#and take my lesbian flag off my wall to drape around me

[fangedsatyr]

if i do all my hmw im gonna go to a pride event tmw ^_^

[marmolady]

Pride

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Diego x Varyyn, Estela x MC

Summary: (Endless Ending– set after my longer fic, ‘Broken Chains’, if you’ve not read it, assume a happy ending).  Surrounded by a barrier of friends, Varyyn joins Diego as they march in their very first Pride parade.

Word Count: 1588

Tagging:   @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr,  @greengroove

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Cloaked in a dark hood, at odds with the popping attire of near everyone around him, Varyyn was wide-eyed with fascination as he stepped out of the Northbridge train station, Diego at his side. The streets were awash with colour, hues that were draped over countless flags, banners, even the skin of revelers.

Diego grasped his husband’s hand tightly. He was awash with emotion; anxiety at having Varyyn surrounded by so many people, but more than that, a feeling of belonging that he’d craved for as long as he could remember.

“This is it, Varyyn,” he uttered hoarsely. “Happy Pride!”

“I am always proud to be with you, my love.”

Taylor was grinning like an idiot-- for her, too, this was a first, as it was for Estela with whom her fingers were entwined. “We’ve got this, Diego, the rest of us should be enough of a barrier to stop anyone from looking at you two too closely.”

Giving his best friend a warm smile, Diego nodded. That he’d been touched to have ten friends putting themselves out there to give him the kind of Pride experience he’d wistfully imagined was an understatement. They had his back. “Yeah, we got this.”

He looked around. Friends surrounded him on all sides, dressed in their colours or else proudly wearing ‘ally’ pins. To think he’d felt so alone before--

“Hey!” Craig exclaimed, “If anyone gets to close to our V-Dog, I can pull off a killer diversion. I’ve been practising my moves for weeks…”

“It’s been fucking torture to watch,” Zahra said. “But, yeah, your dancing will scare anyone off, I’ll give you that.”

As they marched on with the parade, the smile on Estela’s face just grew broader. She’d never had a chance to do anything like this in San Trobida, and probably she’d have steered clear of all the fuss anyway. Since returning from La Huerta, her sexuality, the identity that came with it, meant a whole lot more. On La Huerta, no one gave a damn, and she hadn’t bothered herself with labels. Today,though, her wrist was adorned with a pink, yellow and blue bracelet.

“I didn’t know you identified as pansexual?” Quinn queried warmly. When they’d discussed these things previously, Estela had always been vague-- which had always been accepted without hesitation; but it seemed something had changed.

Estela nodded. “I didn’t think I wanted a label, but then I thought… words have power. They can make you visible. I like who I am, how I love; a lot of people where I’m from struggle with that because for so long they had to hide. Visibility is important.”

“That’s my wife! Fighting the good fight and making the world less shit, one PDA at a time.” Taylor jumped to give Estela an enormous smooch, delighting in the happy squirm she caused.

“So, uh,” Estela tried to continue, whilst her love continued to pepper her face and neck with kisses, “basically, I just… find some people attractive. And I don’t think it would have mattered if Taylor was a guy or a girl or both or neither. She’s my person. It was a weird feeling, like something deep inside me knew.”

“Aw, ‘Stel!” Taylor gushed. “As for me? Basically, I’m gay as the day is long. Useless Lesbian: Alien Edition.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Zahra scoffed. “You’re a walking fucking stereotype. If there were U-Hauls on La Huerta, maybe you wouldn’t have even needed to get hitched after what… how many weeks? Three? Four?”

Diego was quick to swoop to his friend’s defence. “Hey! La Huerta rules apply! Way too much wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff to untangle.”

Quinn smiled warmly. It wasn’t the first time she’d been to one of these events, nor even the third or fourth, but to be surrounded by the friends who’d become her family made for a very different experience. She was not alone, dodging pitying whispers while she tried to embrace a side of herself that was so much more than ‘the dying girl’. And now, she had Michelle.

“Life can be over so fast; if you care for someone, there’s no shame in putting yourself out there and showing it.” She gave Michelle’s hand a squeeze, and they exchanged an affectionate glance. “Being trapped at the end of the world can do a lot to put things in perspective. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m living without regrets. Who I am is who I am; and that includes the pieces I wished I could hide from.”

Grace looked to her friend with admiration. “That’s very brave, Quinn. Sometimes accepting yourself can be the hardest thing.” Especially when the people you love can’t look at the true you and do the same. “Honestly, you’ve helped me a lot.”

Walking beside Diego, Varyyn was beginning to see why they called it ‘Pride’; he could feel it emanating from his husband, creating a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun beating down. And the smile on Diego’s face? Varyyn was sure he’d not ever seen anything quite so beautiful. Though careful not to peer to far out from his hood, he took the time to look over each of the different coloured flags and ask about each one. A young woman jogged past, wearing a cape of black, grey, white and purple-- the same design that was plastered across Raj’s shirt.

“Raj,” he queried, “ I believe Diego told me about your colours. It is for… ‘ace’? For no romantic partners?”

“You got it! Basically, I get all the love I need from my bros. I never really felt like anything was missing, you know?”

“I understand. It’s not something my people have a word for, though I know several friends who have always felt the way you do,” he said, thoughtfully. “So much of this we don’t have words for; we just… be. I appreciate your sharing with me. And I am very grateful to be one of your bros.”

The whole experience was vastly different to anything that could exist among the Vaanti. Sexuality and gender was of so little consequence; there had never been much weight put on words and labels, there were no expectations that it be necessary. By the generally agreed upon human terms, Varyyn supposed he might call himself ‘pansexual’ as Estela did. The rainbow flag, though, was his favourite. In it he saw the jubilation of making it through a storm to something beautiful. Appropriate it was, that it meant so much to Diego, as he stepped out unafraid and loved. Varyyn looked at Diego, his husband, the love of his life; surrounded by a wall of friends, laughing on Taylor’s shoulder. He was truly radiant.

Varyyn put a hand on Raj’s shoulder. “Could I ask a great favour of you?”

“A personal favour for the elyyshar of the Vaanti? I think I can swing that….”

Taylor was chuckling as she ruffled her best friend’s hair. “So, how is it? Everything you dreamed of-- if you’d even dreamed you’d have the Knights’ bi legend Sean Gayle as part of your pride posse?”

“Pretty sure Past Diego would think you’d hit your head too hard if you’d tried to tell him this was coming. I mean, the time travel, the monsters, my best friend being some sort of knockoff ET, are unbelievable enough, but these kind of squad goals…? I…” Suddenly, he found himself choking up. If it was a life-altering adventure, he’d got it. What was left at the end of it was something that could never be truly grasped by outsiders, some bond, sacred even, that had helped him find his own strength. As he struggled to come to grips with the tatters that remained of his family life, it was that strength that would keep him afloat, and that bond that would see his heart start to heal. “I… didn’t think this feeling was possible for me.”

And Taylor hugged him tight. “You’d better get used to it, because you’re stuck with us. You deserve this. Just for being you… and also for being the world’s best wingman. The best thing that ever happened to me happened because you helped me believe in taking a leap. Diego Soto, I will never not owe you one,” she laughed.”So, for my next trick, I will pass you off to someone who wants his arms around you even more than I do. You’re welcome.

