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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story I have been slowly working on for a creative writing class, I haven't gotten too far so don't judge me too harsh. It's the beginning of a work in progress

Submitted: October 17, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 17, 2011




I woke up to the smell of burning toast wafting in my face.

“Wake up, sweetheart!” my mom shouted in my ear as she plopped down on my bed. I rolled over to avoid the light gushing through my uncurtained window.

“Ugh, mom, Why? I was having a perfectly good dream about Cat Woman and money baths.” I scooted over pushing my mom off the bed.

“Okay, eww, TMI, kiddo.”

“What’d I say about your “cool kids words?” I asked her raising my eyebrows.

 “Whatever, kid, get dressed.” She says as pops up from my bed, slaps me on the leg and walks out the door.

“Crazy.” I mumbled as I stand up and grab a pair of jeans and a t-shirt off my floor and sniff them for ripeness. I slip on my tennis shoes as I stumble out the door and shout “I love you!” at my mom.

Woo-hoo. School. I think as I pull to my most favorite place in the world, Gerald R. Ford High School, home of the below average Fighting Wombats. I park my Blazer and jog to my first period class when I see her leaning against a locker down the hall. Briana Taylor with her crazy good looks is the only thing that makes high school less craptastic. I don’t know how I got her. I mean for Stan Lee’s sake I don’t know how a comic book toting, computer nerd who works at the Taco Hole gets to date her.  I work at the Taco Hole,  a place where acid washed jeans are still the epitome of fashion and hammer pants still have their place in society. She’s Briana Taylor, captain of the cheerleading squad, student body president and gorgeous. I look her way once more. She is gorgeous. I slide up to my locker, put in my combination, 31,41,59. Every nerd’s favorite number, pi. When up walks Mack my best friend since 3rd grade when he helped me beat up Isabella Hayworth because she stole my lunch money.

“Hey, dude what’s up? You get that AP Calc done?” He leans against the locker next to mine and scratches his curly ginger hair.

“Nope not yet. I’m gonna do it during free period.”

“Okay.” He answers looking around the hall. “Ummm, Noah? You’re still going out with Bri right?”

“Uh, yeah, for like 5 months now. You know that.” I look over at him from my messy locker only to find that he is looking down the hall towards Briana’s locker.

“Does she know that?” I look at her and realize that she has a jock attached to her face. I slam my locker door angrily and walk furiously toward them.

 Chase Lewis is a dirty rotten bastard. Okay, don’t attack, there has to be a reasonable explanation. He’s choking on a gumball and she’s just giving him mouth to mouth. Unlikely. She’s trying to send him into anaphylactic shock by kissing him after eating a PB & J which he’s deathly allergic to. Improbable. Shit now I’m going to have to confront this guy. This 6’5” brick wall.

I walk over to the locker they are leaning against grab his shoulder turn him around, punch him square in the eye socket and break my hand.

“What the fuck, dude?” Chase grunted as he grabbed his eye.

“Ow, shit, owwwww, my hand hurts.” I yelped as I hopped up and down holding onto my hand.

“Noah, what are you doing? Seriously what are you doing?

“Jesus, Briana, what am I doing? What am I doing? I’m repeating this sentence with inflection on different words. What the eff are you making out with this tool bag for?”

“Well,” she answered me “I was gonna tell you…I’ve kinda been seeing Chase…”

“Seeing Chase? That didn’t look like seeing.” I say was I watch her run her arm over the shoulder of his cocky lettermen jacket and choke down some bile that has been rising to the top of my throat this whole time. “For how long?”

She looks at me with the “I-just-ran-over-your-puppy” look then shoots a glance at the ground looking guilty and she rocks back and forth on her heels and whispers “ About three weeks.” as Dick Face Chase puts his arm around her.

“Hey, man I’m real sorry, it just like happened.” He said looking like Captain America’s douchey brother.

