The Ways We Change

The metal of the locker scrapes my beaten back. My legs go out from under me as I fall to the ground. My long broken glasses stood in 3 pieces, shattered on the ground. Blood and sweat dripped down from my forehead. Maxwell was at the center of it all, beating and kicking me to a pulp. The other kids laughed at my worn face, now covered in bruises. Teachers helplessly tried to stop the situation, but it was too late. I was already gone. The last thing I remember from that day was seeing Charlotte, at the edge of the crowd.

Crying my tears.

The heart monitor beeped as my eyes opened to a blinding light. Sutures were strewn across my forehead and an IV drip stuck out from my arm. Mom was there, too. And so was TJ. Both of them were asleep on the couch, bags under their eyes. It looked like they had been there for a while; there were fast food bags and the room smelled of meat. I rubbed my fingers against the black stitches and sighed. The warm blanket and my family were the only ones who welcomed me now. Ever since I was framed, people treat me like I'm the devil himself. Charlotte was the only one who was left that believed me, and even then, when I was beaten, she cried for me. With me. A doctor opened the door to my room and came to update my chart. He had test results in his hands, and he looked worried. I sat up quickly, but he quickly put my head back on the pillow and mouthed, "Just lay down, OK?" I obeyed and let him take my blood pressure with the cold metal cuff. Mom woke up too and began to throw away the garbage. My doctor gave her a dirty but sympathetic glare as she tossed the bags into the garbage. Satisfied, he set down the chart and took off his glasses. He stuck them in the pocket of his scrubs and motioned for Mom to sit down.

"Mrs. Campbell..." he started. "I'm afraid we have some... not so great news." The doctor moved closer and whispered into my mom's ear for about twenty seconds, so I wasn't supposed to hear it. Her face went pale. The clock ticked as she got up and began to pace the room. The doctor sat and watched her reaction. All of a sudden, she threw her arms out at him. He accepted her embrace and she cried. And cried. I myself was beginning to feel melancholy when she got up and walked towards me.

"Honey, I'm so...so...sorry." she choked. Her warm hands met mine.

"What is it, Mom?" I groggily asked. She looked at the doctor for an answer. He stepped forwards and said the six words that changed my life forever.

"Son, I'm afraid you have cancer."

My best friend was over that very next day. Mom told TJ to put on his happy face. Little T didn't know yet. Mom said that it was better that way. When the doorbell finally rang, Mom put on a guise of happiness and greeted Matt at the door. He happily responded and walked in the door. I watched warily from the stairs as he kicked off his shoes and walked up to me.

"You ok, man?" he asked. I nodded my head and we both headed towards my bedroom.

Settled on my giant beanbag, we ate chips and played a couple different video games. He was always the better one at these things: that's just who he was. He was good at everything and wasn't a sore loser when he lost, either. He was basically the perfect guy. But it's ironic because he can't seem to pick up any dates or girls, for that matter. We got to Minecraft before I mustered up the courage. I paused the game and he looked at me, questioning.

"Why did you..." he started, but he stopped. He read my expression and his ears perked up.

"I... I have cancer." I whispered. His eyes widened deeply in sorrow as the waterworks began to flow. He dropped his controller with a loud bang as he smothered me, in his attempt at a hug. I let him lay there, bawling.

After a while, he got up and wiped his eyes, and went to go get a tissue. My thinning hair stared back at me in the mirror as I peered into my lifeless eyes. I looked like I was ready to give up. With some strength, I bulged my veins.

But I saw no life left. No fight left at all.

My hair is gone now. But there's a silver lining to that: I don't get hot anymore. I learned what silver lining meant today on my computer. I realized that to get some of my fight back, I needed to look on the positive side. Even with cancer in me, I could still become an optimist.

One morning, I walked into school. It was nothing out of the ordinary. I checked in, watched as people stared at my bald head, and went to Social Studies. Things didn't become unusual until lunchtime. Charlotte approached me just as I finished my dessert. Her eyes looked hurt, so I asked her a question.

"Are you ok?" She looked at me and dragged me out to the hallway, with applause coming from the lunchroom.

"How could you not tell me?" she shouted once we were out of the room. I spoke helplessly as her grip on my arm tightened.

"Please, Adam, I need an answer!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. I hugged her and also let her cry. This time, I cried along with her. For her. For me. She wrapped her arms tighter around me as we stood hugging, for a long time. She sniffed as we broke off, both warm from a mutual connection. Her head moved against my chest.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I shouldn't have done that. I know how bad it is."

"I should have told you. It is my fault." I apologized. My stomach fluttered as I kissed her head. My feelings came out like a rebirthed phoenix: bright and colorfully. She lifted up her head and kissed my lips, pouring every ounce of her fight into me. I gave her my being in return.

Then Pablo, the janitor, turned the corner.

"Hey, Ad- OOOH." he flinched. I jumped and broke off the kiss, laughing. Charlotte began cracking up as Pablo turned the corner again.

"I was going to clean the bathrooms, but maybe I should wait?" he smiled. I looked at Charlotte one last time.

"Nah, we'll move," I concluded.

And just like that, I felt what I hadn't in a long time. Hope.

Three surgeries and 1 transplant later, I'm sitting back at lunch. With other people, of course. Matt's still there, as he always was. Then there's Nick, one of the other kids who used to get bullied often. Charlotte's there too, and so is one of my old bullies! He felt bad so he decided to befriend me. God's work at play, I guess. Every other day, Pablo will come by the table, going to go clean the kitchen. He flashes me a wink every time, too, and everyone else gives me and Charlotte looks as we both blush profusely. But every day, I smile over what I've accomplished. I went from somebody who was at the lowest of the low and ready to give up to an optimistic extrovert with friends who also truly believe in themselves.

Oh, the ways we change.