Bea and I
are going to
bake our own
gingerbread houses
and decorate them.
I suspect
it will be a mess of
dough and
cheap frosting.

But I am excited
to tell Bea
I only have
to use
the cannula
after school now
(provided I don't
push myself
too hard).
She's elated
but secretly
jealous
because she's stuck
with hers
24/7.

We undercook
the gingerbread
and make half a
mutilated "house"
before
sticking the bread
back in the oven.
The second time,
it's on
the burnt side
because Jason
knocked over
the entire bottle
of sprinkles
and we were
distracted.
We both
have a coughing fit
standing in
the smoke when
we open
the oven for
the final time,
but she
moves on as if
it never happened,
while I am
cursing my lungs.
Bea's ability
to not care
at all that
her lungs are
constantly deteriorating
makes me jealous.

By the time
we are finally
sitting with our
questionable
gingerbread,
half the
gumdrops are in
Sam's stomach,
and Bea nearly
drops a hot
cookie sheet on
an open
tube of
frosting.

We decide
we are
walking disasters
and I think
we are a
disgrace to
Christmas,
but Bea
shrugs it all off
as if
we didn't almost
destroy
my mom's
kitchen.

Bea is
more creative
than me
(hence the
graffiti sticker papers
she sticks
around the hospital
after every
visit
but somehow
hasn't
gotten caught yet).
Her house has
Christmas lights
—which I think are
sliced
Mike and Ike's—,
a cute little
literally frosted
window
in the door,
and a pathway.
Mine is a
pile of
gingerbread
lumped together with
uneven chunks of
frosting
and
mismatched
Sour Patch Kids
standing around
a campfire,
which is
deemed to
look more like
a demon summoning.

Bea is the one
who tells me
that kid
Robby
who is
new enough
to Group that
I didn't
get to know him
enough before
I was kicked out,
died.
Naturally,
I assume
it's because of
his brain tumor,
but Bea says
it was
some sort of
accident,
completely unrelated
to the tumor.
I am sad
for his
life cut short
and his family,
but also
quietly glad that
we weren't
close enough
that it hurts
too terribly.

It's not
being able to
drive away from
this feeling
that hits me
the hardest.
While I
may have no
freedom;
Robby
no longer
has any
injustice
to fight against.