The F- It List Part 23

4/17/13 8:57 PM.

"So sweet. Could he be any sweeter? I have to write him back."

A tinge of pink returned to Becca's cheeks.

We drafted a note to Caleb on some notebook paper. "Why don't you use your h.e.l.lo Kitty stationery?" I asked.

"Please. I want to exude an air of sophistication."

"Becca, you stripped for him in front of his window."

"In a sophisticated manner."

Becca thought it best to keep the note short and sweet.

Dear Caleb, Thank you so much for your thoughtful note.

I am home now with cancer, Hodgkin's lymphoma to be exact. Maybe one day when I'm feeling better we can get a cup of coffee. I would be interested in hearing what homeschooling is like. I'm still hoping to finish up my se nior year, so I can go to col ege.

Wil you go to col ege? I better go and rest now.

Fondly, Becca P.S. I would be glad to also give you a repeat performance when I'm better.

"I love how it goes from 'fondly' to 'I'll show you my t.i.ts again someday.' Promise!"

"Shut up and deliver the note, please."

"Do you have any wax you want me to seal it with? Some per- -1- fume to spray on it? A handkerchief?"

0- "Speedy delivery, Alex!"

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I opened up the window and screen.

"What can I throw to get his attention?" I asked.

"How about a jelly bean? Someone sent me a fi fty- fl avor box." I picked out a black Jelly Belly, the dreaded licorice fl avor, and threw it at Caleb's window. Within seconds, he appeared again. His shirt and face were moist with sweat, like he had been exercising. From the look of his body, I'm guessing he did that a lot.

I held up the folded paper, and he threw open his window and screen. We made the pa.s.s, he thanked me, and we closed up shop again.

I sat back on the bed. "Can I have some jelly beans?" I asked.

"Go for it. I puked a rainbow yesterday."

"They should put that in an ad."

We watched two episodes of Battlestar Galactica when Becca's mom called through the door, "Alex, you need to get going. Becca needs her rest."

"PT scan tomorrow," Becca told me as I shoved my shoes back on.

"Is that going to suck?" I asked.

"I hope not." She shuddered.

"Me, too."

"Since it probably will suck, you have to promise to do some- thing from the f.u.c.k- It List tomorrow and email me about it."

"I'll try." I hiked on my backpack.

"You are not allowed to try; you are only allowed to do."

"This cancer is making you sound like a Jedi."

"If I were a Jedi, I wouldn't have cancer," Becca pouted.

"President Roslin had cancer." I pointed at Battlestar Galactica --1 on the TV. "And she's pretty kick- a.s.s."

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"Great. All I need is some chamalla extract and Cylon blood, and I'll be cured." Becca oozed sarcasm. That was my job.

"s.h.i.t, Becca, what do you want me to say? I don't know what to do."

I stood with my backpack weighing me down as Becca and I said nothing. Finally, she broke the silence. "Sorry. I guess cancer has turned me into a b.i.t.c.h."

"At least you have an excuse." I smiled. "Let me know what hap- pens tomorrow. Try to focus on your upcoming nuptials."

"I will." She broke a smile.

We said good- bye, and I left Becca's house, the guilt of the healthy friend weighing more heavily than the backpack on my shoulders.

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CHAPTER.

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School felt like an impediment to actual life. Tests, home- work, f.u.c.king gym cla.s.s. Did any of it really matter? I spent much of the day staring at Becca's list. What if I died tomorrow? Would my life have been fulfi lling? Would I have regrets? Would any of my thoughts or feelings matter once I died? Therefore, did anything that I did now matter?

I ran into Leo at my lunch hour, and he asked if I was still com- ing over that night. I told him yes, and as we parted ways I wondered why I didn't feel more excited. I liked Leo a lot, but something about turning a fantasy into a real person took away the excitement, the s.e.xy mystery. At the same time, Leo managed to surpa.s.s many of my fantasies with even more satisfying reality. Is that all that mattered anymore? Satisfaction? Immediacy? One moment of plea sure to eclipse the mundane, the horrifi c, the tragic? I didn't know what I wanted. Nothing felt important, not my current life, my future, my --1 death.

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Becca texted me near the end of the day: Done w s.h.i.t for a week. Maybe back at school next week. We can make out in the book closet.

Instantly my mood changed. I never knew what to expect from Becca's cancer treatment. It seemed like a lot of up and down, sick and normal, Regular Becca and Cancer Becca. If she were to be at school next week, it would mean jokes in the hall and instant updates on ridiculously unimportant things. Things that weren't worth typ- ing into an email or holding for our Skype conversations. Toilet paper on shoes and whose hand grazed someone's a.s.s in gym or who farted in AP Spanish. Laughter at lunch and looks in the hall that spoke louder than words. That's what I was missing from my life.

Even alive, cancer took away my best friend.

AJ, Mom, and CJ were playing Jenga in the kitchen when I got home from school. "Whoa," I p.r.o.nounced. "Am I in the right house?" I looked around suspiciously.

"We wanted to show Mom how expert we are," AJ explained.

"They've been playing at lunch in the school library," Mom bragged, the pride of her boys spending lunchtime in a library too great not to share.

"I remember that from middle school. Is Ms. Nelson still the librarian?" I asked, sitting at the table, careful not to knock it.

"Yeah. She's hilarious when we play Scattergories."

"Yes! We used to play that, too. And a lot of Guess Who for some reason." I missed that. The games. The innocence. Me and Becca in -1- middle school.

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CJ wiggled his fi nger into a precarious slot near the bottom of the Jenga tower and artfully slid out a block.

"Very nice move," I commended him.

"Thanks. You want to try?"

"Sure." I stood for better leverage and selected an easy target at the top of the tower. As I shimmied the block out of its hole, my hand twitched and the top half of the tower crumbled to the table.

"Jenga!" Mom yelled, with her hands thrown into the air. We all looked at her. "What? Aren't I supposed to yell that when it falls?"

AJ, CJ, and I looked at one another with eye- rolling glances and busted out laughing.

"I'm so glad I amuse you." My mom smirked. "So, pizza okay for dinner?" She stood and opened the menu drawer. AJ and CJ were all over it, but I had to decline.

"I have plans," was all I off ered.

"Yes?" Mom goaded.

"I'm going to a friend's house to watch the Basket Case movies.

He's never seen them."

"He?" Mom caught the slip instantly.

"Yes, Mom. There are boys who like horror movies, too. It's fascinating."