Thirteen-year-old Laney is overjoyed to learn her mother in pregnant.  Months later that joy turns to resentment.  Her mother discovers she has an aggressive form of breast cancer and decides to delay treatment until after the baby is born.  How can Laney possibly accept her mother's decision as well as the consequences that follow?

During this trying time, Laney must also come to terms with being thirteen.  Laney's humor and, sometimes, her desperation are evident in how she deals with the ins and outs of middle school life.  As the days of Laney's unforgettable seventh grade year go by, she learns more about herself, those around her, and the choices people make.

CHAPTER 1

Something was wrong. I could feel it. Something was terribly wrong. My back ached from sitting on the grungy waiting room chair, and my head hurt from worrying. It had been over two hours since Mom went in to see the doctor, and I had read everything left on the table including a Newsweek from 2001. My stomach growled, but no one was around to hear it.

I inspected my fingernails and let out a long sigh. For the hundredth time, I wished I had a more interesting nervous habit, like Dad’s tendency to tug on his right earlobe or Mom’s need to play with the locket around her neck. Nailbiting was so unoriginal. I put my hands in the front pockets of my jeans and firmly told myself to keep them there.

I sighed. This waiting room was nothing like the ones on TV. Instead of plants and background music, it had yellowing walls and wobbly tables. Worst of all was its assortment of mismatched floral pictures. Wow, those pictures were ugly. The colors looked artificial and the arrangements somehow seemed too perfect. They were the sort of pictures that would have fit in great in my crazy Aunt Olivia’s living room.

In a desperate attempt to clear my thoughts of my aunt, I sat down and propped one leg over the other. I wriggled my fingers out of my pockets and drummed them against the bottom of my worn flip-flops. My gaze zoomed to the inner side of my left shoe. In letters so small that only I could clearly make them out was “LC + AC” (Laney Curtis plus Andy Carter). No one else—especially Andy!—knew about it. I kissed the tip of my index finger, and brushed it against my tiny declaration.

I was embarrassed to admit it, but my crush on Andy began in the fifth grade. He gave me his brownie at lunch one day, and I was sold. That was two years ago. Yes, for more than seven hundred long days, I had drooled over Andy Carter from afar. I heaved a sigh, decided I was pathetic, and closed my eyes.

I’m not sure how long I sat and reflected upon every memory I had ever had about Andy, but it took the sky’s low rumbling to shake me from my thoughts. This time, like many others, a force of nature was required to take my mind off Andy. I gave my shoe a final loving pat, and turned to look out the window.

Outside was a typical, weather-crazy Kansas day. Only an hour ago our town had been lit up in summer sunshine, but I was fascinated with the change. My hand reached for the cool glass that separated me from the approaching storm, and I felt my insides jump.

Just like that, I went from average waiting room resident to Laney Curtis, adventure seeker. I eyed the big-haired receptionist. Yes! Her attention was on her paperwork instead of on me, and I almost smiled. It was nice to see that someone had a little trust in an unsupervised thirteen-year-old. Carefully, I popped the latch, eased the window open, and inhaled. Instead of rain, however, I took in a healthy, familiar whiff of soap and pine trees. Only one thing smelled better to me than rain.

I spun around. “Dad!”

“Hey there. How’s the prettiest little thing this side of heaven?” Dad kissed the top of my head.

It was good to see his face, and I hugged him hard. With a damp hand he swept my unruly hair from my eyes. His other hand held a single rose.

A rose? Dad was never one for flowers. Suddenly, my heart ached, and I felt a little sick. Why was he here? He never left his insurance office before five unless it was an emergency. That’s it. We were having an emergency. I swallowed hard.

✽ ✽ ✽

Just two months ago, I had waited in a different doctor’s office. Mom and Dad had been trying to have a baby for the past two years and hadn’t had much luck. Finally, a home pregnancy test declared Mom positive, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Mom wanted to hear it from a professional before she would let herself believe it.

When she returned to the waiting room that afternoon, I saw her face, and I knew. I was about to become a sister!

During supper that not-so-long-ago night, I had a hard time not blurting out the news that Mom was pregnant. I had been keeping it a secret for a good three hours. It was unbearable, but Mom made me promise not to tell anyone until Dad knew, and I had an annoying habit called keeping my word. When Dad finally asked, “So, did anything interesting happen to you guys today?” like he did every evening, I nearly choked on my cauliflower.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mom teased. The warm lighting in the dining room made her face radiant.

I had to gulp down some water to prevent the words from spilling out. Dad took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Hmmmm…let me guess. You won the lottery, and I can retire?”

“Nope. Better,” Mom said as she fingered the locket around her neck.

“Laney was discovered at soccer practice, and will be in the next Olympics?”

“Even better,” I joined in, though I had to admit that the idea held great appeal. Dad threw up his hands. “Wow. This has to be good. I give up.”

