The F- It List Part 32

"Now I see. How could I have missed all the concern and love hid- den in those two little letters?" Becca started laughing, which started her coughing.

"You totally deserve that cough. The text wasn't that bad." I -1- scowled.

0- "You're right." She sipped from a cup near her bed, and her

1-

1 8 8.

105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 188 105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 188 4/17/13 8:58 PM.

4/17/13 8:58 PM.

cough eventually subsided. "You could have asked, 'How's your dead brother?' "

"If I'm that awful, why are you even friends with me?" I stood up, hurt by the coldness Becca implied.

"Hey, Alex, sorry. You don't usually seem to care about being a coldhearted b.i.t.c.h."

"Not making this better," I noted.

"That's where so much of your charm is, Alex. It's one of the reasons I love you. And probably why Leo does-" I glanced hard at her. "Did. Maybe. Well, he liked you at least, right?"

"I guess," I conceded.

Could he ever again? Was that what I wanted?

A text buzzed on my phone. Becca and I locked eyes. "Open it!"

she prodded.

It was a reply from Leo. One word.

Going "What the f.u.c.k does that mean? Was he planning on writing more and sent it by accident?" I shook my phone, willing it to spit out extra words.

"I think it means he's going," Becca suggested.

"He didn't say anything about seeing me."

"He didn't say anything about your thoughtful use of the word 'hi' either. Maybe he was in a hurry."

"Maybe he was in the middle of f.u.c.king some other girl." My brain went to a terrible place.

"Alex, I'm sure he wouldn't stop having s.e.x just to answer your text. And besides, the two of you were never just f.u.c.king."

"I don't feel any better," I admitted.

--1 "He bothered to write you back. That's something."

-0 -+1 1 8 9.

105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 189 105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 189 4/17/13 8:58 PM.

4/17/13 8:58 PM.

"You're reaching, Becca."

"Maybe. But what's wrong with that? If we don't reach for things, think of how much we'll miss."

Then Becca fell asleep.

Her words were generically profound, like a Hallmark card I'd skim over to get to the check. But they made sense, too. How far I was willing to reach for Leo, I just didn't know yet.

-1- 0-

1-

1 9 0.

105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 190 105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 190 4/17/13 8:58 PM.

4/17/13 8:58 PM.

CHAPTER.

31.

The week leading up to Dead of Winter Con, Becca was up and down. Radiation every morning at 6:30, then she pushed herself to go to school. She said she wanted to feel normal, which I got and I didn't.

She was hardly normal, with her fuzzy hair and extra- special treatment from everyone around her. But it had been months of bed rest, puke, and pajamas, making school a diversion. Wednesday I was supposed to drive her home, but she had to be picked up early by her mom. Becca fell asleep on her desk in French cla.s.s. Her teacher let her sleep the entire time. I was surprised at how kind everyone was to Becca. So many s.h.i.+tty things happen to so many people; somehow cancer is the thing that made other people change their behavior. Maybe it was that Becca's illness had been so visible; not only in her diminished physical appearance, but in the gaping hole of her absence, too. I quelled the bit of jealousy I had, trying not to remember how few people acknowl- edged my dad's death when I came back to school after the summer.

--1 Becca stayed home the rest of the week by order of her mom, -0 -+1 105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 191 105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 191 4/17/13 8:58 PM.

4/17/13 8:58 PM.

who gave her the choice of going to school or Dead of Winter Con.

She also off ered her a home visit from Rabbi Schulman, but Becca feigned a headache to get out of it. Her mom had been spending a h.e.l.l of a lot of time with Rabbi Schulman. Becca didn't mind, since it meant her mom was out of her (minuscule) hair and Caleb could homeschool Becca on all kinds of matters. It p.i.s.sed me off , though, that her mom would be gone so much. What if Becca were to die?

And her mom missed out on all of that time with her, just to ask G.o.d that she live? Nothing made sense.

Thursday afternoon, I received a text from Becca.

#22 completed Becca took a bath at someone else's house.

So you're breaking and entering, I texted.

Is that what we're calling it now? ;) Caleb's house has very small bathtubs, FYI.

I wanted to be happy for Becca, as jazzed about her s.e.xual exploits as she always was for mine. But did that mean my time with the list was over? That she didn't need me anymore? If she didn't, who did?

Try not to get stuck, I texted, and tried to laugh at the possibili- ties of misinterpretation. But nothing felt funny when I was laughing at it alone.

Friday morning, I made another f.u.c.k- It List attempt.

Today is #20.

You're dressed like a prost.i.tute?

-1- Yes.

0- How?

1-

1 92.

105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 192 105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 192 4/17/13 8:58 PM.

4/17/13 8:58 PM.

I'm wearing hoop earrings.

Wh.o.r.e.

At lunchtime, I wasn't in the mood for the ultra- vapid conversa- tion, so I took my hot pretzel and c.o.ke and snuck my way down the quiet halls.

Pulling my key ring out of my pocket, I gingerly inserted the key Leo had given me, my fi rst and only present from him. The door to the book closet clicked open, and I entered the forbidden s.p.a.ce.

It was a s.h.i.+thole.

The last time I had been there was after Leo's brother's funeral, and I had managed to nicely destroy any semblance of order the room held. I picked up the fi rst book my shoe hit.

Fahrenheit 451.

I reached over and placed it on a shelf.

One down, thirty trillion to go.

I worked this way through the lunch hour, then, upon hearing the bell ring and the hallway fi ll with students, decided to stay through art. Then calculus and history.

When the bell rang signaling the end of the day, I continued to work. I felt like Bastian, up in the attic of his school in The NeverEnd- ing Story. If only I had a sandwich to nibble on, so I could say to myself, "No. Not too much. We still have a long way to go... ."

The fl oor was cleared and the shelves fi lled around six o'clock. I felt not only a sense of accomplishment, but that somehow putting this room back together signifi ed something great. Not necessarily great meaning good; I wasn't optimistically there yet, but great in that there were possibilities. Even good ones. Which was new to me and scarier --1 than the prospect of living on top of an Indian burial ground.

-0 -+1 1 93.

105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 193 105-54406_ch01_1P.indd 193 4/17/13 8:58 PM.

4/17/13 8:58 PM.

CHAPTER.