Crash Into Me | ✓

fourteen

The last two weeks went by in a haze. When Brooklyn and I weren't hanging out (or making out in his Mustang), we talked from sun up to sun down, about everything and nothing at the same time. We danced around his kitchen to old 80s music and laughed as we kissed each other. It was all so surreal in fact, that I was starting to wonder if I dreamt the whole thing. I knew I wasn't dreaming though, because every time we kissed, the taste of him lingered on me for far too long afterwards. I felt like I had some semblance of a life, and it invigorated me.

A deafening scream coming from Nikki's room knocked me off of my cloud. I jumped out of bed and went scrambling down the hall to my sister's room. My heart was in my throat, my hands trembling as I slowly pushed Nikki's door open.

"Nikki?" I called. Clothes and shoes were strewn everywhere.

"Fuck," another scream came from Nikki's bathroom.

"Nikki what's wrong?" I asked, weaving my way across the room.

Nikki hovered over her sink, her shoulders heaving up and down as strained breaths came from her tiny frame. My eyes widened when I saw chunks of golden locks splayed all over the sink. She turned to face me, her eyes puffy and red as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She had more hair clenched between her fingers.

"Look at this shit!" She cried again, gasping and heaving in between words. She collapsed onto the plush pink rug, her wails echoing off of the walls.

I crouched down and pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling her tremble underneath my arms. I saw small patches of scalp peek through strands of blonde. Tiny little pieces fell into my lap every time Nikki shook her head.

A lump formed in my throat as I struggled to find the words to say. I'm sorry and it'll be okay didn't seem like enough. It was like one more nail in the coffin. The ultimate, undesirable trademark of any cancer patient.

I didn't know how long we sat huddled on the floor of Nikki's bathroom, but I saw her room start to darken as the sun set and dusk sent rays of moonlight through her bedroom windows.

"We need to do something about this," I said in a hushed tone. Nikki shook her head and buried her face in my shoulder.

"No," she wailed. "No! I'm not ready."

I shook my head as I untangled myself from Nikki's grip. I padded down the hallway to the guest bathroom and fumbled through the medicine cabinet until I found what I was looking for.

Nikki's eyes widened as I returned to her bathroom and plugged the buzzer into an outlet by the sink.

"We are not shaving my head!" Nikki whined. The few moments without tears were gone, and more came spilling from Nikki's bloodshot eyes like a waterfall.

"So you're just going to walk around with straggly chunks of hair and tiny bald spots everywhere?" I asked. "You'll start looking like that Cynthia doll that Angelica from Rugrats used to carry around."

"Cynthia was a hot bitch, okay? Don't be a hater." Nikki huffed and crossed her arms.

I chuckled as I positioned her so that her back was against the sink, and whatever hair she had left spilled into the basin. I gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"I promise, we will get you plenty of cute hats and wigs," I reassured her.

Nikki sniffed. "I want pink hair." She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. "Not like hot pink because that's tacky, but like pastel pink."