Side Effects May Vary

Rubbing my eyes, I did an inventory of everyone I knew well enough to ask for help who also had a hand in the school musical. “I don’t know anyone,” I said. “But I know someone who might.”

Her eyes opened again. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Call them.”

I stepped into the hallway with my phone to my ear. “Hey,” I said. “You got a minute?”

“I’m eating leftover onion rings and trying to hack the new parental controls on our TV. I think my mom figured out about the after-hours soft-core porn on the movie channels,” said Dennis.

“Sounds really intense over there.”

The TV cut off in the background. “Yeah, well, you dumped me today for everyone’s favorite cancer patient.”

“This is true,” I said. “Hey, you know any guys in the theater department?”

So here’s the thing: Popular people may have status, but the rest of us have power in numbers and, because of that, we have resources. Dennis especially. I guess you could call it, like, the nerd mafia, but Dennis knows someone everywhere—water boys, teacher’s aides, theater tech gurus.

“A few,” he said. “Why?”

“It’s for Alice.”

“Of course it is.” I could picture his smug smile. “You’re my best friend, which means I’m obligated to tell you that she’s using you.”

“No shit.” I didn’t know what was worse: the fact that everyone could see that she was using me or that I could so readily admit it. “They need to be trustworthy.”

“I know a guy,” he said. “But I’m going to need details.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have those yet.”

He laughed.

“Whatever. I’ll call you later.” I went to hang up, but pulled the phone back to my ear. “Hey, wait. You still there?”

“Here,” said Dennis.

“How do you feel about heights?”

“I’m in.”

When I walked back into the treatment room, Alice really was asleep. I watched her for a few minutes, thinking about what Dennis had said. She was using me, and I should have been pissed about it, but didn’t I know that from the very beginning? Honestly, though, she could use me for the rest of her life if these were the last days I’d spend with her. I wish I had the resolve to say no, but I couldn’t. Not if saying no meant saying good-bye.

At the end of Alice’s session, a girl about our age came in with her mom. The girl’s hair was shoulder length and thick. Most everyone in the room watched her in flickering glances as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and her mother squeezed her shoulder. I turned to see Alice with the nurse at her side applying a bandage over the spot where her IV had been. She sat with her mouth open, watching the girl, living in a world I didn’t know how to be a part of.

We walked out to my car with Alice bundled in a layer of sweaters and jackets despite it being an unseasonably warm March. Once we were in the car and away from the shadow of the clinic, I turned to Alice and said, “You know you’re going to have to give me more details.”

Harvey. Then.

Who are we supposed to be meeting again?” asked Alice.

“Some kid named Glen,” I said. “He’s the one who got the dress rehearsal video.”

We stood in the alley behind the school auditorium, waiting to be let in. It was the first week of April and the last performance of Oklahoma!, starring none other than Celeste. Glen was Dennis’s inside guy, who did all the lighting design for the school plays. I’d never heard of him, but from what Dennis said he never ventured far from the theater tech warehouse behind the auditorium. When I asked Dennis how we should compensate Glen, he said that these guys operated strictly on favors and that he’d take care of it. I didn’t want to know, so I didn’t ask.

Alice and I rented Oklahoma!, but we only made it through the first half, which was all that mattered anyway. From what I gathered, this girl named Laurey liked these two guys named Curly and Jud, but she really loved Curly. Anyway, right before intermission there’s this big ballet number, which is some dream sequence where Laurey realizes she loves Curly. All I can say about Oklahoma! is that I officially have no desire to visit the state of Oklahoma.

“Hey, you guys!” I turned to see Dennis jogging up behind us. “I texted Glen. He said we’ve got about twenty minutes and that he’s on his way down to let us in.”

And then, as if on cue, the stage door opened. “Come on,” said a voice from the shadows of backstage.

I looked to Alice and she motioned for me to go ahead.

It took a minute for my eyes to adjust, but when they did I found a guy two heads shorter than me with greasy black hair, round glasses, and translucently white skin. He wore cargo shorts and a T-shirt with a fire-breathing dragon flying through a rainbow. He had to be Glen.

“Bro,” said Dennis, giving him some kind of handshake-high-five combo. “Harvey, Alice, this is Glen.”

“Hey,” I said. “Thanks for helping us out.”

Alice nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”