There was too much going on. People’s lives could end in a flash—and already had. I was seeing—and feeling—things that not even I completely believed. I wasn’t sure whether my headache was a lingering result of my concussion or the accumulation of so much pressure coming from so many directions. I didn’t even have homework yet.

Maggie’s mom came in and sat on the cushiony chair by the couch. She looked at us and smiled. The three of us had sat in these seats a hundred times over the years—I could quote almost every line from On the Waterfront, Maggie’s favorite movie—but tonight everything was different.

I wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on with Lee Marvin in this one. I’d promised Maggie I wouldn’t tell her mom about the cancer, but I wasn’t comfortable with this decision. If you think you have cancer, you tell a medical professional, period. Maggie’s mom was a medical professional. Maggie wouldn’t be able to research her way out of this one.

I kept glancing at her mom, thinking about what I knew that she didn’t, wishing I had a better idea of what to do.

Maggie’s plan was to wait until the road opened up and then go to a hospital for a mammogram. I suggested she go to the sick camp and the hospital there—where my mom and Charlie were—but Maggie said she’d talked to an army nurse who said that facility didn’t have a mammography machine. She said the nurse recommended waiting till she could get to the Canville hospital or the big medical center in Charleston. I said that may not be a very good nurse.

My brain was racing. Could we get Maggie to a doctor or lure a doctor to town? If we drove up to the roadblock and said we had a medical emergency, would the army really stop us? Could we at least mail her X-rays to a specialist somewhere? Was the mail going through?

In the meantime, there I was, sitting on the couch, enjoying the peach scent coming from Maggie’s hair and the soft warmth of her body and feeling terrified that now that we were together, she could be snatched away from me.

As the movie ended, Dr. Gooding pointed at the both of us together on the couch and said, “So, this is interesting.”

“It’s for our health, Mom,” Maggie said. “Remember that study in U.S. News and World Report that said hugging releases oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin? It helps with stress and lowers blood pressure.”

“Well,” her mom said, “then you two must be stress free.”

“Right,” Maggie said. “Like you and Bud Winkle.” She stuck her forefinger deep down her throat.

Dr. Gooding’s face darkened. “Well, that is not nice.”

“He called you my pretty mama.”

“Don’t you think I am?”

I could see Maggie trying to think of the right answer here. Her mother looked surprisingly vulnerable.

“Of course, Mom,” Maggie finally said.

I would’ve happily stayed on that couch with Maggie all night, but an idea had lodged itself in my head, and I couldn’t shake it.