Christi clutched the arm rests on the wheel chair. Bernice, Christi's nurse, wheeled her into the Y.C.U.C.T *Yih-cuh-cuh-t* (Young Children Undergoing Cancer Treatments) room. It was made to cheer the kids there up but it only made Christi want to cry. The walls were colored vibrant reds, sunny yellows and ocean blues. The carpet was plush with green and pink stripes. A large, wooden castle was propped against the left wall while miniature kitchens, doll beds, toy chests and train tracks made up the right wall. In the center of the room, children played with plastic trains, yarn dolls and had pretend tea parties.
The children were dressed in blue and white paper hospital gowns. Most had no hair, some had crackling plastic mittens and socks. It made Christi's heart break. She had only been experiencing a treatment every other day for the past month. The doctors estimated she had at least four more months to go. She hadn't lost any hair yet and she was happy.
Bernice parked Christi's wheelchair near the window. "Do you need me to help get you out, darlin'?" she asked.
Christi blushed. "No thank you," she replied shyly.
"Okay, dear. I'll be over there, if you need anything." Bernice walked over to a cluster of chatting nurses and instantly launched into a conversation with spiky yellow hair.
Christi slid out of the wheelchair and slowly walked over to the little table. Three little girls were sharing pretend cups of tea and sipping out of pink plastic cups. Christi smiled and sat down.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Christi."
Identically, the three five year olds turned their heads robotically. Their blue eyes fastened on Christi's grey ones. Christi felt the heat and backed away. Obviously she was unwelcome. She tried the two little boys rolling Thomas the Tang Engine trains on the carpeting.
"Choo! Choo!" said the one with tiny, black hairs sprouting from his scalp.
"Hello!" exclaimed Christi. "What are your names? My name is Christi!"
The two boys completely ignored her. Christi looked herself over. Sure, her curly ebony hair was frazzled, sure her skin was white as the sheets on her hospital bed, sure her pink bunny slippers clashed with the blue hospital gown, but other then that she was fine. She put on the Warm Vanilla Sugar lotion Hazel had bought her and then also has brushed her teeth.
"It's not you," said a perky voice. "It's them."
Christi turned to see a girl, about ten, sitting in a dark corner. She wore a neon orange beanie hat, a blue hospital gown and green combat boots. Her eyes were emerald green and her skin was olive. In her hand was a pink iPod and a bible.
Christi wobbled over to her and sat down. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "I mean, it's not that they don't like you, they juts don't talk to anybody. Never have, never will. I'm Rose. Rose Thomas. I see you're new."
"My name's Christi Jackson. Yes, I just started chemotherapy a month ago, but this is my first time in here. Why don't they talk to anybody?" asked Christi.
"Well," began Rose, pointing to the three tea partiers. "They're the Baxter Triplets. The one on the left, with the tea pot, is Penney. The one next to her is Jenney and the last one is Lenney. Their mother drank when she was pregnant with them and that's her consequence. Now, their mama's in prison and they're in foster care. Been here for three years. The two boys, with the trains, are Lewis Matuche and Darwin Heroin. Lewis and Darwin are nine. They're cousins and share a room on the fourth floor. Lewis' parents were killed in a car crash two years ago and so Darwin's parents adopted him. They do everything together, ever since they both found out they have Leukemia. They've been here for at least…two years. And that girl, the one with the bottle on the castle thing, she's Lucy Reinhart. Only about three years old. Been here her whole life. Both her parents had Leukemia and I guess it was passed down through genes. She's never said a word, or made a sound, in her life. Cute little thing, isn't she?" "Wow…that's terrible," muttered Christi, fazed by the horrifying news. No wonder none of them wanted to talk to her.
"We're the regulars here. What's your story?" Rose wanted to know.
Christi fiddled with a loose thread. "I have two sisters; Hazel, ten, and Joy, five and a brother; Jay, who's Joy's twin. A month ago, at my sister Hazel's birthday party, I passed out in the kitchen and was taken here. And then I found out."
"What about your parents? Ever been in jail? Dead? Divorced?"
"No. They're…fine. What's your story, Rose?" asked Christi.
"First off, I also have two sisters; Rachel, fourteen and Mae, twelve. And a brother, Freddie, six. I basically went in for a physical in second grade and BAM! Leukemia! My family and I lived in Montana but when we found out, they shipped me off to live with my grandmother here. Better care or something. At least they visit every Christmas." Christi noticed a sad glimmer flash in Rose's eyes. But Rose shook it off.
"So, you've been here for four years?" Christi wondered, hoping to change the subject.
Rose nodded. "Exactly forty eight months," she said. "I've been here the longest, although, that's nothing to brag about."
"I'm so sorry," whispered Christi. "I thought I had it bad." "You know, being here for a long time, sure makes you realize how important life really is." Rose's eyes grew distant. "People act like life is horrible, like it's some kind of hellish punishment! People commit suicide for stupid reasons. We don't even realize that we hold something special, a treasure: life. You only get a short time here on earth. I think it's a privilege. I watch T.V. and I see people, perfectly healthy people, treating their bodies like trash. They're lucky they even have bodies. It really makes me mad, you know?" she ranted.
Christi nodded. "I know-"
"I mean, it's just not fair! Us kids in the hospital, with the real problems, probably deserve life the most, yet we have the smallest amount of time on earth!" Rose blushed. "Oops, there I go again. Sorry. I get carried away sometimes. But, I just…just cherish your friends and family. Make it known how much you care for them. I gotta go. Nice meeting you." Rose dashed off, tears brimming her glittering eyes.
Christi was frozen. Rose was right. A short, plump nurse with purple lipstick walked over. "Oh, dear. Did Rose leave again? I swear! That child has no respect for my aching muscles."
"She went that way," Christi pointed.
"Thanks, dear. Rose really shouldn't be running the poor thing. The doctor says that only wears her weak bones out more. But she insists! She goes on and on about how important it is to live life. Poor little darling. Such a pity she only has a couple more weeks," the nurse dabbed at her eyes.
"What do you mean 'a couple more weeks'?"
"To live. Rose is going to die."