With a wink, Taylor spun Diego into Varyyn’s waiting arms, which draped an enormous rainbow flag around the two of them.

“My love,” Varyyn crooned, ��“you bring my world more beauty than I believed possible. You showed me hope and light in my darkest hour. Diego, you are my rainbow.”

Cloaked in a fluttering of multicoloured fabric, they kissed, long and tender; the pounding of music and marching, the chants of ‘Variego!’ fading far into the background, beyond their own private euphoric celebration.

Varyyn came away slowly, his expression warm as he stared into a look of fierce affection. How could he ever have dreamed what had been held in store for him, when this lion-hearted storyteller was beyond anything Vaanu had yet shown him. A whispered ‘I love you’ from his beloved Diego set his heart, once again, all aflutter, dancing like the rainbow flag around their heads. “And I love you.”He quirked an eyebrow. “Best Pride ever?”

Diego gave a short laugh and pecked a kiss to his love’s gentle lips. “Best Pride ever.”

[master-sass-blast]

Painting Pandemonium

Alright, I know this should’ve been part two of “Out With the Old, In With the New,” but I had a bad few days and needed fluff. Part Two of last week’s fic will be up next week, barring any other mishaps.

Summary: You and Piotr host a Bob Ross painting party for your family and friends.

Rating: G for domestic fluff and found family stuff.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Ellie Phimister x Yukio, Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin (alluded to), and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Set after “Future: Realized.”

Sidenote: I’m thinking about doing a dedicated arc to Alexandra. She’s got an entire fleshed out backstory for the series, and I love her so much and would love to feature her more. Would any of you be interested in that/some Alexandra-centric fics? Let me know via DMs or asks; Tumblr changed the notifications system and made it too hard to keep up with reblogs.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @nebulous-leo

It begins one sunny, early Spring day, when you’re watching your husband work on his latest painting (one of two hands holding each other, each smeared with the colors of the lesbian, gay, and asexual pride flags) in his art studio.

“Have you ever heard of Bob Ross?”

“Da.” Piotr dabs some more magenta paint on the wrist of the left hand, then looks over at you and smiles. “I watched tutorials to learn English. Why ask?”

“Eh, just wondering,” you say, curling up in the cushy arm chair Piotr keeps in his studio –he says it’s so he has somewhere comfortable to sit when he’s thinking, but it’s as much for you as it is for him. “Wasn’t sure if he’d made it over into Russia’s cultural bubble or not.”

“Ah, that, not so much.” He takes a step back from his easel, eyeing the canvas with no small amount of scrutiny, undoubtedly weighing out whether the distributions of the colors on the two hands–the rainbow amalgam for the gay pride flag where the fingers interlock, and the lesbian and asexual pride flag colors on the separate, untouching parts of the hands and wrists—are up to his incredibly high standards. “Matushka found some for me to watch on tape when I started painting, but I earnest watched when I came to America.” He quirks his mouth to the side, then looks at you and jerks his head at the canvas. “Mysli?”

“Needs more yellow and green,” you declare after a moment of studying the painting. “Otherwise it’s a lot of warm tones and purple-y tones, and that just makes my eyes start glazing without something to liven it up.”

Piotr nods with a grunt of agreement, then adds more yellow and green paint to his palette.

***

 It continues a few weeks later, when the two of you are buying groceries.

“Hey, have you heard about those ‘Bob Ross painting parties?’” you blurt when you two pass the arts and crafts section of the store. When Piotr gives you a blank look, you elaborate. “You know, a bunch of people get together with a bunch of paint and canvases and shit and follow a Bob Ross tutorial while hanging out.”

Piotr blinks rapidly as he processes the concept, then smiles slowly and shakes his head. “I take it you have reason for bringing this up.”

“I mean…” You let your voice trail off, then look up at your husband with your patented ‘I’m-so-cute-you-can’t-resist-me-please-make-me-pancakes’ eyes. “We have a house. We have access to YouTube and Netflix –which are where the tutorials are. We have friends we like to hang out with.”

Piotr chuckles, then grins down at you. “Would you like to host ‘painting party,’ myshka?”

“Well, since you brought it up!” you chirp brightly, which only makes your husband laugh harder. “But yeah, I think it’d be fun! And we got paint right here!”

Piotr shakes his head –still smiling—as you gesture at the Crayola-stocked arts and crafts section, then ushers you away from the aisle. “We can host party, lyublyu –but we can get better paint than that.”

 ***

 It takes a few weeks of planning, gathering supplies, checking schedules, and inviting people –but finally, towards the end of April, it all comes together.

The kitchen counter is laden with snacks –chips, fruits and veggies, cookies, little sandwiches, and the like. The coffee table in front of the couch has canvases, tubes of paint, and jars of paintbrushes loaded on it. The TV that hangs over the fireplace is on and set up to play one of Bob Ross’s tutorials, once everyone’s ready.

Nearly everyone is already here. Kitty, Russell, Illyana, Ellie, and Yukio are milling around the kitchen, jabbering while they down various snacks. Mikhail and Neena are sitting on the couch, looking at something on Neena’s phone. Piotr and his mother, Alexandra, are talking about one of Piotr’s latest paintings, while Nikolai stands nearby quietly, only throwing in the occasional comment.

You grin when the doorbell rings multiple times in a row, then skip over to the front door and open it with a sunny grin. “Hey!”

Wade greets you with an enthusiastic bear hug. “Howdy yourself, pardner! Hope you saved some yellow paints for me; I’ve always found those ones to be the best tasting.”

You and Nate exchange a fondly annoyed eyeroll over Wade’s antics, in addition to a hug. “Glad you could make it, Dad.”

“Like we wouldn’t come.” He pats your shoulder, lips quirking into an amused grin. “Like he’d—” he nods at Wade “—let me skip out. He’s been talking about it nonstop for the past two weeks.”

 ***

 It takes no small amount of shuffling to get everyone situated so they can all see the screen. Kitty, Illyana, Russell, Ellie, and Yukio all cram onto the couch together (which Piotr drapes with towels beforehand), Neena, Nathan, Alex, and Nikolai take station behind the couch with barstools and easels, you and Piotr set up on either side of the couch, and Mikhail and Wade…

Well…

“This is fucking overkill,” Wade gripes as Piotr ushers him and his brother to an area he’d prepped by taping newspapers to the floors and walls before hanging plastic shower curtains over the walls and putting down one of his thick drop canvases over the newspapered floor.

“Language, Wade,” Piotr says. “And it is just small precaution.”

“Nebol'shaya predostorozhnost', moya zadnitsa,” Mikhail grumbles.

“You two are… most chaotic,” Piotr says, attempting to be diplomatic. “This will minimize clean up, at end.”

“Sounds like someone wants paint in his shoes,” Wade stage-whispers to Mikhail.

“Agreed,” Mikhail faux whispers back with a nod. “We wait until tutorial puts him to sleep, and then we put purple paint in shoes.”

“I was thinking red, but purple works, too.”

You laugh along with everyone else, then blow your husband a kiss when he sighs heavily and shakes his head. “Alright, are we all ready?”

 ***

 “Fu –freaking… why does he switch colors so much!”

