Post doctor/
hospital
visit,
unresolved
fight with
the sisters,
and a math test
I had
completely forgotten
about,
my tics are
wreaking havoc
on my life.
I can hardly
walk
because my
entire body
is sore
from thrashing around and
my lungs
are exhausted
from all the
coughing
I've been doing
recently
and the new
inhaler
prescription
I've been given.
My head is
stuffy and my
attitude is
just as
unpleasant.
Some girl
asks me during lunch
if I am having
a seizure,
to which Cadence
retorts
that she should
mind her own
business.
The girl huffs
about just
trying to help
and turns away.

Retaking the
ACT
for the fourth time
is taking
its toll
on Cadence.
(She got a
29
last time.)
I want
to take her
away from this school
and go
buy her
something greasy
or super sweet,
but she wouldn't
eat it
now that
I've
been caught
and can't eat it
with her.
Plus,
I have
AP Government
in fifteen minutes.

It's then that
I realize
she never
answered my text
after the hospital.
I bring it up
and she apologizes,
saying she's
grounded from
her phone
and promises
I don't look
fat.
A little
on the chubbier side
maybe,
from all my
sneaky,
rebellious eating,
but not fat.
That's not my
main concern
right now.

It's straight up
not like
Cadence
at all
to get in trouble.

"Why?"
I frown,
concerned.

"My parents say
I need to spend
less time with
Trey
and more time
passing my
classes.
My grandmother
gave me the most
disappointed look
when she
overheard
I have a C.
It's not like
a C is
the end of
the world."
She goes silent,
picking at her
Barbecue "sandwich,"
courtesy of
the Bayview lunchroom.
It looks more like
barbeque-d cat barf
on whole wheat.

A C is not
shameful,
I agree,
but Cadence
has been
spending a lot of
her time
with Trey.
Not enough
to make me feel
second place,
but enough that
it's feasible
her grades are
slipping.

I question
why she's
not doing well
in school.
She's had
a 4.0
since I met her
in the fourth grade.
With all the
pressure
to keep her
scholarship,
I thought she'd
be earning A+'s.

It's clear she
doesn't want to talk
about it.

I take
her hand,
which wasn't
busy anyway,
since she's
for some reason
not devouring
the cat-barf,
and just
hold it.
She doesn't have
to tell me
if she doesn't
want to.
I'll be here
anyway.

Besides,
after
years of
waiting for
test results
to come back
and medical scans
to be over,
I'm a
certified expert
on waiting.
I should teach
a class
on it.