sisters.”

“I guess I didn’t really want to be an only child,” Diann says. “I liked playing with my sisters, and I loved my little brother. Although I was often terrible to him. Last time I saw him, he reminded me of the time I—”

Chip stands suddenly, then heads for the downstairs bathroom. We hear the sounds of him vomiting. Diann looks at me, wide-eyed. “It’s all right,” I say. “I’ll take care of it.” I go to stand outside the door, hear the toilet flush, the tap water run. When he opens the door, I say quietly, “You okay?”

He laughs, embarrassed. “I just … it all of a sudden came on! I mean, I didn’t even feel sick!” I nod, not wanting him to ask me if this is because of the cancer. “Guess I ate too many brownies,” he says, and I can tell from the way he is not quite looking at me that he knows it’s not that.

* * *

The next morning, I call Dr. Samuelson to let him know about Chip’s vomiting. He increases the dose of steroids. I make the change in the chart, then call Chip’s parents to let them know. His mother answers the phone. When I tell her there’ll be a change in medication, she asks why. When I explain, she says, “That’s it. He’s doing too much. He needs to stay here. I just can’t have him wearing himself out this way.”

I say nothing.

“Miss Lipinski?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“You all seem to think this is some kind of game.”

“No, I—”