part of today your mom doesn’t know about either.”
Everyone in that room seemed to know there was more coming except me.
My fingers tightened around the bedrail.
“What part? What’s happening? Is Alice okay?”
Alice wiped her cheeks and looked at me.
Dr. Malcolm’s expression softened.
And suddenly the costumes didn’t matter anymore.
Because whatever came next had nothing to do with Alice’s birthday party.
Three hours earlier, I’d been trying to convince myself that spending her seventh birthday in the hospital didn’t have to feel like another thing cancer had stolen.
Dr. Malcolm’s expression softened.
Alice had been fighting leukemia for almost a year.
There had been chemo, needles, nausea, blood tests, and days when sitting up took more energy than she wanted anyone to see.
Somehow, she was still the kid who was obsessed with making everyone else smile.