“Relax, baby.” Yukio smiles at her frustrated girlfriend, then kisses her shoulder. “It’s just for fun.”

“Fun is playing Mariokart… or studying string theory,” Ellie growls through gritted teeth as she jabs at her canvas with a paintbrush. “Not… dab some stuff here and some other stuff there and making little blobs look like things.”

“Come on, Negasonic the Hedgehog!” Wade coos teasingly from where he’s swiping at his own canvas. “Think ‘happy little clouds’ and ‘happy little trees!’”

“Douchepool, I will jam this paint brush up your—”

“Language, NTW,” Piotr says warningly –though not without a good dose of fondness. “And, Wade, no harassment, please.”

“Harassment? Pretty sure your little protegee there was just threatening to harass my—”

“Wade.”

Kitty just laughs as she works on her own ‘mountain sunrise’ scene. “Relax, Ellie. There’s no right or wrong way to do it.”

“Incorrect,” Illyana retorts, brow deeply furrowed as she works on her own painting. “There is tutorial. That is right way.”

“Tutorial is only reference, to show distribution of colors and shades,” Piotr corrects his younger sister as he leans over to look at his mentee’s canvas. “You are loading brush too heavy, Ellie. Start with less, then add more if needed.”

“I think I am less ‘sunrise’ and more ‘disco rave,’” Nikolai chuckles as he peers down at his own canvas.

Neena lets out a ‘whoa’ when she looks over at Nick’s canvas, then laughs lightly. “It’s long distance art. Meant to be seen from far away.”

Nick laughs along with her. “At last, I have found niche.”

The corner of Alex’s mouth turns up in a smile, and she reaches out and pats her husband’s thigh with her free hand.

***

 Once you’re all done –which takes a lot of pausing and rewinding the tutorial video—you all set your respective canvases on the dining room table, then admire each other’s works.

Piotr’s, unsurprisingly, is the best. He’s the most experienced artist out of all of you, and very familiar with both the materials and Bob Ross’s work.

You wrap your arms around your husband’s waist and kiss his side. “Very nice work, honey.”

He wraps a strong, muscular arm around you and kisses the top of your head. “Spasibo, myshka.”

Alexandra’s is also a “top contender” (even though it’s not a contest, which means there really aren’t contenders, but whatever). It’s not as technically proficient as her son’s –none of yours are—but in balance, composition, and contrast, it’s one of the strongest.

The painter herself, though, regards her work with neutral indifference while everyone else ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over it. “It’s alright. Average.”

You watch as Nikolai wraps his arms around his wife’s shoulders, murmuring something in her ear that you can’t make out –it’s likely in Russian, anyway, so it doesn’t make much of a difference—before kissing her temple.

Alex’s hand trembles as she places it on her husband’s arm. Just a little.

Before you can make anything of it, Kitty busts out laughing.

“That is amazing!” she guffaws as she studies Wade’s painting –which looks less like a ‘sunrise’ and more like…

Well, it’s somewhere between a ‘LSD trip realized’ and ‘inside of a rainbow.’

(Granted, they might just be the same thing.)

“Very Picasso,” Kitty adds, grinning and shaking her head.

Wade preens theatrically. “I always felt a calling the abstract.”

She moves to Nikolai’s next. “I actually really like this. I think the intensity of the sunrise colors really sets off the greens in the trees.”

Nikolai grins when Illyana translates for him, then does a little bow to Kitty. “Spasibo, tigrionok.”

You can’t help but smile as you watch everyone –the people you love so much—laugh and talk to each other and admire each other’s paintings. This is home.

 ***

 “You seem happy.”

You look up from admiring everyone’s paintings –night has long since fallen, and everyone’s headed back to their own places, but you and Piotr had offered to hold onto the paintings for a few days so they could dry. “Huh?”

“You are happy, lyublyu.” Piotr smiles softly as he watches you. “Glowing.”

You smile bashfully as you look up at him. “I mean… I am happy. We’re making a home.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you smile broader even as grief –well-papered over, but there all the same—rises in your chest. “And it’s so different from the one I grew up in. It’s warm and loving and friendly… and that makes me happy.”

Piotr smiles, melancholy tears shining in his eyes, then draws you into his arms and kisses the top of your head.

Yeah. This is home.

[sprnklersplashes]

heart of stone (8/?)

AO3

Her first week home goes by far faster than Janis thought it would, and that might in part be due to the fact that she spent a lot of it asleep, or in their weird limbo state between awake and asleep. Maybe it was some out of character naivete, but she thought that her time at home would be almost normal, or at least less painful than in the hospital. She had made all these plans to take Cady out for ice cream during the week and catch up with other friends and maybe even swing into North Shore to see her old art teachers. Grab parts of her old life back and feel like herself again.

But her body didn’t agree with her. Rather than a rush of energy flowing into her body on the drive home and her waking up feeling refreshed and free, she felt weighted down from the minute she left the hospital. She had sat half-asleep in the back of her dad’s car, her head lolling against the seat and kept awake only by her parents’ voices and the radio buzz, along with her own will power. Apparently she couldn’t even make it through one lousy movie night, crashing out before the first one is even over and waking up at double digits to a concerned friend. The days after that weren’t much better, and all the plans she made melted down her bathroom drain. She feels as though she closed her eyes and when she opened them again, a whole week had passed without her knowledge. And now she’s walking through the hospital doors again with her bag slung over her shoulders, the goodbye hug she shared with her father lingering on her skin.

The place feels far less strange than it had the first week, and she guesses that can only be a good thing. It doesn’t feel ‘homey’, there are too many strangers roaming the halls and everything is too sterile and strict for that, but she feels more in place. Like she’s viewing it through a camera lens and the picture is coming into focus.

“Janis!”

Her thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of a small body ramming into her side, a beanie-clad head colliding with her chest and arms around her waist. Normally she’d object to being grabbed that way, but there’s something about this particular hug that warms her up, not just her heart but her body too and for a few minutes makes her forget about her angsting.

“Hi cutie!” she wraps one arm around Maddie, her other hand still occupied with her bag. “What have you been up to while I was away?”

Before she answer, someone calls her name. It’s sharp and sudden, a complete departure from Maddie’s own adorable, if rushed, babbling. A woman appears as if out of nowhere, with short hair and a frown one her face and glasses framing her eyes. Janis doesn’t have to be a genius to work out who she is though.

“Sorry mom,” Maddie says before taking Janis’ hand and yanking her forwards. True to fashion, Janis wobbles and almost trips over her own feet in the process. “Mom, this is Janis, the girl I was telling you about! The new girl!”

“Oh.” Maddie’s mom smoothes her hair down and gives her a smile, one that wouldn’t look out of place on a TV special. “Nice to meet you, Janis. Maddie’s told me a lot about you.”

“Oh, well now I’m scared,” she says, shoving her free hand in her pocket.

“Oh, I’ve only heard good things from her,” she says warmly. She has quite a similar face to Maddie, same chin and dimple in her cheeks and cheekbones. The eyes are different though, hers green where Maddie’s are brown. Her hair is dark blonde and curling at the bottom and Janis can’t help wondering if that’s what Maddie’s hair looked like before. She’d certainly look cute with blonde curls falling around that little face. Her eyes move from Janis to her daughter and in turn go from full of warmth to exasperation, a trick only moms know. “Maddie you can’t run off like that.”