“We’re going to have a baby!” Mom and I shouted. Dad knocked over his water and his chair trying to get to us. He gathered Mom and me into his arms, and danced us around the room. All the while he sang Joy to the World at the top of his lungs. He probably scared the neighbor’s dog, but we didn’t care. Our small family of three was getting the much-anticipated addition. We were having a baby!

The next few weeks were pure glory. Mom, Dad, and I were seriously caught up in making preparations for the baby’s arrival. Mom gave up reading anything that didn’t have the words “pregnancy,” “expecting,” or “baby” in the title, and Dad tried to overcome his hair gel abuse.

“I want this baby to have a father who knows style,” he’d say.

I even wrote a story about our baby-to-be on my computer. That baby was all we could think about.

Mom called Aunt Olivia and Uncle Norm, as well as every friend or acquaintance she could think of, to share the news. “Guess what!” Mom would begin these conversations. After a brief pause, she’d announce, “We’re going to have a baby!” She then babbled on to whoever was on the line for at least a full ten minutes.

“Well, hoo-rah!” said Uncle Norm. We all knew that would be his response. Hoo-rah! was what my flannel-clad uncle said to everything.

Only Aunt Olivia had anything negative to say. “Are you sure you want another baby—at your age? Babies are a handful, you know.” Aunt Olivia had advice for everyone on every topic. Even though she and Uncle Norm didn’t have children, she felt the need to share her wisdom. This time, like most times, Mom refused to be bothered by her big sister.

Mom even dug out her old maternity clothes that she had worn while pregnant with me. She believed in keeping everything no matter how dated or, in my opinion, how ugly. This included the most ridiculous dress I had ever laid eyes on.

“You actually wore that?!” I shrieked when I saw the green and blue striped mini-dress among the rest of the outfits. “Yes, and we looked adorable in it,” Mom came back, her green eyes shining.

“Oh, Mo-om,” I groaned. “Couldn’t you have at least liked normal colors?”

Mom gave me the once-over. “Oh, like khaki and brown?”

“I happen to like neutrals,” I huffed. “Ah, but green and blue. Now that’s pizzazz.” With that said, Mom wriggled out of her jeans and shirt and into the dress. Her long, curly hair had been thrown into a high ponytail, and she looked about twenty years old.

“Just tell me that you didn’t go out in public in that!” I begged seeing Mom practically drown in that awful dress. She twirled in front of her antique mirror, and gave an exaggerated curtsy.

“I did, and your dad said I was a hot little number in it, too.” Mom tried to sound indignant. Her eyes met mine, and we exploded into laughter.

All my life I had wished to look like my mom. Instead, I was the female version of my father. Don’t get me wrong, my dad was a very attractive man as far as dads go. It’s just that boring brown eyes and straight hair the color of dirty straw are not the finest of qualities that a girl can possess. My skinny, curveless frame and freckled face only enhanced the obvious. I couldn’t turn a guy’s head if my hair were on fire. Once Megan Hannah called me “Plainy-Laney” in front of the entire seventh grade, but no one would ever think of calling me “a hot little number.”

I shouted, “Alleluia!” loud enough for Iowa to hear when she finally took off that horrible mini-dress. Little did I know that it was only the beginning of her performance. Mom proceeded to model her entire collection of maternity wear that was in style just over thirteen years ago, and had me laughing so hard I could barely breathe.

“Phew. Modeling can wear a beautiful woman out,” Mom finally said. As she took off the last of the maternity outfits, she paused. “What’s this?” she said more to herself than to me.

“What’s what?” I asked, still caught up in our fun.

“Oh, nothing,” Mom replied and she hastily threw her regular clothes back on. I noticed her hand slip under her shirt. Her brow furrowed, and she frowned.

✽ ✽ ✽

“Mr. Curtis, Laney. The doctor would like to meet with the two of you now.” The flat voice of the nurse jolted me back to the present. “Follow me, please.”

Wordlessly, Dad and I obeyed. The long hallway to the doctor’s office had smiling faces on its walls. Those of us walking down it, however, did not.

“Here we are.” The nurse tapped on the door then ushered us inside the dimly lit room. My mind only registered one thing upon entering that room. Mom looked terrible. Her smile wavered, and her skin looked gray.

“Hi, you guys,” she said softly. Dad and I just looked at her. We couldn’t take our eyes off of her.

“Please. Sit down,” the doctor said. “We have a lot to discuss.”

I was glad he offered. My legs felt weak. I sank into the chair near the door, and watched Dad take a seat next to Mom. He took her hand and squeezed it. His other hand gripped the rose so hard I thought it would snap in half.

“Dr. Hanson, I’d like to tell them,” Mom said. She turned to Dad and me and breathed in deeply. “A little over a week ago, I noticed I had a lump in my breast and came in to see Dr. Hanson. I thought it was nothing, and didn’t want to worry either of you. Dr. Hanson conducted a thorough exam and discovered another lump. This one was under my arm.” Mom paused and glanced at the doctor.