“Nope, don’t you even say a word to me a-hole. It’s not your fault, it’s hers but you know what I don’t even care any more, fuck all of you!” I shout as turn around and walk out the side door to the parking lot. On the way home I stop at the local Juice Caboose and grab a large Nectarine Kiwi Float and drowned my sorrows in it. I pull up to my house walked down the hall to the living room and throw myself down on the couch. Ugh I mumble as I grab for the TV remote and flip on the Food Network.  

After a considerably long and much needed nap I woke up to the shrill ring of the telephone. “Hello?”

“Noah Wyatt Freeman! Did you punch a kid in the face today? Your Principal Ms. Hamby called me and said that you punched someone in the face; please tell me it wasn’t you. I can’t believe you would do something like that. Oh, God, Noah what in the hell were you thinking? You’ve never done anything like this before! What could this kid have possibly done to you that made you hit him?”

“Well, the guy’s a douche Mom.”

“And?” My mom asked angrily.

“And what? He’s a douche who makes out with other guy’s girlfriends!”

“Oh, Noah, I told you that Briana girl was no good. What a harlot!”

“I know, Mom. I was there.”  I say beginning to get the sniffles.

“Ha, ha. What a comedian! I know you were there I just…ugh. That was stupid, why would you punch the guy in the face?”

“Because I felt like it, okay, and yes I know it was stupid you should feel how stupid my hand feels right now.” I say to her while looking at my busted up hand that now looks like a blown up rubber glove.

“For the love of God, Noah! You broke your hand?” she shouted at me through the phone.

“I think so. Is it a good thing if my hand looks as fat as one of Santa Claus’s double chins?”

“Have you called the doctor’s office?” She asked frantically. Now she’s all worried I think as she

rambles on about gangrene and amputation. Don’t over react or anything mom.

“I’ll call the doctors office and make an appointment. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay just make sure you do it soon because I am not taking you to the ER, we don’t have that kind of money laying around anymore not since your Dad died. “
“Mom, I know, call the doctor lady, I got it see you later.” I say as I hang up the phone and plop back down on the couch. I lift up my hand and stare at it for a bit until I decide that it has its own pulse and call the doctor.

An hour or so later I get up of our lumpy couch and drive over to the doctor’s office. As I walk into the waiting room I smell the awful over clean scent that the hospital always has. I plop down in the hideous bowling carpet covered chairs and wait for my mom to arrive and begin her lecture again. At about 5 o’clock I hear an engine shudder to a stop and a car door slam shut.

“Noah?” She asks as she walks in unwrapping the scarf from around her neck.

“Over here, mom.” I say gesturing for her to sit next to me. She grabs my hand and starts to inspect my hand like she knows exactly what she’s looking for. She silently shakes her head and makes a huffing sound and grabs a decade old magazine off the coffee table in the middle of the room and parks her self back in the chair.

“Noah Freeman?” The nurse asks as she looks over my chart.

“How are you doing today, Noah?”

“Not too bad, you know a broken hand here or there what you gonna do?” I answer her. The nurse, Belinda, takes my vitals and ushers her and my mom into Examination Room B and  tells me that the doctor will “ be with you shortly”,30 minutes and numerous creative ways to chop my hand off later the doctor finally walks in.

“Hello, Noah, I expect, and you must be Elle Freeman?” He asks eyeing my mom. What a weirdo. I think as the little Asian dude, who looks like Mr. Miyagi walks in in and immediately checks out my mom . “So, how are things with the hand? Let me check it out?” He takes a hold of my hand and looks it over. “Well,” he says prodding at my hand “it looks broken to me but we’ll do some x-rays and some blood work and get you out of here as soon as possible. Sound good?” he asks as he scribbles on the chart and gets up off of his swivel chair. “I’ll go get a tech and have them take your x-rays.” He explains as he walks out the door.

After he leaves the tech comes in takes some blood and takes me to the radiology center. After enough x-rays to make me glow in the dark, I am herded back into the examination room and wait for the results of the tests. Eventually Belinda and the doctor enter the room and begin work on my cast. after they are done imprisoning my arm and giving me the spiel about not showering with the cast uncovered.  Or not sticking pencils inside the cast to itch it Belinda left.  Doctor Miyagi sits down, writes a couple of things down on the chart and says that he is going to send me to another doctor.  