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I just saw Janis and wanted to say hi.” Then she turns around to Janis as if her mom isn’t even there. Janis wants to disapprove. “Hey, can you hang out now?”

“Nothing I’d love more, short stuff,” she says. “But I have to review with Mr Doctor first.” The words have barely left her lips before Maddie’s little face falls and Janis bends down to her level. “But once I’m done I’ll come find you and then you can tell me all the trouble you made this week. Deal?”

The way her face lights up does such a funny thing to Janis’ heart. It fills something she didn’t know was empty and makes it feel like it’ll burst.

“Deal.”

She gives her mom a wave before stepping back to her own mom. Maddie’s mom has her hand on her daughter’s back immediately, asking her hushed questions that Janis can’t hear, but she can guess. Something like ‘are you hungry’, ‘do you want a warmer sweater’ ‘maybe you should rest for a bit’. At least that’s what her mom would say to her. Cancer moms, she thinks.

Room 21 has been cleaned up since she was last in, sheets tucked in and obviously newly washed, the bathroom scrubbed and the shower things she brought neatly lined up on the shelves, the trashcan emptied.

Janis had thought about her little hospital room during the week. It’s a nice enough space, but she hadn’t quite realised how lonely it was until she was back in her own room. It’s cold and impersonal, not to mention identical to everyone else’s. So yesterday she took and their biggest shopping bag and started lifting some things from her room to give it a little more colour, make it feel like her space, not just a space made available for her.

She takes one of the pillows from her own bed and places it on this one. She bought it at a thrift store, made up of dozens of mismatching swatches from fabric. She then takes out two more cushions, one white with a black butterfly and one she tie dyed purple herself, and places them on the visitor’s chairs. Once they’re done she takes out a red fluffy blanket and drapes it over the bed, letting the edges drape over the sides. The place feels warmer in the literal and figurative sense now with all of them here.

Next she pulls out her lesbian flag form her bag, wondering why on Earth she didn’t bring it that first week. Her mom had wondered if this was a good idea, bringing a pride flag, not unsupportive but also not naïve to how the world is. Janis had insisted that it was important to her, and it’s technically a decoration. While her mom is the furthest thing from conservative, she still had a speech prepared in advance, telling her how this is a key part of her identity and how much it matters to her and how she’s never been scared to show it anyway, but it wasn’t needed. Her mom gave in as soon as she brought it up, telling her that if it would make her feel better, she wasn’t going to stop her.

So that’s how Doctor Wiley walks in on her standing on a chair and attempting to stick the flag on the wall.

“Doing a little bit of redecorating, are we?” he asks.

“Just a few knickknacks from home,” she says over her shoulder. “They really tie the room together, don’t you think?” She makes him wait until the other corner is stuck before jumping down and facing him, delighting in his slightly-confused (but nonetheless happy) expression.

“Right well, first week at home.”  He closes the door behind him, making sure it clicks shut. She winces at the noise and hopes he didn’t notice. Despite the colour she’s brought, the room feels suffocating again. “How did that go?”

“Pretty okay,” she says. She doesn’t lie to him, seeing no point in it. “I was tired. A lot.” She looks over at her mom, her arms wrapped around herself. “And um… I felt pretty lousy a lot of the time too. Like I had a really terrible hangover.”

“Well, that’s unfortunately to be expected,” the doctor says sadly. “That is a normal side effect of the chemo. Any other effects that you can remember? Any vomiting?”

“Nope.”

“Bleeding around your mouth?”

She shakes her head.

“Any trouble eating?”

“Are these all going to be related to my mouth?” she asks. He laughs at that and shakes his head.

“It does feel like that doesn’t it?” he asks. She huffs a laugh back and goes to say no again, but it catches in her throat. She doesn’t really remember eating that much over the week.

“I wasn’t really hungry,” she explains. She pulls her jacket tighter around her body. “I mean, I ate food. Not like I starved myself or anything. I just wasn’t hungry most days.”

“Well, again that’s to be expected,” he says as he scribbles on his little clipboard. She cranes her neck a little. It’s about her after all. She has a right to read it, she’d like to think. Unfortunately, the bastard slides it under his arm and out of her eyes. “Well, at least now you know what to expect. Your treatments seem to be working as they should, so we’ll keep it going there.” She nods, her lips pressed into a tight line. Surely no change is a good thing. “One more thing… have you thought any more about getting that port in?”

She takes a deep breath in. She has tried not to, but she has thought about it. She even Googled it and scribbled a pro and con list in what would have been a school notebook. And the more she read about it and thought about it… the more she was swayed by it.

“A bit,” she tells him. “I think… I think I might talk to some people about it before I decide anything.”

“That’s a great idea, Janis,” he beams. He’s probably just glad she thought about it. “I’ll let you two get settled in. See you later.”

She lets out a breath once he’s gone. Doctor Wiley isn’t a bad person, he’s sweet and kind and has the best kind of grandpa vibes; that’s why she feels so bad for being so uncomfortable whenever he’s around.

“You okay?” her mom asks.

“Aren’t I always?” she sighs. She kneels down and gets the last piece of décor out of her back; a string of little black and white star-shaped lights that used to hang above her bed. 2 dollars in her local store, plucked from a bin at the cash register. Cady had thought they were adorable.

‘They suit you,’ she had said, leaning her head on her shoulder. ‘Since you’re a space alien and all that.’

Smiling warmly at the memory, she wraps them around the frame at the foot of her bed. Tonight she can turn them on and let them light up the darkness. They’ll probably be less effective than the lamp sitting on the side, but they’re prettier. They’re hers.

“Hey, why don’t I get Maddie?” she says. Her mom nods, likely taking a moment to wonder who Maddie is before remembering. “I just think she’d like them.”

“Yeah, sure,” her mom says. “That’s really sweet.” Her mom’s words make her insides glow like the little lights soon will, and the glow gets brighter when Maddie gasps and tells her how much she loves everything, gushing over the flag and the stars. It’s not home, and she’s not completely comfortable here, but she’s doing what she does best, she supposes. She’s adapting to circumstance.

                                                                                              *****

She’s eating her dinner when her dad comes over on Tuesday. The hospital staff angelic helpful beings that they are, fix him up with a plate of fries and a hot dog when he casually remarks he hadn’t made eaten himself yet. And overly polite, gracious man that her father is, he thanked them two or three times and made sure to tell them how much he loved it. She had rolled her eyes along with her mom, even if they were both laughing at him. The best part is knowing that this isn’t even an act, he’s just like that.

Visiting hours had barely started when he came through her door tonight. That’s how he had been every day of her first two weeks and apparently, he had started as he meant to go on. Taking attendance as seriously as Cady does. But as punctual and meticulous as he is, he’s never forgotten to get dinner before. And while she does her absolute best not to show it, so many bad feelings cloud her mind and twist her stomach, adding to the simmering nausea she’s felt for a few hours now.