“Go on.” Dad said, his voice hoarse.

“A couple of days ago, I met with a breast surgeon. She performed a biopsy.” Mom swallowed. She looked at the doctor and then back to Dad and me. “Dr. Hanson called me today with the results. I have breast cancer, and it’s spread to my lymph nodes.”

Fear filled me. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I clamped the useless thing shut. I wasn’t sure what I would’ve said anyhow. Some sick part of me thought that Aunt Olivia would be overjoyed by my inability to speak.

Dr. Hanson cleared his throat. “You should know that radiation while pregnant is out of the question. I can perform a mastectomy once Susan is in her third trimester. That will at least take care of part of the problem.”

Dad’s rose fell from his hand. “How bad is it?” he whispered. He tugged on his ear, but it didn’t offer him any relief.

“It’s...it’s pretty bad.” Mom’s eyes filled. “My form of breast cancer is especially aggressive.”

Numbness worked its way from my toes and up my legs. It settled into my chest, arms, and head. It was a welcome relief. When you’re numb you can’t scream and holler and throw things. You have to sit inside your body with your emotions carefully tucked away. I wasn’t about to let this gray-eyed, bearded-faced doctor see my tears.

“And…and the baby?” Dad questioned.

“Based on the limited research conducted on pregnant women with cancer, the baby should be fine. You should know, however, that pregnancy may make the cancer grow more quickly due to the changing hormonal levels,” Dr. Hanson said. “This leaves all of you with a terrible decision.”

Mom surprised all of us. “The decision is already made. I want to do everything possible to save our baby.”

✽ ✽ ✽

The three of us climbed into the car. Heavy silence. No one sighed or sniffed or spoke. It was uncharacteristic of us, and I wondered if it were possible to suffocate in all that quiet. What a terrible way to go.

I could see it all clearly in my mind. The impact of my untimely death, I mean. My homeroom teacher would have to break the news to everyone in school the next day.

“Class,” Mr. Couric would say as he swabbed a handkerchief across his eyes. “We lost someone very dear to us. Laney Curtis was smothered by silence yesterday.”

Everyone would cry, some would yell, “It’s not fair! It’s just not fair!” A few would get up to speak some kind words about me. Because of their loss, school would have to be cancelled for the rest of the day, possibly even the week. The teachers and my friends would be grateful to have the opportunity to mourn properly. Flags all over town would be at half-mast in honor of me and—

Dad coughed.

Just like that I was back to reality. “I think the doctor is right. Your life comes first, Susan. We can try to have another baby once your cancer is treated.” Dad’s knuckles grew white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

I pressed my hot cheek against the rain-streaked window, and saw our small town of Hays pass by. We passed the downtown movie theater, the library, The Soda Shoppe, and one of the banks. I’d been on this road a thousand times. I watched the rain pelt the helpless mums and marigolds that bordered the street in their fat whiskey barrels. I could guess how they felt. “David, this baby deserves a chance. I can’t take that away. It wouldn’t be fair.” I still hadn’t said anything. My mouth felt as if it were filled with cotton, but I was with Dad one hundred percent. “I just don’t want to risk losing you.”

“David, I don’t intend to get lost.”

Dad sighed.

“I’ve decided something else, too. I don’t want to take chemotherapy until after the baby is born. I know Dr. Hanson said that chemotherapy hasn’t been shown to cause serious problems for the fetus. And I realize the molecules of the drugs used in the second and third trimesters are supposedly too large to pass through the placenta, but still! I want to give this child every chance at being born healthy. I wouldn’t feel right exposing this little person to that poison. No one is even sure if there are any long-term effects on children exposed to chemotherapy in utero. I couldn’t subject my child to those sorts of risks.”

I knew Mom would feel that way. She wouldn’t step on an ant on the sidewalk. She’s the sort of person who’d pull her car to the side of the road and rescue a turtle that wandered into her path. “Jesus, Susan. What about Laney and me? Don’t we count for anything?” Dad asked.

Mom turned to look at me. “David, Laney, I love you both so much. The two of you and this new baby are my whole life. Can’t you see that I have to do this? I couldn’t stand myself if I didn’t.”

Instinctively, I put my hand on Dad’s shoulder. Dad covered it with his own.

“How I wish I would’ve noticed that lump sooner! Dr Hanson said that I’m already in stage three of the disease. I’ve done my research. Most studies show a five-year survival rate of ten percent in pregnant women at this stage. I know I could be a part of that ten percent. I’m a fighter. I can beat the odds.”

Ten percent?! I couldn’t believe I was hearing any of this. As soon as the car pulled into our driveway, I jumped out into the biting rain and shouted, “This can’t be happening! I hate you, Mom, for doing this to us! I hate you!”