Carved in Her Bones

Rhian

Tomas and I have established quite the routine now.

I practice in the morning until noon, then drive Gigi to her book club. After that, I go to the hospital. I sit with Joey while he's doing chemo, keeping him company until he falls asleep. Then, I leave his side and go to Tomas.

We talk. We listen to music. Sometimes, we walk down to the cafeteria for drinks. I don't have to leave when he gets his meds anymore. He's not on chemo now—he's in some kind of trial. It seems to be working. But he refuses to be hopeful.

I've met Pia. She's lovely. Funny. I leave when she comes, to give them privacy.

I go read.

And when she leaves, Tomas comes to find me, and we talk some more.

I like this routine. And most importantly, my mom doesn't mind it.

It's Friday afternoon.

Joey is asleep when I walk over to Tomas's room, but as I approach, I hear raised voices. Fighting.

It's Pia and Tomas.

"But Tomas, you can't just give up on us! On our history—just like that!"

Silence. Then Tomas speaks, his voice low. "I'm sorry, Pia. I know we had plans. And I love you, I really do. I just... I can't be with you anymore."

Pia's voice cracks. "Is it because of the new girl? Joey's sister?"

My stomach twists. Joey's sister. That's all I am.

"No," Tomas says quickly. "Come on, she's seventeen. Pia, we're friends. Just friends."

Pia starts to cry.

And something inside me cracks.

I don't even know why I feel this hurt. I should've known better, but I had hoped—had entertained the idea that maybe he could see me as more.

But I was seventeen. He had said it like the mere thought of being attached to me in any way was disgusting.

My chest tightens.

I turn and rush down the hall, nearly blinded by the tears spilling over.

I almost collide with a girl as I stumble into the cafeteria.She has pale blue hair and a standing IV drip trailing beside her.She stops in front of me.

"Sorry," I mutter.

She nods. Then, after a moment, she tilts her head. "Hey. You okay?"

I nod.

She keeps looking at me.

And I shake my head. No.

Without hesitation, she wraps her arms around me.

She's freezing against my skin, but I don't pull away.

Once I'm done dry-heaving the heartbreak out of my system, I tell this stranger everything.

She listens, expressionless.

Then she says, "Well, boys suck sometimes."

I laugh—an actual, genuine laugh.

"I'm Rhian."

"Blue," she says simply.

"Fitting," I respond.