She moves her fork around the pasta as her dad talks work to them, although the words fall away before they reach Janis, her mind on the dinner in front of her. Vegetarian lasagne, something she’s always loved, but the sauce looks too much like slime for her liking, and the way the filling and pasta slithers around each other and schlops around on the plate turns her off it even more. She takes a quick sip of water to try to calm her body down, but to no avail. The mere idea of eating anything more exhausts her and she bites her cheek to keep from gagging.

“Janis, you okay?” her mom asks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she says quietly. “Peachy keen.” She drops the fork, letting it clatter against the paper plate. “I think I’m done.”

“You sure?” her mom asks. “You barely touched it.”

“Not hungry,” she reasons. She shoves the tray table away from her before the sight of the food makes her retch. She pulls her pillow against her stomach, picking at a loose thread on it, avoiding her parent’s gaze. She doesn’t need to look at them to know that they’re worried about her.

“You want some of mine?” her dad asks.

“I’m okay,” she replies, shaking her head only to regret it. “Besides, you know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yeah, I do. You know, Jan, your mom and I were talking,” her dad begins. He looks over to her mom, not for permission, but something akin to it. Validation, that might be the right word to use. A sign that this is the right thing to say right now. “Maybe it might be smart for you to press pause on the vegetarian thing for now.”

“Well, unless you can ask the meat industry to put a pause on the animal cruelty thing,” she fires back. “I’m not doing that.”

“Okay,” he sighs. She lifts her eyes enough to look at him and rests her chin on her pillow. “Look, you just need all the strength you can get at the minute.”

“Are you mansplaining my own body to me?” she asks. She makes sure to add a smirk so he knows she’s not serious. It must not have worked, because he takes it seriously. And he never takes stuff like this seriously. Hell, he’d probably agree and say something half-serious right back.

“I’m not… no,” he says. “I’m just saying that it might be worth it to eat more. I know you care about the planet but-”

“If you tell me I have to care about myself too or something like that, I’m going to scream,” she says flatly. “And then Doctor Wiley will come in and we’ll all be having a very awkward conversation.” She pushes herself up from the bed and stands facing him just to prove her point. Sure, white spots flash in her vision for a few seconds, but she powers through it. Spite fuels her more than any food can. So raises her chin and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not dropping the vegetarian thing, Dad. That’s the end of it.”

The prickly silence that falls over the room is almost enough to make her regret what she said. Her dad’s mouth opens and closes noiselessly, his eyes moving from her to her mom. She’d bet that if she had pulled this under normal circumstances she’d have gotten a ‘don’t talk to your father like that’ and she finds herself craving one here. She doesn’t get it. It’s not unexpected but it’s frustrating. Instead he holds his hands up, surrendering to her.

“Okay,” he says, sitting down on the bed. “Fine.”

Regret and pride battle inside her at the sight of her at the sight of her dad’s dejected face. While she and her parents are no strangers to disagreements, this is new; the three of them unsure of what to say, her mom unsure whose side to take. Fights in their house resolve themselves in under a minute and are forgotten entirely. Fights here… maybe not so much. Different stakes, she supposes. That idea shakes her and makes her feel even more sick. Which is great.

She holds if off for another minute before climbing across the bed to him and wrapping her arms around him and even resting her chin on his shoulder. A second passes and he doesn’t move, and Janis almost spirals, but then he takes her hand and rests his cheek against her head.

“I’m just worried about you, kid. You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’m sure,” she says. “Besides, the veggie options they have are way better than the meat ones.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “As long as you’re feeling okay.” She murmurs something that was meant to be a response, but to be honest, she’s not even sure what she was going for. Maybe assuring him that she’s fine, even if that would be a bare-faced lie. She lets him take whatever he needs from it instead of deciding herself. All she can really do is hope this never comes up again because thinking about it makes her skin crawl and the her stomach twist into knots.

                                                                                               *****

Unfortunately, she isn’t much better by the next day. Cramps clench her stomach and wreck through her body, a chill racing after it and leaving her shivering beneath her sweatshirt. She throws the covers off only to pull them back on a minute later, her body changing temperatures so rapidly it’s like two kids tossing a ball between them. She spends the achingly long morning in varying degrees of pain and discomfort and small bouts of sleep, shifting into a new position every few seconds in a desperate attempt to ease it in any way.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her mom’s hand runs through her hair, gentle yet tinged with anxiety, out of a fear for Janis and a fear of this unknown, alien thing happening. Other mom’s like Maddie’s mom at least have the advantage of knowing this. She doesn’t and Janis bets that’s what scares her. But that doesn’t stop her trying. “Do you need anything. Some water, an extra blanket? Painkillers?”

“I need it stop,” she groans. She pulls herself into a tight ball as her stomach doubles over, Purrlock beneath her chin, stroking her face with his tiny paws. Between the waves of pain, she manages a small shake of her head. “I just need to ride it out.” She opens her eyes just enough to see her mom nod and keeps them open long enough to see Nurse Lucy come into the room, bulging plastic bags inside a tray, and a long, uninterrupted groan escapes her lips.

“Funnily enough that’s what my husband said to me this morning,” she says without skipping a beat.

“You need a new husband,” Janis replies from where her face is pressed into the pillow.

“Bad day?”

“Unfortunately,” her mom answers. Janis hears the door clicking shut and she’s immensely grateful for it. “She’s felt a little off last night and now-”

“Now we’re here,” she interrupts. “And everything hurts.” She pushes herself up, finding herself helplessly looking up at the person with the most knowledge. “Is this normal?”

“It is, sweetheart,” she says, calming a fear Janis hadn’t realised was there. “You just need to power through it.”

“That’s what she said to me,” her mom murmurs, although concern is still etched onto her face. “Is it safe for her to be on that right now?”

“It is,” she replies.

“Can’t we skip it just this once?” Janis complains. “You know how shit it makes me feel. Now it’ll make me feel double shit.”

“I know, Janis.” Lucy goes about setting up the IV, although there’s almost unending sympathy when she looks down at Janis.. “But we can’t mess with your treatments, kid. Not unless there’s a serious reason”

Janis bites the inside of her cheek. She doesn’t like other people being right instead of her and she really hates it now. As she pushes herself up and rolls up her sleeve it’s with gritted teeth and a scowl and a reminder to the universe that she’s not giving in willingly.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s our girl,” Lucy comments as she takes her arm. “Look on the bright side, at least it’s not doing this.”

“Yeah.” She winces as the needle breaks through her skin. The medicine slips through her veins and it’s because it affects her already half-asleep mind already that her next sentence comes out. “You know, I think he and my friend Damian would make a good couple.”

“I’ll pass that onto him,” she replies with a chuckle. “Okay, that should take another two hours. You try to stay hydrated during that time, okay? Or just take it easy.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” she mumbles. Her face is already pressed into the pillow, her body turned on its side and her knees dragged up to her chest. She feels sliver of self-consciousness run through her with her mom and Lucy’s eyes on her, both full of pity and worry, the latter more evident in her mom’s. Through her half-closed eyes, she sees Lucy take her mom’s arm and whisper something to her, something that makes her nod but does nothing to relieve the tension out of her body. If she were normal, she’d snap at them and remind them that she’s still in the room, but then if she were normal right now, they wouldn’t be doing that.

She doesn’t know how long it takes for her to fall asleep, all she knows is that when she wakes up it’s because there’s an IV being taken out of her arm and an apologetic nurse. Which means she’s lost at least two hours of her day from sitting in here.

