Indiscretion

15 years ago

“Cool hat.”

The girl frowned. I’d never seen her before, but we were the only two at the bus stop. “What’s so cool about it?”

Uhh… She was the one wearing it, so didn’t she think it was cool, too? I shrugged. “I dunno. I just like how it’s all different-colored denim pieces, I guess.”

It seemed like she was trying to figure out if I was serious or not. But why the hell would I lie? After a long minute, her face softened slightly. “Thanks.”

I nodded and looked around. Where the hell is Ben? If he didn’t hurry up, he was going to miss the bus on the first day of school again this year. Was he shining his shoes or finishing up reading the science textbook he’d checked out for fun from the library this summer?

The girl with the hat looked over. Our eyes met, and she quickly looked away. It happened a second time a minute later, so I attempted to break the ice once again. “You new or something?”

She nodded and pointed down the block. “My mom and I just moved in on Oak Street.”

“What grade are you in?”

“Eighth.”

“Me, too. I’m Dawson, by the way.”

She sort of smiled. I think. “Bailey.”

“The bus is always late the first day, usually the entire week.”

“Oh, okay.”

The first month after we went back to school was usually warm, but today it felt more like mid-July than the first week of September. And the crappy school buses rarely had air conditioning. Most drivers had fans rigged up to the dashboard, but those only pointed to them.

I wiped sweat from my brow. “Aren’t you hot in that hat? I’m freaking roasting.”

Bailey’s face fell. Rather than respond, she turned her back to me and stayed that way while we waited. It was weird, especially because it was just the two of us at the bus stop. Oh-kay then. So much for trying to be nice to the new girl.

Ben ran down the block just as the yellow school bus rumbled to a stop.

“What the hell? I thought you were going to miss the first day.”

He raked a hand through his messy hair. “I was studying and lost track of the time.”

“Studying? What the heck could you be studying? We didn’t even start classes yet.”

“Math. Algebra isn’t going to be easy this year.”

I shook my head and climbed onto the bus behind the new girl. “Why do I hang out with you? You’re such a nerd.”

Ben followed me to the last row. Garrett and Will were already seated. Normally only ninth graders got to sit in the back, but these guys were my teammates, so they made an exception. And Ben didn’t play football, basketball, or baseball like I did, but he’d been my closest friend since I moved here last year, and we stuck together, so he reaped the benefits of a good seat. I guess it was fair since I got to reap the benefits of having a brainiac for a buddy and copy his homework when I didn’t feel like doing mine.

The new girl slid into a seat a few rows ahead of us. She propped her violin case up next to her. I didn’t pay much attention as we made our way to the school, at least until I heard her voice rise and saw her reaching over the seat for something.

“Give me that!”

Lenny Gleason was an overgrown jerk. He held Bailey’s denim bucket hat up in the air with one hand and pointed to her head with the other. “Where did you get your haircut? Lawnmowers R Us?”

I took a closer look at what the hell he was talking about. Bailey had short, brown, frizzy hair, and patches of it were missing. Lenny Gleason was a dick, but he was right, it did look like someone had taken a lawnmower and shaved random spots.

Bailey seemed to be on the verge of crying, so I jumped up and walked over.

Lenny might be a year older, and an inch or two taller, but I was wider, stronger, and had more balls than him. I’d kick his bully ass in a heartbeat. Snatching the hat from his hand, I stepped up so he and I were nose to nose. “You want to pick on someone, Gleason? How about someone your own size? I’m right here.”

His ruddy skin turned red, and his eyes narrowed, like he was considering accepting the challenge, but after a long stare off, he huffed and sat down.

I shook my head. “That’s what I thought.”

A fat tear rolled down Bailey’s cheek when I turned to give her back her hat. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s a moron. His twin sister sits in the front row. She took all the brains in the womb.”

Bailey sniffled and tried to smile as she took her hat back. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

A few minutes later, we pulled up at school. Bailey got off the bus ahead of me, and I jogged to catch up to her.

“Who do you have for homeroom?”

“Mr. Johnson, I think. Room two eighteen.”

“I’m on the first floor, but I can show you where the classroom is, if you want?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I didn’t realize I was.”

“I’m not a charity case,” she snipped. “I can take care of myself.”

Man, this girl had a chip on her shoulder. I probably should’ve walked away and let her take her anger out on someone else. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t. But I kept pace with her. When we got to the door, I opened it and pointed to the stairs on the left.

“These are for going up only. There’s a set at the other end of the hall for coming down.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.”

“My homeroom is down here, but I’ll walk you up.”

She looked over, and I got the feeling she was about to say I didn’t have to, so I raised my hands. “I know you’re not charity. My mom and I only moved here last year, and I was the new kid. My buddy Ben showed me around the first day. I’m just paying it forward.”

