Dare You to Date the Point Guard (Rock Valley High 2)

“You know, it can be so scary waiting to hear back from these kinds of things,” his mom continued, running a hand across Mason’s back. She seemed deaf to her son’s grumblings.

“What kind of things?” I asked in a low voice. I was getting a bad feeling. It was like someone had replaced the lining of my stomach with lead.

“His CT scan,” she answered with a sad smile. “It may be nothing, but when you’ve already fought off cancer once as a kid, every little thing has to be checked up on.”

My world tilted on its axis.

Mason had cancer?

Mason tough-as-nails Finnick?

All this time, I’d assumed he’d lost his dad to cancer. But I’d been wrong. Dead wrong. It was no wonder he’d spent a lot of time in hospitals as a kid. Never had I imagined that this six-foot-tall boy with iron abs, killer moves on the court, and the best laugh I’ve ever heard had been so near death’s door. How could I have missed that?

“Oh dear, I’m guessing she didn’t know.” His mother’s voice sounded a mile off, along with Mason’s grunted confirmation. “I think I’ve frightened her. Maybe you should help her into a seat. I’ll go grab her some cold water.”

The room spun and black dots appeared in the corners of my vision. Mason grabbed my arm as I began to lean to one side. His concerned expression was all I could see as his mom’s words began to sink in.

“You have cancer?”

“Had cancer.” He led me to a chair and I fell into its cushy seat. “Are you feeling okay?”

I waved him away. It didn’t matter how I felt. How I felt was insignificant.

“When you talked about cancer camp, I’d assumed you’d lost your dad or something. Just like Polly.”

“My dad walked out on us when I was a baby,” he said with a shrug. “It’s always been just me and my mom. I was the one who got cancer. My mom thought camp would be good for me. Get me out of my funk. As you can probably tell, the funk is kind of permanent.”

I knew he was trying to be light and funny, but nothing he said was going to erase this feeling like the world was falling down around me. How could I have gotten this so wrong?

“How old were you when you got sick? What kind of cancer did you have? Can it really come back?”

He knelt in front of me, a bemused smile on his face. “I was seven and it was an osteosarcoma in my left arm. Luckily, they caught the cancer early enough that they were able to save it.”

I grabbed his arm and started feeling it for any bumps, any signs that something was wrong. How could I have been so blind? All along, I was worried about my own projects, my own problems, and Mason had been living with a terrible secret. I was so ashamed.

“Trina, stop.” He grabbed my hand and held it tight, forcing me to look him in the face. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Then why are you here, getting a CT?” I bit my lower lip, feeling a stinging sensation in my eyes. These emotions were hitting me so hard and fast I hardly knew whether to cry, faint, or break out into nervous giggles.

“Because I’ve had a little bit of shoulder pain recently and my mom freaks out about these kinds of things.” The left side of his mouth curled into a half smile. “The blood tests were inconclusive, but she won’t let me rest until she knows for sure. Even when I tell her that it’s from shooting too many free throws. Trust me, Trina, I’m fine.”

Blood tests? Suddenly, the Band-aid on his arm two weeks ago made sense. He’d been here to have his blood drawn for a lab test — not to donate blood. It had been a sign and I’d missed it. Totally and completely missed it.

Still, his words seemed to calm my racing heart. I nodded and swallowed down the lump that had formed in my throat. All the while, his eyes searched my face. A conversation that we’d had outside the school gym returned to the forefront of my brain. It made sense now why Mason said his mom was afraid he’d break. That she’d lose him. She nearly had.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

I huffed. Again, he was all concerned about me when I should’ve been the one kneeling at his feet, offering to hold his hand through this trauma. “I’m fine.”

A teasing glint entered his eyes. “I refuse to believe it until I see that ridiculous Trina Frye smile back on your face. If I say yes to that party tonight, will it come back?”

I couldn’t help but smile. I might be a bit ridiculous, but he was the one holding my hand and bribing me with a party that had been my idea in the first place.

“See, there’s the smile.” He grinned up at me, his eyes sparkling. “I knew that would do it.”

He might have gotten me smiling again, but there were still so many questions bouncing around inside my skull.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had cancer?”