Free Wake by Abria Mattina

serving of soup. I wonder what it tastes like to someone with a strong stomach and functional taste buds.
    “So are you ever going to tell me what kind of cancer you had?”
    “Some other time.” For once, Willa leaves it without prodding.
     

Tuesday
     
    We have a work period for the term project in Social Studies, but nerdy Willa has ensured that we’re ahead of the game, so there’s not much work for us to do. We fill the time by playing X’s and O’s on her notebook cover. Her gloves are yellow today.
    “Do you ever take those off?”
    “Sure,” she says, and leaves it at that. “Are you eighteen yet?”
    “Yeah. You?”
    Willa asks me for my birth date—January tenth—and rolls her eyes at my answer. “What?”
    “We share a birthday.” I’m too competitive to let that slide, so I question her until we determine that I’m actually six hours older than she is. And I’ll never let her forget it.
    “So how old is your brother?”
    “Damn it,” she says as I win another tic-tac-toe match. “He’s twenty-five.”
    “Is he a step-brother or were you an accident?”
    “Shut up. At least I don’t have Middle Child Syndrome.” Willa gives me the eye.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “How old are your siblings, anyway?”
    I’m not happy about having my question dismissed, but settle for coming back to it later. “Eric is nineteen; doing a victory lap because he couldn’t decide about university. Elise will be seventeen soon.”
    “So did she cut her hair short like that or did she have cancer too?”
    “No, she shaved her head to raise funds for cancer research.”
    “What kind of research?”
    “Research for a cure. Duh.”
    “No, what kind of cancer?”
    “Kirk,” I scold her. She wins her first match. The score is still ten to one in my favor.
    “Do you have any hair at all under that hat?”
    “Inappropriate question.”
    “Did you shave it before treatment? Or did you wait for it to dry out and fall away on its own?”
    “Jesus, Kirk.”
    “Am I being too forthright?”
    “Nosey is what it is.”
    “My sister had me shave her head,” Willa says with a fond smile. “She had long, thick black hair. Barely even waited for it to thin; just invited me into the bathroom and handed me a razor.”
    “Creepy.”
    “Nah.” Willa shakes her head. “She was still beautiful.”
     

Wednesday
     
    I’m washing the supper dishes with Eric when Mom comes into the kitchen with the cordless phone in her hand. She looks at me like she’s seriously concerned and says, “The phone is for you.”
    “Who is it?”
    “It’s a girl .” Again, it’s good to know Mom has faith in me. Eric sniggers at her surprise. I dry my hands and take the phone into the other room.
    “Hello?”
    “Hey. How’s my partner?”
    “Fine. Why are you calling?”
    “We need to set a time to work on phase two of the term project. You told your mom you chose her snapdragons, right? She isn’t going to catch us digging up her plants and freak out?”
    “Yeah, I told her.” I should really tell her.
    “You free Saturday?”
    “No, Kirk, my weekends are fully booked.”
    “Two o’clock?”
    “Make it two-thirty.”
    “Address?”
     

Thursday
     
    When I walk into the cafeteria the first thing I notice is that Elise’s usual group of friends are huddled near the food line, giggling and whispering conspiratorially. What the hell? I look around for Elise and find her at the usual table, talking to a senior. It’s the guy she’s been crushing on—the one who called her a lesbian and made her cry. He’d better be apologizing.
    Elise’s friends practically hiss at me not to interrupt as I make my way over. I want to hear what this jackass has to say. Then I hear Elise giggle and realize they’re having a pleasant conversation.
    “Hey.” I pull out a chair and sit across from her. Elise gives me a not-so-subtle ‘go away’ signal. Nice try.
    “Well, I should get going,” he says. He