“And I learned I don’t have to protect everybody from being scared about me.”
David cried openly in the
the word hero.
Not because kindness embarrassed him.
Because adults kept using it to simplify what had happened.
Local articles occasionally resurfaced.
TEEN GROWS HAIR FOR CANCER-STRICKEN FRIEND.
Cute.
Shareable.
Incomplete.
They rarely mentioned the fundraiser had needed adult intervention.
Or that Lily hated becoming inspirational content.
Or that Ethan needed counseling because he became terrified her survival depended somehow on whether he tried hard enough.
Hero was easier.
Reality wasn’t.
Lily’s cancer remained in remission.
That word grew more comfortable over time.
Not safe.
Comfortable.
She returned to school
more consistently.
Her hair grew to her shoulders.
Then she cut it short voluntarily.
Ethan stared.
“You spent years complaining about being bald and now you cut it?”
“I contain multitudes.”
“Pretentious.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Of what?”
“My hair.”
