She lost her hair in the third month. She told Ethan she looked like a badass astronaut. He told her astronauts had helmets. She told him she did not need a helmet because her head was already the hardest thing in the room.
The treatments slowed the progression. They did not stop it.
By October of her senior year, Lily was spending more time in the hospital than at home. The art club sent her supplies. The debate team sent her transcripts of their meets so she could critique their arguments from her bed, which she did with the rigorous, affectionate brutality of a coach who believed her team was good enough to be told the truth.
She ordered the red dress in November.
I was there when the box arrived. A nurse brought it to her room. Lily opened it with both hands even though the IV made the left one difficult. She held the dress up against her hospital gown and looked at me.
