Free Positively Beautiful by Wendy Mills

why not. She’s in a lot of pain, and you can tell she’s just waiting to find out what happens next, that she can’t think about anything else until she knows. It’s been ten days, and all we’ve been doing is
waiting.
And she wants me to go to school and act like everything is A-OK.”
    He’s looking at me now but the ball is still going up and down with a soft
thwack
,
thwack
,
thwack.
I stare at it for a minute and keep talking, barely aware of what I’m saying.
    â€œShe doesn’t want me to help her, you know, to thebathroom, or change her tube thingy that’s draining all this yellow gunk from her chest. Then she starts crying, she’s in so much pain. I can tell she wants to be strong for me, but she hurts so bad she can’t help herself. Maybe she doesn’t want me home during the day. Maybe it’s so hard to be strong for me that I’m making it harder for her. Or maybe she
needs
me there so she can be strong. I don’t know. Either way I know I have to be strong for her but I’m not sure how long I can be and I can’t stand this
waiting.
”
    I’m breathing hard and I can feel him looking at me.
    â€œAnd I know I shouldn’t be thinking about this right now, but I can’t get it out of my head that I might have this gene mutation like she’s got and soon it’ll be my turn to be going through all this. I think of the
waiting
I’ll have to do until I finally get cancer and I’m not sure I can take it. I don’t even know if I have the mutation or not, but all this not-knowing is about to drive me insane. I want to scream and scream and scream.”
    â€œWhy don’t you?” Mr. Jarad says. “Go somewhere where no one can hear you and scream to your heart’s content.”
    â€œWhat is this, primal therapy? I can’t go somewhere and scream. People would think I’m crazy.
I
would think I’m crazy.”
    He shrugs.
Thwack, thwack, thwack.
    â€œI found a website where I can do a BRCA test online and no one would know about it. You’re
supposed
to go talk to a genetic counselor and Mom said I could go if I want to, but I know they’ll just tell me not to think about it and wait untilI’m older. That’s what everybody has been saying. Do they really think I can
not
think about it? Really? Maybe some people can, but not me. It’s
all
I can think about. And, really, I’m still not sure whether I even
want
to know, and it feels stupid and selfish for me to be thinking about all this when my mom can barely pee by herself and she needs me so much. I’m just so afraid …”
    Mr. Jarad looks at me. “What are you afraid of?”
    â€œHuh?” I glare at him, but he’s not being sarcastic. “What do you think? I’m afraid my mom is going to die.” My breath hitches just saying it. “Okay, I’m not always the best daughter, I forget to pick up my stuff and sometimes I’m bitchy to her, but … I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her too.”
    He’s quiet while I concentrate on
not
crying. And then I do, and he hands me a tissue.
    â€œErin, when you’re feeling like this,” he says, “you need to be careful with yourself. Teens in your position have a tendency to engage in risk-taking behavior, like drinking and driving, and drugs. Here’s my tip for the day: go somewhere and scream instead.”

    I ditch school after my session with Mr. Jarad. I don’t really mean to. I tell Ms. Brown, the front office secretary, I forgot my trig homework in my car and she looks at me all pity-eyed.
    â€œOh dear,” she says, her words fluttery. Ms. Brown is not that old, but everything about her shakes and quivers, from herflyaway hair to her trembling hands and voice. “I’m
so
sorry about your mother. We’ve let your teachers know, and please feel free to come talk to Mr. Jarad whenever you