a dance with cancer

four

Asher Mendez 

Dean McCoy stands on the stage in front of us, a projection screen casting his shadow over my entire junior class. "Good morning, Juniors." His greeting signals the start of what promises to be a waste of my time.

A collective "good morning" from my peers echoes through the auditorium. The monotony in their voices mirrors my not wanting to sit through this meeting. I look around at the few vacant seats throughout the auditorium and say a prayer for those students, knowing they'll get pulled out of class within the next few days.

"Thank you all for being here." When he starts going over respectful assembly behavior, I space out. I've heard this spiel enough times it's almost as bad as the most popular song the year my parents were born. 

In the seat next to me, Knox Edwards is barely paying attention."This is an hour we can't get back."

"You better not fall asleep. McCoy has eyes everywhere." I whisper, not wanting to get chewed out by a teacher. 

He checks his phone, probably waiting for his girlfriend from a different school to snap him. "To be fair, I wasn't planning on it."

"As you know, our school prides itself on our community service. You all are privileged to be here. Giving back is a way to acknowledge what you have been given and use it to benefit someone else," he says, checking the audience to ensure we're paying attention. "You will participate in mandatory community service at St. Gabriel's Children's Hospital starting this afternoon."

When we realize we don't have a choice, a groan fills the room. Unfazed by the fact we clearly don't want to be here, he continues his spiel. "St. Gabriel's is one of the best children's hospitals in the state. It has a reputation for its stellar technology, but its kind-hearted medical staff attracts patients from all over." 

Thanks to my mom's job as a well respected pediatric oncologist, I'm no stranger to St. Gabriel's excellent quality of care. Every time I go, whether it's joining my mom while she helps save lives or befriending the young and optimistic patients, it's like returning home. Mary, the midwife who helped bring me into this world sixteen years ago, always revels in the young man I'm becoming. 

"Each junior will be partnered with a patient. You are required to come to the tour of the hospital after school, in addition to at least four visits with your patient on your own time."

Knox elbows me in the side. "This has Asher Mendez written all over it."

"Fuck you." I consider myself a stubborn and self-sufficient person, but it's no secret I have a huge soft spot for kids. At family functions, random people hand me their babies when they want to get drunk. Almost every time, I succeed at making the child not want to leave my presence. 

"Your parents will receive an e-mail with all of the details following the conclusion of this meeting." Dean McCoy says. "If you have extenuating circumstances that will prevent you from attending the tour, please come find me so we can discuss what you can do. Also, if you have questions, don't hesitate to ask me or one of your teachers." 

The assembly sparks the many complaints my classmates have about their mandatory community service. A few of my peers drive Hellcats, Jaguars, and Teslas every day yet they can't carve out five days of their schedule to spend time with a child whose concerns are more pressing than the price tag on their parents' car. It's a reminder of the privileged bubble we live in. 

When I walk into my English class, the complaining doesn't stop. Unfortunately Knox isn't in this class with me, but there's a good population of my teammates from basketball and baseball I usually sit with. 

"Mendez, how do you feel about McCoy's presentation?" Sawyer Long asks. Sawyer and I go way back. We met when his family moved across the street from me and the rest is history. Fast forward twelve years and we're still good friends. Our moms work together at St. G's, but he doesn't have the same connection I do to the hospital's staff.