Where We Change

two

The next week, I found myself staring off into the distance during class. With each routine ring of the bell, I shuffled together the worksheets I neglected to complete, and waltzed to my next class. The teachers didn't care for my lack of effort. They just chose to ignore me. I almost think they felt sorry for me because I had cancer. Whoop-di-do. "Lillian. Lily! MRS. FAIRCHILD!!!" The infuriated croak nauseated my senses.

"I'm sorry...I was..."

"Not doing your work? Dreaming of boys and daisy fields?" I could slap the bitch dead on the ground.

Inhale deeply, Lil. Ah screw it. "Actually, I wasn't daydreaming about blowing my boyfriend," damn the surprise on her face, "I was ya know just worrying about the kemo I'm receiving later, about the hair I will loose, and the death that is soon to arrive on my doorstep. So pardon me if I am so rudely worrying about the importance of human life. If you have an issue with my concerns, you can fuck yourself." I could shove a dodgeball easily through the gap between her excuse for a set of lips.

Her comes her favorite line...bitch, "Well, while I'm 'fucking myself' as you say, you can find your way to the principals office, Mrs. Fairchild. I'm sure he'd love to participate in your pity party as well."

The alarming screech of a students chair forces my back to turn in search of the culprit, "That's not fair!"

"Mr. Ross find your seat immediately or you will be joining her!" She points, attempting to lower him into submission.

"I'd be glad to! God you people! Can't you see she's scared? She will probably die and you're yelling at her for daydreaming! It may be the last time she ever gets to think without being under the influence of a drug that will forever change you. Have a heart!"

The plump red head turns to me, "Mr. Johnny Ross will be joining you in the principals office." Her smirk sparks fury in the class. Everyone stands at once.

Martha Fields, an intelligent blonde adorned with her own pair of nerd glasses is among the group of rebels. She speaks, "Mrs. Grant, although we all respect you greatly, you have proved your lack of character and heart at the stand point you just prevailed. We all refuse to be taught how to think and what to know by someone who has so much evil." She would act like its a debate.

"Yeah, you cold-hearted bitch." My best friend, Brooklyn chimes in. I squeeze her hand in thankfulness.

"Very well then. An uprising is what you want, an uprising is what you'll get." She strides over to the yellow telephone clinging to the wall. The clank of her heels is the only noise to be heard. "Hi, yes? I would like to request Principal Newman in my classroom as my students have all decided to undermine my authority and path of punishment. Mhmmm...thank you very much. Also, I will have Miss Lily Fairchild in the hallway. He needs to have a private talking to before his assistance is required."

I can't help but to let all my anger skyrocket, I stand up slamming my fists into the desk, and then clenching the edges, forcing my knuckles to pale a ghostly shade of white, "FUCK YOU! I'm dropping out today anyway! SO WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU CAN ACTUALLY DO! All damn year all you've done is tell us how immature we are and how to find your power points on your website! YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY FULL OF SHIT! And you call yourself a doctor? My left thumb is smarter than your stupid ass! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! And this whole class would agree that you're the most selfish, arrogant, son of a..." I'm interrupted.

He coughs, "Are you finished Mrs. Fairchild?" I nod. "Then how about we get you started on those drop-out forms." I follow him out the door, but then I stop.

"Actually Principal Newman I'm not finished."

"Lillian..." he warns, leveling his eyes, but it's too late.

"...THE MOST SELFISH, ARROGANT SON OF A BITCH WE HAVE EVER HAD THE DEMISE OF MEETING IN OUT ENTIRE LIVES! WAS MY USE OF VOCABULARY UP TO YOUR STANDARDS?" I feel the heat flooding to my cheeks, pools of red appearing against my flamed flesh. A firm grip pulls me away from my applauding peers.

Mr. Newman's office is quaint, a large cherry desk sits dead center, and a green couch welcomes his unwanted guest, me. "Lily, I know these past couple of weeks have been difficult on you..."

"Difficult? Did you just say difficult? Difficult doesn't even begin to describe how it's been! Do you know what it's like to sit around, feeling like shit while you wait for something inevitable to kill you? No sir, difficult doesn't even to begin to describe it. Depressing, formidable, galling or painful is more like it."

His gaze falls, "I'm sorry if I neglected to sympathize with your distress, that wasn't my intention."

"Ya know what? I don't really care what this school does to me! Wait...what did you say?"

"I said I'm sorry?" My tongue licks at the dirt lining the floor. I'm in shock. Never in my four years of high school have I heard this man with the thoughts of a rock even consider apologizing. "My daughter was just like you. She had osteosarcoma. We tried everything kemo, genome sequencing, every medical fix you could think of. And eventually we did amputation, she cried for days. My little princess died a month later. We were too late. The cancer had already spread through all of her major organs."

I do feel bad for him, but I can't help but not see his point, "And?" He whips is head up, the stone cold look in his eye making me jump.

"I'm only trying to help you, Mrs. Fairchild. The reason I even called you in here was to discuss something with you off the record," Ok. "I highly advise that you remove your legs," No. "They have prosthetics that look just as real..."

I rise from the cushioning of the bench, "You may call me into your office when you find prosthetics that can allow me to play sports again. Call me then, Mr. Newman. See, you don't know me at all! Soccer is what I live for. It has helped me not die on the outside when I've been dying on the inside. I need it to keep me alive. I cannot beat this without it."

"I understand. My Johanna made the same point."

"I'm sorry. Thank you, but no thank you." His grin is returned.

Hours later, the soft stream of Boy Meets World is cut off when we arrive at the cancer institute. Here we go. I unlatch the seatbelt, and spill out of the car. I remove the crease in my simple, black skirt and begin my journey. The sign reads 'Where we change lives', and I can't help but stop and stare endlessly. 'lives' flickers in and out, and eventually turns from the gentle red to nothing. Now it's just 'Where we change'. I'm about to change forever. Aren't I?

An attractive male, with oddly colored flaxen and cinnamon streaked hair, holds the door open for me, revealing a pearly grin. I thank him and walk inside to find white walls. And more white walls. And even more white walls. I'm surrounded by white. White. White. My dad gestures down a (oh you guessed it) white hallway. I'm led into a surprising new change of scenery, the walls are now all shades of color, ranging from the lightest of greens to the hottest of pinks. A tan chair displays my name 'Lillian F.'. This is to be the chair I sit in for the next year puking my guts out.

The next thing I know, I'm lying back in the recliner, looking down as the nurse pushes the needle into my sheathing. It hurts, so I wince ever so slightly, clearing sparking her fear, "Are you okay?" Her squeak could have made me vomit for a year even without the kemo.

"Oh totally, ya know just sittin' here getting KEMO BECAUSE I'M DYING OF FUCKING CANCER." She goes off in a corner and cries. Aw poor baby, dumb bitch shouldn't have asked.

The last thing I see before I daze off into the hopes of my reality is the tigers above me, hunting in the jungle. They're moving, singing a song. I can't tell exactly what it is, but the tune is so familiar.

Only know you've been high, when you're feelin' low...only miss the sun when it starts to snow...