I check my phone over and over, feeling anxiety spreading in my body. Logan and his mom were supposed to go see the doctor today and determine whether the chemo was working or not. Logan’s chemo is bi-weekly and on the following days, I go to see him and do homework and all that. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I am startled. Sneaking a look at the history teacher, I see that Mr. Yethia looks preoccupied with correcting his other class’s exams. The handsome kid: We need 2 talk. This isn’t the response I am expecting. I knock on Logan’s room three times, before the door opens. He ushers for me to go in, his head pointed down. He leaves the door open and sits on the edge of his bed. I sit on the chair in front of his desk. “So?” He rubs his hand on his forehead and sighs. “The chemo isn’t working.”
