View Cover
"I'm afraid I have bad news, Brendan. It's leukemia."
It goes right by me. I don't even hear it. I'm so prepared to hear anything else—a virus, mono, meningitis, even avian flu—that it's only when my mom gasps that my mind backs up, rewinds the tape, and I actually hear what he just said.
Leukemia.
I'm going to die.
It can't be.
It must be someone else.
Will it hurt?
Leukemia is for pathetic-looking bald kids with big eyes. Leukemia is for wasted bodies lying in hospital beds. Not me. Is there treatment? Is there a cure?
I'm going to die.