So I had this idea for a new story called (as you can see above) Understanding the Midnight Sun. I won't tell you what it's all about or spoil it, but this is really all I have so far. So lemme know what ya think! :)
Scene: The Tumor
Maggy's never been the prettiest child.
I know it and so does she. But she doesn't care. That's one of the things I love about my little sister. Appearances don't matter much to her. She'd rather have a good soul. Maggy sees beauty in deeds and intentions and small things. Once, she plucked a dandelion and held it up for me to see. It glimmered with dew in the sunlight.
"Look, Cope," she said.
"That's a weed, Maggy," I replied.
Her wide gray eyes flickered with confusion. "No," she disagreed. "It's not. Because look," Maggy puckered her lips and blew softly onto the dandelion. The feathery seeds quivered and floated away on the breeze.
"Fairies," said Maggy.
I looked down at her and smiled. "Fairies," I agreed.
She can always change the way others see things too. Now when I spy a dandelion, I no longer think weeds. I think: fairies.
Mom's taking Maggy to get her checkup today, so I have plans to hang out with Parker and Jackie. We decide to meet up at the Ashdown ice cream stand. It's a small white cart with a vibrant pink umbrella. Two cabinets on the side open, one filled with waffle cones, the other with plastic spoons and two sizes of white cups that say in swirly letting: Ashdown, AR's Finest.
The cart's owner is a short man with scruffy facial hair and a white hat and apron. Because I've been coming here so long, I don't even need to read him name tag to know that his name is Robert.
"Good day, Copeland Kennedy," Robert says cheerfully.
"Hey, Rob," I smile, unzipping my wallet.
"No Margaret today?"
I shake my head. "Doctor's appointment."
"Ah," Robert nods understandingly, slipping on a pair of plastic gloves. "Well, what flavor can I get you today?"
I order salted caramel in a waffle cone and pay Robert. I turn from the stand, licking the perfect swirl at the top. Suddenly, someone grabs my arms from behind. I startle, nearly dropping my ice cream on someone's perfectly white Converse.
"Easy, you," says Jackie, laughing. "It's just me."
Jackie has chin length dark hair with bangs that sweep across her forehead, crowning her pale face. Following not too far behind her is Parker. He gives me the typical charming smile as he pulls out his large camera.
"Smile, you two," he says, holding it up to take a picture. Jackie folds her arm around my shoulder and attempts to steal my ice cream. Parker snaps the photo right as my eyes widen and we're both laughing. He grins. "Perfect."
Where most high school boys would want to be sports stars when they grow up, Parker destroys your typical stereotype. Sure, he's built like an athlete and has brown hair that never does much more than grow shaggy, but he doesn't care much for athletics, much to his dad's disappointment.
Jackie and Parker walk toward the ice cream cart.
"Robbie!" says Parker. "How are ya, man?"
Robert groans. "What'll it take for you to refrain from calling me Robbie?"
"What's wrong with Robbie? It's a good, solid name."
Robert eyes him suspiciously. "Answer the question."
Parker thinks for a moment. "Free ice cream for the remainder of my pathetic life?"
"Not even close."
"Fine. A year?"
"Next!" Robert calls loudly, looking towards Jackie.
"No, wait! I'll take rocky road in a cone. With extra TLC," Parker winks.
"Now that's just pushing it," warns Robert, throwing a plastic spoon at him. "But lucky you I do add something special in your ice cream, Parker Bennet."
"And what's that?"
"SLD," Robert says matter–of–factly, scooping a large helping of rocky road into a cone.
"SLD?" I repeat.
"Strong Loathing and Dislike."
Jackie slaps her hands on her knees and explodes into her hyena laughter which might be the most contagious thing. Soon, we both have to sit on a nearby bench because our sides are cramping. Parker shakes his head and sighs dramatically as he takes the cone from Robert. Robert musses Parker's hair, causing it to stick up more than it already was. Plopping down beside Jackie and me, he moodily licks his ice cream.
"Where's yours?" he asks Jackie.
"She on No Sugar Week, remember?" I remind him.
Jackie has a thing where every other week she goes sugar-free.
"Ugh, why would you do that?" Parker complains.
Jackie tugs on one of her bright red earrings. "Health is important."
"So is enjoyment."
It is the same argument Parker uses anytime that Jackie brings up her diets. She's tried multiple times to encourage me to try it—she hasn't even bothered to ask Parker—but I've only lasted a few hours. There's something so appealing about the idea of eating something you know you can't. Especially if it's sugary.
"We gotta do our Question," Jackie says.
Parker snaps his fingers. "That's right! Who's turn is it? Copeland?" he looks at me.
