Part 23 (1/2)
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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4/17/13 8:57 PM.
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 s.h.i.+rt 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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4/17/13 8:57 PM.
”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.”