All of the Stars

Chapter One

THERE'S NOT SO MUCH irony when osteosarcoma decides to check out the almost-star-athlete at one of his basketball games. It's the last quarter with only four minutes left on the clock and he's standing on the foul line hoping the ball goes through the basket. It does, and he's more than elated as he watches the scoreboard break the tie by another point  .

       His dad gives him a thumbs-up as he jogs to the opponent's side to steal the ball. Jason Whittefield passes him the ball and he runs as fast as he can with the time remaining on the clock.

        Osteosarcoma decides he likes this guy—well built, quite the athlete, and a possible candidate in the looks department: the perfect target—and gets up to leave the gym. There's a sudden sharp pain at the back of the almost-star-athlete's leg, and then his head, and soon every inch of his body. It was as if he was being stabbed in the guts, and the knife is twisted, pushed further and pulled out to stab another part of him. He screams—a kind of blood-curdling scream—loud enough to make the entire crowd look his way. He falls, clutching his arms as he lies on his side. His head throbs and he can hear the referee blow the whistle and the shot clock's blaring buzzer piercing his ears. Everyone's asking him if he's okay because he just fell; nobody pushed him, he just fell. The last thing he hears is "Gus, Gus, Gus, damn it, Augustus. Get up, Gus. Get up, please please please."

        It's the last basketball game he plays (he doesn't know if he should actually be happy about it, he doesn't really like basketball). It's cancer, they say a few months later, the reason for the pain in his bones. We're going to have to amputate his leg. We're very sorry, Mr and Mrs Waters.

        Okay, so maybe there's a lot of irony in this situation.

☆

        It was late in the winter that year when Isaac decided I was out of mind. He refused to believe that someone would agree to Cancer Support Group so easily—let alone his best friend. So we made an agreement. I was to save the fictional schoolchildren in the pixelated world of Counterinsurgence 2: The Price of Dawn, and if I would not succeed, I would at least "still have my dignity after Support Group" as Isaac had put it.

         To be completely honest, it didn't sound as bad as he was telling it to be. I failed my mission (but that definitely does not change the fact that Sergeant Max Mayhem is the greatest character of all time), and found myself in what was called the Literal Heart of Jesus.

        "Why can't we just take the elevator?" I asked, pointing to the awaiting lift.

        Isaac groaned. "It's a Last Days kind of thing," he waved me off, silencing me with his sighs. The vibe I got from Isaac the moment we went through the doors made it seem like he would rather be anywhere else than Support Group.

        Going up and down staircases were still quite a challenge with old Prosty despite the amount of time I hadn't been dual-legged. But I certainly wasn't on my Last Days, so I held on to Isaac's shoulder, limping down the staircase only to later occupy the world's most uncomfortable elementary school chair. There were only about six unlucky people roaming the Literal Heart of Jesus. And then she came in: Caroline Mathers.

        I didn't know if Isaac was right about me losing my mind, but the second glance I took was enough to convince me that I was only partially out of my mind. The girl went straight to the snack table pushed against the wall, grabbed a cookie and poured lemonade into a Dixie cup, as if this was all a routine. It was the expression on her face once she saw me staring that had me even more captivated—surprised and in the process of being mortified. She looked away the moment it had registered in her brain that we were, in fact, making eye contact.