She still feels bad, but at least now it’s in part due to her stiff muscles. She stretches out her arms and runs a hand through her hair, trying to re-ground herself in the land of the living. Surprisingly, her mom is nowhere to be found. Maybe she slipped down to the store and picked up a trashy magazine or hunted down some other cancer moms to become friends with. The idea makes her smile. Good for her, she thinks.

Still a little feeling groggy, she grabs stretches over to the table and grabs her sketchbook and pencil, her hand moving around in lazy lines to create half-shapes and thin concepts for later. Her mom comes in soon, as she suspected, holding a new magazine, and checks up on how she’s feeling before letting her get back to work. The drawing obviously can’t help fix her body, but it patches up her mind and makes her feel like more of a human.

It takes a while, but she finally starts to feel better; her stomach settles down, the idea of food doesn’t disgust her and she’s comfortable in her sweater. Even though she feels shaky from the mini hurricane that ran through her, it’s such a relief to feel normal again. Her drawings start to take on a more concrete shape; a little girl holding a balloon, a butterfly, a baby dragon breathing little sparks, a baby tiger to make friends with the baby dragon.

She’s pretty close to fine when there’s a gentle, cautious knock on her door. Her mom asks silently if she’s up for it, and Janis answers in the form of getting up and opening it herself. On the other side is a woman maybe her mom’s age with long dark hair wearing a red shirt tucked into white pants, holding a clipboard and of course, smiling. Everyone in here smiles.

“Janis?” she asks.

“That would be me.”

“Hi. I’m Cassie. I’m with the Cancer Fund for Young People.” She gestures proudly to the plastic covered badge on her shirt, blue and white with a smiley cartoon sunflower. “Would it be okay if I could grab a quick word with you?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.”

Janis steps back and opens the door, letting her into the room. Once there, Cassie immediately notices her mom in the corner and powers right up to her, handshake at the ready.

“Oh you must be her mom,” she says.

“Um yeah. You’re with some cancer fund?”

“Yes.” Janis sits down on the bed, her legs folded beneath her, and closes her sketchbook. Cassie sits next to her, a little too close for Janis’ liking. Her mom hovers helplessly next to the bed, uncertainly evident in her stance and her eyes constantly moving to the door. She’s given Janis her fair share of privacy in here, but Janis is glad that this time she’s here. Something tells her that being alone with this woman would unsettle her with her demeanour that’s so polished and shiny it’s practically plastic. So with that in mind she slips her mom a smile and a nod.

“So, like I said I’m with the Cancer Fund for Young People. We’re in charge of taking care of all the mental well-being of the patients in here. We know what a traumatic experience this is for you, Janis, and we want to help you through it.” She gives her a smile that seems calculated and Janis has to wonder how much of this spiel is scripted. “We offer a wide range of support systems to help you through this, as well as some fun social events.”

“Ah yes, I was wondering when we were doing the Cancer Kid Silent Disco,” Janis remarks. Cassie is unflinching, instead letting out a light laugh and handing her over an orange plastic wallet.

“Just some background information on some of the things we’re running now.” She opens looks through the glossy leaflets, some with information familiar to her like helplines and support groups. Different place, different reason, but she’s researched and even run the same concepts. She puts them to one side, lifting a couple of others and pretending to look at them until a few words catch her eye.

“That photography project,” she says. “Maddie and Melissa told me about it a few weeks ago.”

“That’s right,” she replies. “A lot of young people are getting involved all over the state. It’s actually the first year we’re doing this. The idea is we’d give you a camera and let you have a little photoshoot in here with all the things that matter to you. Your friends, your hobbies, your favourite things.”

“Showing the person behind the cancer.”

“Exactly.” Excitement sparks in Cassie’s eyes. “So what do you think about it?”

“I think it sounds cool,” she answers. “I mean I’m into all that kind of stuff, so…”

“Oh, that’s great. We’d love to have as many people involved as possible, so you hold onto that. It’s got all the details about how to go about it.” She clears her throat and leans forwards a little bit, her eyebrows raising in a way that almost makes Janis uncomfortable. “And then we also work with the Make A Wish Foundation. I’m sure you’ve heard all about that even if no-one’s spoken to you about it.”

“No-one’s brought that up actually,” Janis says. “Guess there was no time with all of… well, this.” She waves around the room, gesturing to the IVs and the bandages on her hand. “Really, I kind of forgot it was a thing.”

“Well, it definitely is a thing,” Cassie assures her. “And you just about make the cut, being 17 now. There was a bit of fuss since you’ll be 18 in November, but we squashed that pretty quickly.” When she chuckles, Janis’ eyes meet her mom, both no doubt thinking the same thing; God this woman is excited. “Couldn’t have you missing out on your wish, could we? So you can have anything you want. Go to any place you want, meet a celebrity you love, get some designer gear.” She cocks her head to her side, looking at her expectantly. She only offers a nod. Each offer is tempting but doesn’t sit right with her. After all, if this is her one wish, she’d want to get it right.

“Sounds awesome,” she says. “I’ll do some thinking on it.”

“Of course. Of course there’s not rush at all. This is all just for you to look over. There’s schedules in there for the support groups and therapy sessions-”

“Sounds fun.” Her voice is blunt, the words sudden and borderline rude, and she sees Cassie’s face just begin to crack. Apparently, she found this woman’s limit. She feels a small slurry of pride at that. “I’ll definitely look over them.”

“Good. Well if you need anything else from me, my number is on the bottom of all of them.” She gets up and brushes herself down, telling the two of them it was ‘so, so nice to meet them’ and that she hopes to see Janis again soon. And she still doesn’t leave after that, standing in the doorway giving them the tiny details about the photography project (which Janis could read about just fine) and how there’s “so many fun things they have planned”. Janis keeps nodding and nodding to the point that when she finally leaves, there’s a crick in her neck.

“Well she’s very into her job,” her mom remarks, making her laugh.

“You can say that again,” she sighs, shifting through the sheets of paper. They all have the same colour scheme as Cassie’s badge, ocean blue and blindingly bright orange, along with the happy sunflower, and each one showing photos of kids with tubes and hats sitting in circles or giving the camera a thumbs-up as they munch on pizza or sit at the front row of a concert.

“Anything catch your eye?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe. I meant it about that photography thing. Everything else…”

“Not your scene?”

“I…” She peers closer, looking at the background of one picture. “Okay well they got to go to Comic Con.”

“Oh, that’s fun. Didn’t you go to one a year or two ago?”

“Yeah.” She was also planning to go this coming summer to sell some art she’d been busy making, and to introduce Cady to another foreign concept. Who knows whether or not that’ll happen now? For her at least, Cady can still go. Damian might want to take her, or maybe one of the Mathletes, they’re all diehard geeks.  A picture pops into her mind, one of Cady walking around her first convention with that excited expression that reminds Janis of a puppy and makes her heart melt. Dragging Kevin G around different stalls, marvelling at the merchandise and the cosplays and the celebrities. Cady with wide, shining eyes and a breathless, beautiful smile and someone else at her side instead of her.

