Her Purpose | ✓

Chapter Four

I take a deep breath as Dad's car approaches the college. Normally I would have driven, but I hadn't even got into my car since before the diagnosis.

I wasn't sure why.

For a moment, I consider asking him to turn around and bring me back home. But I force the thought away. I can do this. I have to do this.

"You sure you're up for this, Beth?" Dad asks, his brow furrowed.

I nod, trying to look more confident than I feel. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'll be fine."

He doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't argue. "Alright. But if you need me to get you, call. Okay?"

"Okay," I agree, leaning over to hug him. "Thanks, Dad."

I climb out of the car, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. The campus looks the same as always — red brick buildings, neatly trimmed lawns, students milling about. It should feel normal. I want it to feel normal so badly.

But the moment I step through the gates, I can feel the change in the air. Everyone's holding their breath, waiting for me to do something. Explode, maybe. Or burst into tears. Or drop dead on the spot.

I keep my head down, ignoring the whispers that follow me like a toxic cloud. But it's impossible not to hear snippets of conversations as I enter the building and towards my locker.

"Is that her? The one with cancer?"

"God, she looks awful. Do you think she's in pain?"

"I heard she's only got a few months left."

Each word is like a knife twisting in my gut. I want to scream at them, to tell them I can hear every word. That I'm still me, I'm still Beth, not some exhibit in a freak show for them to gawk at.

But I don't. I just keep walking.

At my locker, I fumble with the combination, my hands shaking. It takes three tries before I finally open it. As I get books out, I hear a familiar voice behind me.

"Beth! Oh my god, I'm so glad you're here!"

I turn to see Sophia, a girl from my English class. We've never been close, but now she's looking at me like we're best friends. Her eyes are wide with pity and fascination that makes my skin crawl.

"Hi," I manage, trying to smile. It feels more like a grimace.

"How are you feeling?" she asks. "We've all been so worried about you."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. 'We've all been so worried.' Right. Because we talk so often.

"I'm fine," I say, the lie tasting bitter. "Just taking it day by day, you know?"

Sophia nods enthusiastically. "Of course, of course. You're so brave, Beth. I don't know how you do it."

I want to tell her that I'm not brave. That I'm terrified. Every morning, I wake up wondering if this will be the day the pain becomes unbearable, or my hair starts falling out, or I get so weak I can't even get out of bed.