“Noah, I’m going to send you to a pediatric oncologist. I’ve seen some discrepancies in your WBC  numbers in your blood work and considering your family history of AML I just want you to get checked out.”

“Wait, an oncologist? Why do we need to be sent there? I mean I understand that we have a history of these types of things but do you really think that he needs to be sent to the oncologist if it’s just a slight discrepancy in his white cell count or whateveryacallit?” my mom asks him.

“I don’t think that you should worry too much about it. I just want to have Noah checked out. Noah, what do you think about that?” 

“Sounds good to me, Doc.” I say to him as I get up, shake his hand and walk out the door. “Mom? Are you all right?” we walk up to the parking garage elevator and hit the up button.


“I asked if you were all right.”

“Yeah, honey I’m fine, just a little worried.”  She says as she side steps into the elevator after it dings. On the way up we listen to a Muzak version of Stairway to Heaven.  Thank you, Muzak! The sound track to my life. My mom and I ride awkwardly up to our level and search for our car. Once we get inside my mom’s Jeep she turns on the radio and we don’t speak the whole way home. As we pull into the garage, I finally need to say something I can’t hold it in any longer and the whole silence is a virtue thing is starting to creep me out.

“So what if I have cancer, Mom? What are we going to do about it?”

“Noah! We’ll do whatever it takes to make you healthy again. You don’t know that you have cancer yet the doctor said it was just a possibility.”

“Just a possibility! Mom, it’s the same type of cancer that Grandma and Aunt Louise died from. You know it’s more than just a possibility.  It’s a likelihood.”

“Noah, don’t say that, you can’t have it! I mean we’ve been through enough, with your Dad gone.Plus your aunt and grandma dying this last year, we deserve a break! It’s just not fair.”

“Mom, life isn’t fair and you should be the one who is telling me that! You’re the parent I’m supposed to be learning something from you not the other way around!” I shout at her and angrily get out of the car.

“Noah, don’t walk away from me! Come on, we need to talk some things over!”

“Mom, I don’t want to talk some things over! I just wanna go to bed. I’m done. I’m tired. I feel like crap and I’m going to bed.” I start to feel a little nauseated, feel the bile taste in my mouth again, and make for the bathroom. I puke, hurl and spew out everything that I have ever eaten. Once I feel the nausea subside I rinse my mouth out and brush my teeth until the taste of vomit ridden pizza and Red Bull is completely obliterated. Knock, knock. Outside the bathroom door, I wipe my face off and crack open the door. As the door creeks open I look at my mom, I can tell that she has been crying, her nose is red and her eye makeup is running, she holds a crinkled up Kleenex in her hand.  She sniffles and asks 

“Are you okay, hon?” She takes my hand, leads me to the couch in the living room and sits down pulling me with her.

“Yeah, I think I am now, I just want to go to bed. Okay?” I ask her standing up and making my way towards the door. As I make my way up stairs I hear my mom sniffle some more, start coughing and turn on Lifetime.  An hour or so later I’m still lying in bed, awake.  I can hear the sound of one of Lifetime’s cheesy movies playing so I groan and roll out of bed. I walk down the hall way turning on the light as I go, I stumble into a table in the hallway knocking over an old family picture. Finally I make it to the living room; my mom is slumped over in her favorite chair with a bowl of pop corn spilled over her lap, Tv blaring and she is completely oblivious. I gently nudge her on the shoulder. No response. Okay. I nudge her touch harder. Still nothing. Okay.

“Mom?” I whisper pulling the remote out of her hand. Dang she’s got a tight grip on that. I think as I yank it out of her hand and turn off the tube. Suddenly she mumbles some unintelligible words and shakes her head from side to side.

“Mom? Mom, wake up. Mom, it’s like 3:30 wake up, its time to go to bed.”

“Huh?” She finally asks groggily as she turns her head toward me. “Noah, honey what’s wrong?”

“Nothing mom I just think that you ought to get up to bed.” She looks at her watch and realizes she can’t see it because were in the dark.

