Grief swept over fifteen year old Carter as she listened to the words spinning in her head. Tears swimming in her baby blue eyes, she couldn’t understand the feeling of utter heartbreak ripping through her chest. Light brown hair stuck to her neck and forehead, waving recklessly, from the sheet of sweat that encompassed her from the physical exertion she preformed minutes before. Through the welling tears in her large, round eyes, she saw the fuzzy image of another perfectly synchronized cheerleading team taking the blue mat below. Physical and emotional aches spread throughout her body in aches as she sat bawling on the hard school bleachers, heavy head resting on her coach’s shoulder. Body shaking with sobs, she loosely wrapped her arms around the young coach who held Carter firmly in her own. Disheartening news plagued both girls, one with the possible loss of someone close and the other with the fact that she couldn’t protect the girl from this news.

Now we move three months later, to an early January day where the weather is irregularly mild. Two teenage girls perch on rod iron chairs beneath a forest green umbrella in a bustling outdoor mall. Two story, beige buildings surrounded them, casting shade across the small outdoor sitting area. The sticky air is hot with humidity but harnessed by a zephyr that runs by every few minutes.

“Hey,” I say, pushing a piece of long brunette hair behind my small ear.

“Hi,” the brunette with auburn highlights threading through wavy, long hair pronounces in a strong Texan accent, smiling happily. Amanda, the older girl, cared deeply for her younger friend and although she towered over Carter with a tall and slim frame, they were much alike in actions and looks.

“What’s up?” I ask, placing my chin in a sweaty palm, elbow digging into the table. My free hand gripped a cool vanilla bean frappe, hot pink nails standing out against the white liquid drink.

“Nothing really,” waving a hand in dismissal at the boring topic. “So you’ve been up in Chicago, huh?”

I nodded solemnly, thinking of the fun week I experienced the week before. “Yeah,” I answered a bit suspiciously at her intentions in the innocent question.

“How - uh - how is he doing?” Amanda stuttered, addressing the large elephant in the room. Tears welled once again in her baby blues as they had done multiple times over the past months since the bad news.

“Uh. He’s fine, I guess. I mean nobody really tells me what’s going on at all.”

“Why?” She questioned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Ya know, the whole you’re way too young ta know this stuff. We shouldn’t worry her. Yada Yada,” my Chicago accent strung high in every word I spat out. Anger blazed beneath innocent eyes at the secrets hidden from my sight. “But, ya know, it’s okay Manders. It’s okay because secrets are easy to uncover.”

Amanda rolled her hazel eyes at my strange nickname before placing a slender hand on my shaking one.

Sympathy swimming in kind eyes, she gazed sadly at me, wanting to reach out but not knowing how. I gave a silent shake of the head, indicating that I didn’t need the unseen words, not hers, not anyones.

“What’s the uh update on him? They gotta have told ya something,” She pestered.

“Uhhhh,” I tried to think back to the haze of my week in bliss. One thing stuck out in my mind, “Um my mom told me they said he could uh he could um could continue to uh smoke.”

“What? Why?” Manders panicked, squeezing my hand. Birds chirped ironically behind her in the bright green trees, soaking in the sweat sunlight as a storm broke inside me. I lost it, completely lost it. Dams of tears in my broken eyes exploded, along with the weeps once stuck in my dry throat.

“Can’t you see the obvious!” I screeched through bawls, though my voice couldn’t reach above a whisper. “He’s at his end! The doctor was telling him that nothing can make it worst.”

My voice ended below a murmur, barely audible, but Amanda still heard. “He’s gonna be fine,” She replied firmly, her voice a comfort to me. “He’s gonna fight this.”

“Yeah, yeah okay. I mean any 70 year old man who smokes daily can beat stage four lung cancer. It’s the easiest thing alive!” I buried my tear stained face in unstable hands as Amanda rubbed my back.

“It’ll be okay. Just cherish the time you have with him now. Okay?”

“Okay,” I promised her, accepting the fate of my future and the loss of someone close.

“I’ll help you through this,” she promised me, voice sincere. I acknowledged her promise and allowed it. She would help me, she would stand by my side through the pain and suffering. She would be there when he could no longer protect me.