“I need the bathroom,” she announces. She jumps off the bed, hiding her shaking hand in her sweatshirt pocket. Hopefully, her mom will think she’s panting because she’s tired, not because she just upset herself. Sure enough, the question is ready on her lips once she’s up. “I’m fine, Mom. Just need to pee.”

She sits on the toilet with the seat closed, her knees up against her chest and her hands wrapped around her legs. Her breaths are long and deep; she imagines herself expelling the bad thought every time she breathes out; a trick she learned the first time she was in therapy. She scoffs at herself for feeling this way over something that wasn’t even real. She has plenty of real things to be upset about and she’s wound herself up over something that might not even happen. What’s she even upset about? Definitely not about Cady running off with Kevin. There are a million reasons that won’t happen. Is she upset about Cady enjoying herself when she’s not around? Oh God please no, she thinks to herself. Tell me I’m not becoming that girlfriend.

She rests her chin on her knees and looks glumly at the bathroom wall. This is actually a great place to contemplate, what with the plain white walls and the quiet and the coolness beneath her bare feet. Her thoughts are more coherent in here then they have been for weeks. Which is how she manages to get her feelings in order, set them in front of her like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved. In doing that, she sees she’s not jealous of Cady’s friends, nor does she want her to stop living her life on her account. It’s nothing but missing her and the idea of only experiencing Cady’s upcoming joy through second hand accounts rather than in person, that makes her heart hurt this way.

                                                                                               *****

Like she has done so many times before, Janis shoves those feelings down. Way down to the point where she almost can’t feel them. And since she can’t feel them, her mom can’t see them, and that means she’s only worried about the one thing. Which is good for both of them.

The next day she looks through the papers that Cassie gave her. She also learned that morning that her discomfort around Cassie isn’t unique to her, in fact she, Melissa and a few other older kids have a good old fashioned bitch session about her, giggling under their hands as they discuss her irrepressible cheerfulness or her perpetual optimism. It’s comforting to know she’s not the only one to find it exhausting, even if no-one else is on her level of dry cynicism. There are a lot of things that unites the people in this ward and one of them is apparently a disdain for enforced hopefulness.

“Well, it’s not all bad,” Melissa had pointed out. “I mean, it does work. A lot of it. Like the positivity journal I started.”

“The what now?”

“This journal I started when my treatments did,” she had explained. “It’s probably in your pack somewhere. Like writing down something good that happened to you each day, writing down the things you’re grateful for, et cetra.” She offers a small shrug. “Helps you stay positive, I guess.”

“Hm, not sure that would click with me,” Janis had said. “I’m like an electron. I have a negative charge.” Her little group had laughed at that before going back to complaining about/mocking her.

But despite that assertion, she’s sitting here not two hours later reading the pack she had previously dismissed. Among other things, finds the idea for the positivity journal, encouraging her to document her feelings, with particular focus on documenting the good parts. ‘When it’s raining, make sure to record the rainbows!’ it tells her. She wants to laugh and scrunch it up and toss it over her shoulder, but she freezes. A year ago, hell less than a year ago, she’d have done that. Now she simply slips it safely back into the wallet and places the wallet on a shelf rather than underneath something or hiding it in a drawer.

“Janis!”

Her head shoots up at the sound of that voice, mostly out of disbelief. She knows that voice well, which is why she’s almost certain she’s imagining it. While it’s not impossible, she still finds the idea of a (former) Plastic coming around hard to swallow.

But there’s Karen Smith is standing in the doorway, patented sunny smile and all. Janis blinks a little just to make sure she’s real. Nope, not dreaming apparently. So Karen Smith came to visit her in hospital.

“Karen,” she greets. She’s not afraid, Karen’s harmless by herself, she’s just not completely sure how to act without a mediator here. “You’re here…”

“Uh huh. The guy at the front desk told me where to find you. Oh also I ran into your mom downstairs! She was really nice.”

“Oh cool.” Karen nods, her feet remaining rooted to the floor and her eyes shifting. “Oh, come on in.” Janis leans forward and clears some of her stuff off the end of the bed, unused to visitors, especially at this time. “Uh, here sit down.”

“Thanks!” Karen skips into the room and it’s then Janis notices the little basket in her hands, covered with a little gingham cloth and looking straight out of a picture book.

“Okay, what’s with that?” she asks. “Delivering some cookies to grandma?”

“Not cookies,” she says, dimples forming in her cheeks as her smile gets wider. It spreads to Janis; Karen’s easily-brought happiness is infectious. She pulls back the cloth, revealing a Tupperware box containing muffins that bulge out of their cases, little red and white spots bursting through the golden surface. “Muffins! I made them for you. I asked Cady and Damian what flavours you like and they told me raspberry and white chocolate.” Her eyes meet Janis’, worry swimming in the blue. “Is that okay?”

“It’s great. Karen, thank you so much!”

She wants to say she’s touched, but that’s almost an understatement. It’s unexpected, sure, but the best kind of unexpected; the fact that she made muffins, the fact that she asked her friends what she likes. The fact that he thought about her. It leaves her at a loss for words and all she can do is take Karen’s hand and squeeze it tight. Karen seems to get it anyway.

“Do you want one now?”

“Of course I do!” Karen lets out a small squeak as she pops the box open and hands her one. They look even better up close, with the raspberries poking out and slivers of white chocolate running through the delicate dough. She bites into it, giggling as she wipes crumbs off her face.

“Oh my gosh, Karen, these are great!” she says through a full mouth. And she’s sure they are, but there’s kind of a small problem. She can’t really taste it. She gets about 1% of the taste, maybe less, and it might be her imagination. The sad part is that she isn’t surprised; she was told on the first day the chemo might mess up with her taste buds. But it could have done her a favour and waited until after she was given muffins for God’s sake.

“Thanks!” Karen squeals, biting into her own. “There were meant to be twelve, but I wanted to taste one to see if they were okay. So I shared it with my mom to see what she said.”

“That’s okay, Kare,” she says. She props her elbow up on her knee and pulls off the case more. “I didn’t know you could cook. Or bake, I guess.”

“Oh, I only just started,” she explains. “I started watching that baking show-the British one. Have you watched it?”

“Oh, of course. Who doesn’t?”

“Well I watched it last year, and I thought it looked really fun,” Karen explains. “So I went and looked up some recipes and I gave it a try.” She beams triumphantly at her and Janis feels an unexpected surge of happiness for her. “I think I might do that when we graduate. Go to like cooking college. I want to bake stuff for people.” She gasps suddenly and grabs Janis’ arm. She can almost see the lightbulb going off over her head. “Maybe I could bake stuff for cancer patients!”

“That’d be awesome,” Janis agrees. Karen smiles, a glow in her cheeks and her legs kicking above the ground.

“So how are you doing?” she asks. She brings as much seriousness as she can, which isn’t a lot, especially not with that little face of hers.

“I’m okay,” she shrugs. “You know how it is. I’m getting what I need, which is good.” Karen nods severely, something ticking in her brain. Something that’s surprised Janis upon getting to know her is that Karen isn’t empty-headed like she once thought. There’s a lot going on up there, it just goes on in a way they can’t understand. She’s certainly smart enough to understand the gravity of her situation, and before long her shoulders droop as she takes in more of the room. “Hey,” she taps her shoulder. “So what’s going on with you? Besides the baking, obviously.”

