I’m taking that as a yes. Expect some Cardi B. Wait, you won’t be able to hear me. Shit. Damn it, Andre. Always so f’ing selfish.

Before I can text back the perfect response, Mom knocks on the passenger’s side window, waving at me.

“Dad says you’re hungry. I made your favorite.”

Every time I go to the hospital, Mom makes the same thing: chicken noodle tortilla soup. It’s her way of making up for not being able to come. Today, there’s also the scent of homemade brownies with pecans in the air.

My mother can’t bake worth shit, but now, thanks to a lie I told when I was six, this is what I have to deal with—her rock-hard brownies.

I trudge into the house, and just as I’m sitting, she says, “I threw in some protein powder too.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

She puts the bowl in front of me. “For your strength. You need your energy.”

“I agree, and you know how you get that? Sleep. Good food. Not—”

My phone chirps. An email from my school account. I fish out my phone and scan it. Seeing the subject line is enough to make my heart sink: RE: YOUR CLASS OF 2022 STATUS.

“Speaking of sleep, I think I’m just going to lie down for a bit,” I say. “I’m just tired, guys,” I quickly add, putting my hands up defensively. And I don’t have the stomach to push through consuming my mom’s brownies. “Long day. Being Black in America is taxing, you know.” As if they wouldn’t know.

The joke flies true, lodging itself in the chink in my parents’ overprotective armor. Dad scoffs, Mom rolls her eyes, and they both relax. I slip upstairs.

There’s nothing good in this email. I know it. Ever since being diagnosed, life at St. Clements has been hell. Not socially. Academically. The school has rigorous standards, and missing classes because of, you know, cancer doesn’t seem to be an acceptable reason to take classes remotely.

Once my door is closed (and locked), I lean against the wall, reading the email from my guidance counselor as quickly as possible.

Dear Andre,

I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to let you know that I talked to Headmistress Welchbacher, and I did my best. You won’t be able to graduate with the class of 2022 unless you take the summer school classes listed below.

Please note that even if you receive a passing grade for these classes, you will not be eligible for salutatorian, as calculus, world history, and fiction writing are being offered through a community college. I have arranged a meeting with the headmistress for this upcoming Monday at 9:45 a.m. Please let me know if you’re not feeling up to it, and I’ll reschedule.

I hope you’re feeling better.

Ms. Harper

Guidance Counselor

St. Clements Academy