Saturday, November 12th

The mirror showed a stranger. A ghost of myself, pale skin stretching over sharp bones. My once-thick blonde hair was nothing but a shadow now, a soft fuzz clinging to my scalp. The vibrant blue of my volunteer shirt hung loose on my frame, the same khaki pants I'd always worn now pooling around my ankles, swallowed by my worn-out hiking boots.

A beanie covered my bald head, and I fumbled with the clasp of my favorite watch, a gift from Pops for my sweet sixteen. It felt loose, like a stranger on my wrist.

I tapped out a text to Noelle, too early for a call. "Can you skip work? Need help @ the shelter." My stomach grumbled, the thought of food almost as repulsive as the chemo coursing through my veins.

Her reply pinged back instantly. "OMG YES." Relief flooded me, followed by a pang of guilt. "Breakfast's on me," I added quickly.

"My car. 5 mins," she replied. Of course, she'd say yes – free food!

I hurried downstairs, the comforting scent of coffee and something citrusy filling the air. Dad and Pops were huddled over the laptop on the sofa, a cheesy 80s song blasting from the TV. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks.

Dad looked up, his eyes searching mine. "You sure you're up for this, Sloane? It's freezing out there," he said, his voice thick with concern.

"I'll be fine, Dad. Bundled up and everything," I chirped, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

A chorus of "Love yous!" and "Be carefuls!" followed me as I grabbed my coat from the closet. Bernard, my furry shadow, whined and nudged his head against my leg.

"Sorry, bud. Too cold for you today," I murmured, scratching behind his ears. "Extra snuggles when I get home, okay?"

The cold air stung my face as I stepped outside, but Noelle's car was already in the driveway, a bright yellow burst of sunshine. Even with the chemo fog clouding my thoughts, her infectious energy was a welcome distraction.

I slid into the passenger seat, a wave of warmth washing over me. The car hummed contentedly, the heater on full blast. "You're a lifesaver," I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep and a lingering nausea.

"So, BK?" Noelle grinned, her eyes sparkling as she reversed out of the driveway. "I'm starving."

The familiar smell of fried food filled the car as we rolled through the drive-thru. My stomach churned, but I ordered anyway. A Chick'N Crisp® Croissan'wich® with egg, and a latte – mostly milk, just a hint of espresso. The thought of strong coffee was enough to make me gag.

For a moment, as we munched on our breakfast sandwiches, I almost forgot about the chemo, the hospital, the fear that clung to me like a shadow. Almost.

The air hummed with nervous energy and a symphony of barks and whines as I entered the animal shelter, a familiar scent of disinfectant mingling with the warmth of fur. Noelle, a bright yellow visitor sticker plastered to her sweater, bounced beside me, her usual peppy self.

"Sloane! You're looking fantastic," Ms. Davison, the shelter manager, greeted me with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "How about you and Noelle start with the smaller dogs? They always need some extra love."

We were led down a long hallway, a chorus of excited yipping making my head pound. Ms. Davison stopped at two adjacent cages. "Here we go – meet Chico and Pippin. They're a bonded pair of Chihuahuas, a little on the anxious side."

Chico and Pippin, leashes tangled and tails wagging furiously, led us in a haphazard dance around the small fenced yard. The burst of fresh air helped a little, but my head throbbed with each yap the little dogs let out.

"So," Noelle chirped, her usual boundless energy a stark contrast to my own weariness, "everything okay with you?"

I took a shaky breath. No more hiding. "Noelle, I need to tell you something," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "But you can't tell anyone yet, okay? Promise?"

Her eyes widened in concern. "Of course, Sloane. You know you can tell me anything."

"There's this clinical trial in Texas. Dr. Ryberg thinks I'd be a really good candidate," I felt the words tumble out of me, a mix of fear and desperate hope. "I'm going to be moving."

"Moving?" Noelle's voice cracked. "Like, away? For how long?"

"Not forever," I rushed to reassure her. "It's just for the trial. I don't know how long it'll be, but I'll be back."

Noelle's usual bubbly demeanor wavered, but a hint of it remained. "Well, at least there's that," she said, forcing a smile. "Texas – that's a long way to go, Sloane."

"I know," I murmured, a pang of guilt twisting in my gut. "We still have a couple of weeks together – let's make them count!"

"You know it!" Noelle's energy began to spark back to life. "Epic sleepover tonight?" Her eyes were already dancing with plans.

"Does Ms. Davison know yet?" she asked, a hint of worry returning to her features.

"Not yet," I sighed. "I'll tell her after the shift." I glanced down at the Chihuahuas, now playfully wrestling on the frosty grass. At least someone was having a good time.

Time seemed to blur as we walked dogs, gave out treats, and even managed to teach a stubborn beagle how to sit. Chico and Pippin, exhausted from their adventure, curled up contentedly in our laps for a while. The simplicity of their affection brought a much-needed smile to my face.

Finally, my shift ticked towards its end. "Four o'clock," I announced to Noelle, a bittersweet relief washing over me.

"I'll warm up the car!" Noelle declared as we headed toward the reception area, her energy still inexhaustible. "You go tell Ms. Davison."

My steps felt heavy as I made my way to Ms. Davison's office. A lump formed in my throat as I knocked softly.

"Sloane, come in, come in!" Ms. Davison's voice was warm and welcoming as always.