She stayed quiet as we climbed the steps. Midway down the hall on the second floor, I pointed to a door up on the left. “That’s Johnson’s room. I had him for English last year. Try to sit at least three rows back from his desk. He gets these nasty white spit balls in the corners of his mouth, and sometimes they fly off and hit whatever’s in their path.”

“Ugh. Gross.” She smiled. “But thanks for the tip.” Right before we got to her classroom, she stopped and looked down. “It’s not a bad haircut. I have alopecia. It’s an autoimmune disorder that causes your hair to fall out. Sometimes I don’t have any.”

That sucked. Especially since the girls in middle school seemed to spend half their day looking at themselves in the mirror and fixing their hair and makeup. I wasn’t sure what had happened between June and September last year, but they’d all seemed to discover curling irons and makeup. I shrugged. “At least you can wear cool hats and stuff. Gleason can’t do anything about his ugly face.”

Bailey’s smile widened. “Thank you for stepping in on the bus. My mom always says actions count more than words, so maybe you’re not an asshole after all.”

My brows jumped. “Not an asshole after all? That sounds almost like a compliment.” The warning bell buzzed overhead, so I had to go. I touched two fingers to my forehead in a salute. “Gotta run. If I’m late, I get detention, and if I get detention, Coach won’t let me practice. Good luck today.”

“What do you play?”

“Football.”

“Are you good at it?”

“I’m the best at everything.”

Bailey laughed, and it made me feel warm inside. It was a different kind of warm than the way I felt around Allie Papadopoulos, whom I planned to ask to the eighth-grade dance, but a good feeling stayed with me all day.

At least until I got home and talked to my mom…

***

“How was your day, honey?”

“Fine.” I tossed my bookbag on the kitchen island and made a beeline for the pantry, grabbing an unopened package of Oreos. “Where’s Sarah?”

“She went down for her nap late, so she’s still sleeping.” Mom took the milk out and reached for a glass. “Don’t eat too many cookies. Dinner will be ready in an hour. And don’t forget to feed Sheldon. I bought more sprouts at the market today and some tofu.”

“He doesn’t like tofu.”

“How do you know? He eats it.”

I tore open the package and shoved a cookie into my mouth. “Because no one likes that crap.” I pointed to the milk in Mom’s hands. “You’re not going to give me that, are you?”

Mom opened the fridge and swapped the whole milk carton for coconut milk. “God forbid.” She walked around to the other side of the counter and poured me a tall glass. “Tell me about your first day of school.”

“They added chicken fingers to the menu for lunch. Much better than the chewy nuggets they had last year.”

“That’s good. What about your actual classes?”

I shrugged. “Okay. I guess.”

“Make any new friends?”

“No.” I shrugged again and knocked back half the glass of coconut milk. “Wait. Actually, I did. There was a new girl at the bus stop.”

“Oh? What’s her name?”

“Bailey.”

Mom’s face fell.

“What?”

She looked away, shaking her head. “Nothing.”

“Obviously there’s something, because I saw your face when I said Bailey’s name.”

She sighed. “I met her mom this morning at the coffee shop in town. We were in line and started talking. She was nervous about her daughter’s first day.”

“Because of her condition?”

Mom blinked a few times. “She told you about her condition?”

“It was kinda hard not to after that jerk Gleason ripped her hat off. Her hair is all patchy.”

Mom’s hand covered her heart. “Oh, that’s terrible. Miriam, Bailey’s mom, said Bailey didn’t want anyone to know. Apparently, at her last school, the kids treated her different, and it made Bailey upset. So she’d planned on keeping things quiet here. New school, new start. Kind of like us last year.”

“They treated her different because of her hair?”

“Well, I guess because of her illness in general. She was out of school a lot.”

“Out of school? I thought the only symptom was hair loss.”

Mom shook her head. “No, it can get pretty bad. Vomiting, weakness, exhaustion. The treatment destroys the bad cells, but it can damage the good ones at the same time, leaving you sick as a dog. Miriam said once she was out for such a long stretch that she had to start homeschooling her.”

“Wow. I had no idea. There’s a girl on TikTok with that. She’s bald, but she’s always dancing like she feels fine.”

“I’m sure everyone handles it differently, but maybe that person has finished with her treatments and her energy is back.”

I gulped more coconut milk and grabbed another Oreo. “What treatment do they give you for that?”

“Well, it could be a number of things—radiation, stem cells, immunotherapy… But I think it’s usually the chemo that makes your hair fall out.”

“Chemo? They treat alopecia with chemo?”

Mom’s forehead creased. “Alopecia? Bailey doesn’t have alopecia. She has cancer.”