I crunch my ice cream cone and nod. Questions are a thing we did when we were all first getting to know each other, way back in fourth grade. We'd go in a circle asking one question every time we saw each other. Now I know Parker and Jackie better than anybody else—except maybe Maggy. Asking a Question every time we get together has become a routine. Though sometimes it can be hard to come up with a Question we've never asked before.
"Hmm," I finish off my ice cream cone and give my lips a satisfied lick. "If you had to color your hair a color—like, not a normal, natural color—for the rest of your life, what color would it be? And why?"
"You first, Jacqueline Spinner," Parker declares.
Jackie scowls at the use of her full name. "Okay, okay. Probably...navy. Like jeans navy. It goes with a lot."
I nod. "Parker?"
"Chartreuse," he answers. "You know, that obnoxious yellow-green color? It's underrated. Doesn't get enough appreciation."
"You're hopeless," I say.
"Whatever," Jackie laughs. "You choose the strangest things, Parker. What about you, Cope?"
"Green," I say. "Green like the stem of a dandelion. Because of Maggy."
Parker smiles. "How's old Mags anyways?"
"Good," I reply.
Jackie sighs wistfully. "I wish I had a younger sister." Jackie has five older brothers.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see a text from my mom.
Where are you???
I gulp. The multiple question marks could mean one of two things: either something's wrong or I am in trouble.
Most likely the latter.
Out w/ J and P, I text back. I send the ice cream emoji. 🍦
Well come home ASAP, Mom replies.
I frown. Parker and Jackie both turn to look at me as I get up from the bench.
"Where you going?" Jackie asks.
"My mom wants me home," I explain, shrugging.
"Need a ride?" Parker volunteers.
"Nah," I shake my head. "I can walk."
We say goodbye with promises to text later (if I am not grounded) and I wave to Robert before I start to walk home. It's only about a ten minute walk, but I'm pretty sweaty by the time I get home. Standing on the threshold, I pull my damp blond hair into a ponytail before I step inside.
Mom and Maggy sit on the living room sofa, both of them have tears sparkling in their identical gray eyes.
I drop my wallet onto the coffee table cautiously and slide my feet out of my flip-flops. "What's going on?"
"Emma," my mom says quietly. "Good. You're here."
I don't even remind her that I've started going by my middle name instead of my first. I try to catch Maggy's eye, but she stares at her trembling hands.
"Mom?" I ask timidly. "Mag?"
"Copeland," Maggy whispers. I've never seen her like this. Shaking, terrified, miserable.
"What?" I asl again.
"Come sit," Mom instructs. I obey. I plunk down beside Maggy.
"I took Margaret to see the doctor today, as you know," Mom begins, her voice wobbly. She smooths her blond hair back, trying to be professional and strong.
I nod.
"And they noticed something...abnormal."
I swallow.
"Margaret," Mom says gently.
Maggy finally meets my eyes. She throws her arms around me. A little surprised, I hug her back fiercely. Her little body feels frail in my arms and it shakes. My t-shirt is wet from her tears.
Maggy never cries. But this...this isn't even crying. This is full out sobbing. Distraught, painful sounding tears.
"I've got a brain humor, Cope!" she wails into my shirt.
A brain humor? It takes me a moment to process. But then I look into Mom's eyes. I see the brokenness reflected in there.
And I realize. Maggy misspoke.
She meant brain tumor.
I squeeze her little body so tight I worry that I might break her. But I'm shaking. I'm shaking and I don't know how to stop. I brush my fingers though her dirty blond tangles.
"Hey," I whispers hoarsely. "Hey. You can get help for that, okay?"
"No!" she screams. "No! Mama tell her! Oh, Copeland, Copeland!" her sobs turn into little screams of pain-mental or physical, I can't tell.
Mom looks like she might succumb to the agony that has plagued my sister.
"The tumor is...large. Very large," Mom explains helplessly. "There's nothing they can do. They gave Margaret four months."
Four months. Four months. So many things can happen in four months, but also not enough.
Four months go by too quick.
"WHAT?" I pull back from my sister and hold her at arms length. Her eyes pool with tears.
"C-Copeland," she stutters.
Mom stands up soundlessly and leaves, needing time to herself.
"Listen to me, Mag," I say, choking on my tears. It feels like a giant hole is ripping through my chest. I smooth strands of her hair back and tuck it behind her ears. She wipes away a trail of tears with the back of her shaking hand.
"I'm listening," she whispers.
"You're gonna be okay. Do you understand me? Do you understand me?"
"Copeland," she says again. And she leans her forehead against my collarbone, crying. Eventually, she cries herself to sleep and I lean her against the pillows. I lay beside her and wonder how many breaths can happen in four months.
Evidently, not enough.
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