“What time is it?” she asks squinting at her watch again then looking at the grandfather clock that sits in the corner of our living room. “It’s 3:30? Crap I have to get up in like 2 hours.” She starts to get up out of the chair but can’t quite make it so I grab a hold of her arm, help her up, brush the popcorn off of her and lead her towards the stairs.  We slowly make our way up the stairs one step at a time, I open up her door and lead her to the end of her bed.

“Thanks, hon.” She says taking my hand as I pull her sheets down so she can  crawl in bed. Two fluffed pillows and a glass of water later and she is ready for bed.

“Night, Mom.”

“Good Night, Noah. I love you.” She whispers as I begin to close the door.

“Love you too, Mom. I’ll see you in the morning, Okay?”

“Okay.” She says with a sigh as I quietly close the door and walk down the hall back into my room.  I lie down in my comfy bed and drift off to sleep. When I wake I hear the sound of the coffee pot running, bacon sizzling, and smell some pancakes too. Mmmmmmm. My stomach grumbles. I hop out of bed with a surprising amount of agility and make it for the stairs. Taking two at a time, I blunder into the kitchen only to see my dad standing over the stove.

“Morning kiddo, want some pancakes?”

“Ummm, sure, Dad what are you doing here?” I ask looking him over, he looks the same as ever, cargo shorts, an old ratty t-shirt, ridiculous patterned crew socks and 20 year old slippers.  He keeps his back turned to me and flips over a pancake.

“What da you mean? ‘What am I doing here?’” he chuckles as he flips the pancake again. He waits another 30 or so, silently slaps the pancake down on an orange plate. Turns around and slides the plate in front of me. Playing with my fork I grab hold of the plate and douse my pancake with syrup. I take I few bites only to realize that it is still quiet and look up at my dad. I shrink back from the counter and fall back off the bar stool on to the linoleum.

“Holy shit! Dad, what happened to your face?” I look at him again only to see that it is still the same. Sunk in, and black with empty holes for eyes.

“Noah, what’s wrong? There’s nothing wrong with my face.” He says running his hand over his jaw. 

“What do you mean nothings wrong with it? You look like effing King Tut!” I shout pointing at him, trying not to feel sick.

“Noah, just sit down and eat your food. Okay?” He says putting another pancake on my plate. I look at the plate feeling sick .


“Morning, sweetie!” My mom says as she walks into the kitchen still buttoning her shirt. She walks over to the coffee maker and kisses my dad on the cheek as she goes.

“Morning, hon.” My dad says as he flips another pancake and some bacon onto a plate for my mom.

“Good morning, Noah. Well, aren’t you quiet today?” She says to me with a quizzical look. I am still standing there in my kitchen, with my missing but presumed dead father. Okay this can not be real.  I think to myself. He’s gone. I know that. He left when I was little. He wouldn’t come back. He was depressed, he left, he wouldn’t come back, never. My mom is still looking at me. I should say something, she expects me to say something. This isn’t real or is it? Crap, stupid cancer. Maybe I’m in an episode of The Twilight Zone? Or in an alternate universe? Nope that can’t be it. What am I going to do? Holy shit, I have cancer. I drop to the ground, and begin to hyperventilate.

“Noah, chill out.” My mom says looking at me like I need a straight jacket.

“Chill out! Chill out ? Mom, I have cancer, I’m gonna die  before I ever get to drink or crash my car or go to college!” She begins to laugh and soon my dad joins in too they are both laughing hysterically. They laugh so hard that their eyes begin to bleed, as well as their noses and mouths, but they keep laughing as if nothing is happening. I stand up and that’s when I hear it a buzzing sound in my ear. I jolt awake. Okay, it was just a dream. I think and realize that I am sweating. Holy hell that was a freaky dream. I can’t seem to get over the fact that my dad was in it, I haven’t had a dream about him since I was about 10. Why would I be having a dream about him, now? I ask myself. Oh, yeah, I have cancer. I forgot. Fantastic, I drag myself up out of bed and hobble down stairs hoping not to find the same thing as in my dream. Hoping he’s not there and he isn’t. Just an empty kitchen, no one inside. Thank God.

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