I perched on the edge of a chair, my fingers twisting nervously. The words I'd rehearsed all afternoon stumbled out in a rush. About Texas, the trial, leaving.

Ms. Davison's face softened with a mixture of sadness and understanding. She reached across the desk, her hand covering mine. "Oh, Sloane," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "We'll miss you dearly, but this is wonderful news. We'll all be rooting for you."

A wave of warmth washed over me as she pulled me into a comforting hug. "Your spot here will be waiting," she reassured me. "Whenever you're ready to come back, we'll have a volunteer shirt with your name on it."

Outside, the Mini Cooper hummed cheerfully, Noelle blasting some cheesy pop song and dancing goofily behind the steering wheel. Despite the weight of everything, a flicker of hope ignited within me. Texas felt less daunting, filled with the promise of brighter days and a chance to fight back.

As soon as the car door closed, Noelle whipped out her phone. “Okay, sleepover supplies!” she declared. “Giant pizzas? Candy mountain? Ridiculous amounts of popcorn?”

I giggled, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. “Better text Dad and Pops and warn them of impending chaos,” I said, pulling out my own phone.

Before I could type, Noelle was already in full-on group chat mode. “EMERGENCY ALERT,” she typed, a flurry of exclamation points following. “Sloane’s having an epic sleepover. Her place at 8. Maekynzie, Emory, Tinsley – this is not optional!”

A cascade of excited replies lit up the screen, promises of snacks and fuzzy pajamas filling the chat. A warmth spread through me, a counterpoint to the persistent chill that seemed to have settled in my bones. No matter what lay ahead, I had these friends – loud, messy, fiercely loyal – in my corner.

After Noelle’s text onslaught, the afternoon became a whirlwind of activity. We stopped at a grocery store, the aisles echoing with our laughter as we made ridiculous selections. Chocolate bars the size of my head? Check. Bags of gummies in every imaginable shape and flavor? Double check. A ridiculous number of sodas, because… why not?

It felt like rebellion – a defiant act against the seriousness that had consumed my life these past few months.

Back at my house, we transformed the living room into a fortress of blankets and pillows. The scent of old pizza boxes mixed with the sugary promise of new junk food. Dad and Pops peeked in, shaking their heads but smiling as we built our haphazard empire.

As dusk painted the sky in soft shades of orange and purple, the doorbell rang. It was a parade of familiar faces, each clutching bags of silliness and offering hugs that squeezed a bit too tight. The ache in my chest, ever-present, eased with each friend that walked through the door.

There was a comfort in the mundane, in the ridiculous arguments over which movie to watch and the way Emory always stole half my popcorn. Tonight, the cancer, the hospitals, the endless waiting – all of it felt a little further away. I wasn’t just the girl with the stupid disease – I was Sloane, surrounded by the most amazing, ridiculous group of friends a girl could ask for.

Laughter filled the room, then simmered into a comfortable hum. We were sprawled across the blanket-fortress, a tangled mess of limbs and hair, lost in the cheesy, predictable plot of the rom-com playing on the TV. It felt like a lifetime ago since a carefree movie night wasn’t overshadowed by the specter of my illness.

A beat of silence fell, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of popcorn. It felt like a loaded pause, a question hanging heavy in the air. Then, Tinsley’s voice cut through the cozy quiet, “So, last sleepover, you told us you had cancer,” her words low and serious, her eyes fixed on mine with a concern that made my throat tighten.

The warmth from the popcorn and the movie faded, replaced by a familiar chill. I could feel Noelle tense beside me, and Emory paused mid-reach for another handful of popcorn. The weight of the secret I’d been clinging to for weeks pressed down on me, threatening to suffocate the fragile sense of normalcy we’d built for the night.

Maekynzie gasped, the air whooshing out of her lungs. “Sloane, are you dying?”

I took a shaky breath, the knot in my throat threatening to choke me. “There’s a clinical trial,” I began, their gazes burning into me. “Dr. Ryberg thinks I’d be a good fit. But…” My voice trailed off. “It’s in Texas. We’re moving. It’s only temporary,” I added hastily. “And Chandler and his dad are coming with us.”

A ripple of sadness passed through Maekynzie, Emory, and Tinsley, but beneath it, I sensed their support. They wanted what was best for me, even if it meant a tearful goodbye.

In the corner, Stetson shifted uncomfortably, the creak of the floorboards drawing Noelle’s attention. Their eyes locked, and a silent conversation seemed to spark between them. Suddenly, he was on his knees before her, all awkward teenage angles and earnest expression.

“Noelle, I know this isn’t exactly the greatest timing,” Stetson said, his voice thick with nerves, “but I’d kick myself forever if I left without saying this… will you be my girlfriend?”

The room hushed, the forgotten movie a background hum. Noelle stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. Then, a small, mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “It’s about time,” she whispered.

Stetson’s face erupted into a grin, pure relief washing over him. He leaned forward, their lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. Emory let out a celebratory whoop, the goofy sound breaking the tension, while Maekynzie sniffled, tears glistening on her cheeks.

My own heart swelled – hope and wistfulness intertwining. Change was in the air, bittersweet and uncertain. But woven through it all were the threads of friendship, love, and the promise of new beginnings – a heady mix even the flicker of fear couldn’t extinguish.