Part 2/3
Hana Inakawa Schmidt
Until Augustus showed up, it was bearable. Just.
Sure, Hazel and Isaac were annoying as hell. And Monica was also really annoying. Every time she would pick Isaac up, she would kind of sift her eyes around the rest of us. Except for Hazel- she would kind of stare at Hazel judgmentally. I don't know if it was in a I'll-kill-you-if-you-lay-a-finger-on-my-boyfriend way or if it was a I-don't-get-why-Isaac-is-friends-with-you way.
We had introductions first. As Hazel said, it was name, age, diagnosis, how we feels. Hana, 15, hydrocephalus, nauseous. At which time Patrick would always point me to the garbage can. At which time I would take out one of my many barf bags that were conveniently stuffed in my pocket.
The preacher would talk about his past experiences with cancer and God (I didn't really pay attention, but it was the same every week) and then we would discuss.
Scratch the part I said about quiet.
We would talk. Loudly. About whatever we liked. Sometimes it would be disease or whatever. I would usually talk to Stephanie about Attack on Titan, or Madoka Magica or Firefly or any interesting show, really. I started reading the Game of Thrones series, so I was probably trying to convince her to read that. That was the only time where Hazel was quiet. She would kind of…sit there. And stare at us. Quite disapprovingly, too, to be honest. What a bitch.
And then we would share something. Our fears. I doubt Hazel was paying attention to the not-very-tightly-kept agenda, since all she noticed was when Patrick asked Augustus his fears. But everyone said stuff.
Heights.
Insects.
Death.
Reaching Stage II of cancer.
The dark.
Lying flat on my back, in my case. I get really, really dizzy.
And then Augustus opened his mouth.
Oblivion.
If I weren't in a wheelchair, I would have slapped him upside the head. What a pretentious asshole.
The puns he made about Isaac's blindness were funny- most people don't want to joke about illness because oh, dear, did I offend you? Shut up, already. And then when we joke about it, they act all shocked, like how could you joke about a thing like that? Honestly, I'm more concerned about the people who think that rape jokes, or period jokes or misogynistic jokes are funny.
If that was the end of it, I could have grit my teeth and curled my hands into fists and gone without trying to punch him, but no, Hazel had to open her mouth.
A note: prior to Augustus, she never opened her mouth. Not once. Except for the introductions.
Hazel made this big, long speech about the inevitability of entropy or some shit like that. It was quite interesting, to be honest, and a point that I wanted to make. I couldn't have phrased it like that, though. And that wasn't too bad. What was bad was how she was staring at Augustus the whole time and he was making cow eyes right back. Gag me.
It was kind of insulting, almost, that I wasn't in her book. But it was understandable. I didn't talk to her, she didn't talk to me. She forgot about me. So it was perfectly reasonable. It just hurt a little. The one piece of representation disabled people get and she makes it a love story.
"What's your name?" he had asked. At that point she should have thought it out. We had just done introductions. Anyone who asks one's name right after introductions is not someone worth paying attention to.
"Hazel," she had replied. They were staring at each other. Kill me.
"No, your full name." A point I would like to make: why the fuck would you ask this?
My name is Hana Inakawa Schmidt and I guarantee that if it were me up there talking about oblivion instead of Hazel Grace Lancaster, it would have 100% turned out differently. My middle name is my mother's last name. Sure, that's not how it usually works. He probably would have played along for the rest of the meeting and that would be it. But since it was Hazel, Hazel Grace Lancaster, he fell in love with her. At that point Hazel giggled- honest-to-god giggled when he asked that. My god.
"Hazel Grace Lancaster."
Ugh.
See, that only works with white people.
And even if I did have a real middle name. Schmidt just doesn't have the same ring as Lancaster. So maybe I'm a little jealous.
I mean, I've always been envious of other people. They had better hair, better balance (see, that's why I'm in a wheelchair. Not that I can't walk but because whenever I do walk, I look drunk and I can't make it very far without tipping over), better friends in larger quantities… If you wanted to find a saying to illustrate my life, it would be that the grass is always greener on the other side.
So sue me.