“Well, on the baking, I might be making some stuff for the bake sale this year,” she says. “And on non-baking, I guess I’m good. School’s pretty hard this year. I mean not for Cady, because she’s smart. And some of it’s okay. I like doing English this year. We’re reading drama, and at least I like drama. It’s easier to read than books…”

Janis nods along, her attention held by the blonde in front of her until movement outside her open door catches her eye; Maddie passes in her pink sweatshirt and her slippers, probably on her way to the longue. The minute Janis catches her eye, she waves at her and Janis instinctively waves back. Karen picks up on it, looking behind her and finding Maddie outside.

“Oh, hey,” Maddie says awkwardly, having not picked up on the other girl’s presence.

“Oh, Maddie, this is Karen,” Janis introduces. “She’s one of my friends from school. Karen, this is Maddie.”

“Oh… hi.” Karen’s voice is a lot quieter, more careful than it was a second ago and Janis hopes Maddie doesn’t notice. There’s a clear difference between the two of them. For a moment, her heart clenches, and Karen’s ‘harmlessness’ flies out the window. But then Karen holds out the muffin box and her face is as sunny and warm as ever. “Do you want a muffin? I baked them for Janis, but you’re Janis’ friend.”

“Oh, thanks!” Maddie scurries in and takes one from the box. “Cool. I have to go, I told someone I’d hang out with them today, but I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, short stack.”

“Bye, Maddie,” Karen says.

“Bye Janis. Bye Muffin Girl.”

Janis chuckles as she leaves, but when she sees Karen’s face, she sees the smile fading a little and worry creeping into her eyes. She can’t say she doesn’t understand it, even if she doesn’t like it. When she first met Maddie, despite liking her, she saw the reality. Losing her hair, wearing pyjamas more than her actual clothes. Janis at least passes for healthy, but how long will that last?

“How old is she?” Karen asks.

“She’s thirteen.” The word catches in Janis’ throat.

“Oh,” is all Karen says, but everything else is implied. Oh the poor little girl with cancer. In a while, that might be how people see her. That might be how people already see her. Poor little Janis with cancer.

“So you were saying about the school?” Janis asks. She taps Karen’s shoulder to bring her back. “About English class? Damian said you guys are doing Shakespeare this year.”

“Yeah we are,” she agrees. It takes another second for her to tear her gaze away from the door, but at least she’s back on track. “It’s a little weird, but I like it. I like watching it even more, Mrs J put a DVD of it on for us and it was so good! I wish we could just write a paper on what it looks like instead of having to read it. That would be so much easier.”

“What play is it?”

“Um, I can’t remember the name, but these two girls go into the forest and one dresses like a boy,” Karen explains. “But it’s really good. Like, sunshine emoji and flower emoji good. You know?”

“Um… explain that to me,” Janis says. “Just so I understand.”

“Okay, so you know how I express myself with emojis? Well, there’s a system of emojis for how I rate stuff. So sunshine emoji is at the top, if it’s funny and it makes you think about stuff. Then flower emoji means-”

If there’s one thing no-one can deny about Karen, it’s how much she can talk. A lot of it is above most people, but Karen can fill in the gaps in a conversation like no-one else. And Janis has never appreciated that as much as she does right now when she doesn’t really feel like talking. She picks at the muffin in her lap, forcing her focus onto Karen and her emojis, not on the way her throat feels tight and stiff or how her gut is churning and it feels like something it pulling at her insides. She focuses on Karen, not the feeling of something slithering up her throat.

She bites down on the inside of her cheek, hoping Karen doesn’t notice. She forces herself to make little comments every now and then to keep up the pretence, even though talking, or any movement, is a greater task than it should be, and comes with a risk. Cold sweat trickles down her back as she wills her stomach to settle. For a moment there’s a flare of indignance because this is her body and it will cooperate with her, damn it. But she dampens it quickly as it only adds to the nausea rolling over her. She takes in a deep breath. She can keep it down. She can keep this down. She can-

She can’t.

“Sorry, Karen.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before she throws herself off the bed and bolts to the bathroom. She collapses to her knees just in time to grip the sides of the toilet and empty the contents of her stomach into the bowl. In those seconds, nothing else exists but her and the foul taste in her mouth and the tension in her shoulders as she heaves once again. She coughs and gags that the aftertaste in her mouth, simply relieved that it’s over. Her eyes burn and tears mix with sweat as the run down her face. She almost forgets where she is and what was happening before, until she spies Karen’s face in her peripheral vision and realises that the other girl has her hair held back from her face. She tries to thank her, but the words die on her lips and all Karen gets for her troubles is a weak, shaky half-smile.

“Are you okay?” she asks in a small voice. “I um… I-I went and got help.”

Oh, joy.

“Come here, love,” another voice says in her ear, kind and soft but not entirely familiar. Janis has probably met her before but the name escapes her. The unnamed nurse helps her stand and she has no choice but to let her lead her over to her bed, Karen just behind them. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she manages in between pants. “I’m fine, it was just…” She shrugs, or at least she tries to. “You know.”

“I think… I think it might have been my fault,” Karen pipes up. Her eyes glisten under the lights and her breath is short and quick and catches in her throat. “I think it was the muffins I brought.” That’s all that’s needed to set Karen off, mascara tinged tears running down her pink cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” the nurse tells her. Janis should be glad for it, since she’s too exhausted to speak for herself, but instead she has to avert her eyes to stop the feeling of helplessness spiking. She spent too long finding her voice not to use it.

“It’s not your fault, Karen,” she forces herself to say, wincing against her raw throat. “It wasn’t the muffins. I just… it happens. Sometimes the meds just make me sick.”

“But I thought they were meant to stop you from being sick,” Karen says, wiping at her eyes. Janis pats the spot on the bed next to her and takes her shoulder.

“They are,” she says. “And this just means they’re doing their job. I don’t get sick all the time, just sometimes. It’s not that often anyway.” She crosses her fingers behind her back. “Trust me, once this is all over and we’re back to normal, you can bake me all the muffins you want. Okay?”

Karen nods and before Janis has a chance to think of anything else, throws her arms around her and crushes her in a tight hug. Janis hugs her back, meaning to comfort her but getting some in return. She’ll say this for the shiny plastic, she gives great hugs, and she’s great to give hugs to.

Over the other girl’s shoulder, Janis watches the nurse flush the toilet before leaving, most likely to tell her mom or Doctor Wiley about what happened. Or both.

Karen sticks around for a little while, but Janis’ tiredness and her discomfort means she texts her mom to come pick her up sooner than she would have liked. She lets Janis keep the muffins and gives her another hug before she leaves.

“I hope you’re okay soon,” she whispers. Janis almost replies, ‘me too’, but has the common sense to settle for ‘thank you’ instead.

She leans back on the pillow once she’s gone, cherishing the short time she has to herself before Doctor Wiley inevitably comes in to check on her. She runs her hand through her hair, her mind going back to what she promised Karen. That once she’s back to normal, she can bake all the muffins she wants, and the unspoken assurance that it’ll all be fine then. It’s easy to promise, especially to Karen, but it’s less only now dawning on her that normal may be different that it was before.