Extraits

"You're breaking my heart!" My mother said dramaticall.

I tried to keep my voice as gentle as possible as I ushered--pushed--them out of my room, out of the suite, down the hall, and to the elevator. "You'll be fine. I'll call you."

"I won't take your calls. I don't want to hear from you if you won't listen to reason. And don't try calling your sister.

I don't want you polluting her mind."

A pang of homesickness and longing-for my sister-hit me square in the chest, and my voice wasn't exactly steady as I responded, "Okay, I won't call."

"You'll die here, Fiona. At a state school!" my mother sobbed. I tried not to roll my eyes.

I didn't know which she felt was worse: the fact that my brain tumor might reoccur or that I was going to a state university (in Iowa) rather than to Vassar.