Trust And Hope

Chapter 9

"Oh my gosh," Richelle grinned at me as she paced back and forth in the kitchen. Her left leg was set in an Aircast boot, but she had lost the crutches about a week prior. "I am so happy." She stopped and looked at me. "I took a shower today and I wasn't tired afterward." She grinned at me. "Oh my gosh, I am now realizing how low of a bar that is." She shrugged. "Well, I did it. And now I'm proud of myself."

I stood, shoving water bottles and snack bars in my backpack while listening to her rave about not being tired after taking a shower. Which, for her, really was an accomplishment. She hadn't had much energy to do pretty much anything in the past months with chemotherapy and everything.

She had a week and a half before her next chemotherapy treatment, so Mom had decided to take a break from everything and go up to a beach house in Galveston for a few days.

"Guys!" Gabby bounced into the kitchen, her face practically shining. "Mom and Dad are loading up the car! Come on!"

"Alright, let's go!" I pumped my fist in the air excitedly and followed Gabby. Richelle ran after us. My siblings usually aren't this... how do you say it... friendly with each other? Normally, if we're around each other, we annoy each other until we're ready to scream. Not to mention, for the past six or seven months while on chemo Richelle had no desire to even talk to us, much less do anything with us. But now we were going to the beach, she was feeling better, and Mom was making her spend time with us instead of sleeping, now that she could.

"Girls, where are your suitcases?" Mom asked, shoving a very small suitcase in the back. If I were going to guess, I would say it was all of Richelle's medications. She had two bottles of steroids, four bottles of painkillers, innumerable nausea medications, and even emergency painkillers in case something got really bad. She had more medication than both of our parents put together.

"You loaded our stuff last night, remember?" Richelle said, typing something out on her phone. Teenagers and their phones.

I looked at the sunrise. Six o'clock. It wasn't even seven. I'd been up since four-thirty.

"Oh," Mom touched her temple. "That's right. Sorry."

Richelle shrugged. "I call backseat."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course, she calls backseat."

Gabby snorted. "You expected something else?"

"Not really," I shrugged and climbed in the van after her. Sure enough, Richelle sat in the back, her leg resting on the seat next to her, her backpack on the floor below her.

She looked up as I stared. "Problem?"

"You have all that space," I gape. "No fair."

Richelle leaned forward, bringing her head close to mine. "Do I need to spell it out for you? C-A-N-C-E-R."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

"Let her have it, Sadie," Dad said from the front. "You can have it when we take a rest break."

"What?" Richelle protested. "But what about me? Broken leg, remember?"

"Richelle Jane, watch your tone," Mom said. "If your father said something, you'll just have to deal with it."

I smirked at Richelle triumphantly. She stuck her tongue out at me and leaned back in her seat.

"But," Dad said, holding up a hand. His eyes glinted mischievously. "Because you two decided to argue, Gabby gets it the whole way back."

"What?" Richelle demanded.

"Not fair!" I protested.

"Exactly!" Richelle agreed. "Gabby didn't even ask for it!"