Chapter 14: Keytruda and Complications (REVISED)

I entered the infusion room with Evan following a bit behind me. The walls were painted in vibrant, happy colors that felt out of place with the strong smell of antiseptic in the air. The murals and artwork, which were probably intended to be fun, now seemed a bit childish to me.

There were rows of cozy recliners where kids like me would spend hours connected to IVs. I recalled how the faux leather always felt sticky against my skin, even through my clothes. Each section had its own TV, and I wondered if they still had those old gaming consoles. When I was first diagnosed, those dusty PlayStation 2 were the only things that made this place somewhat tolerable.

Lylah was already in her usual spot by the window, getting ready for her treatment. Her amethyst eyes sparkled as she smiled, her lilac wig framing her heart-shaped face. "You must be Evan," she said, her voice bright and cheerful, with a knowing look in her eyes.

Evan shifted nervously, glancing around the room. "Uh, yeah. Hi." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, avoiding my gaze.

*He looks so uneasy,* I thought, feeling a familiar annoyance bubble up inside me. *Just chill out, will you?*

Lylah smiled brightly, her voice ringing a bit too loud in the stillness of the room. "It's great to finally meet you! Sloane has shared so much about you."

I felt my face heat up and shot Lylah a glare, hoping she would understand. I hadn’t really told her everything about Evan. I had mostly just vented about my confusing feelings for him and how they conflicted with my lingering feelings for Chandler.

"Is she here for, um, the same reason as you?" Evan asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I gave him a sharp look, but Lylah just chuckled, her laughter surprisingly cheerful for someone who had spent the last three years fighting cancer.

"We're both here for chemo," she said, her grin growing wider. "We met a few weeks back when Sloane had her first treatment. She's been keeping me entertained with all her boy troubles."

Evan's eyes grew wide, and he looked at me with a blend of sympathy and fear. I felt like I wanted to vanish. Or perhaps just blend into one of the bright, playful murals painted on the wall behind me.

I forced a smile and settled into the recliner beside Lylah. The cool, worn leather felt refreshing against my skin, especially compared to the cozy warmth of my oversized cream sweater. I pulled at the sleeves, allowing the soft fabric to wrap around my hands. "You're making me sound like some kind of gossip queen," I joked, nudging her playfully with my elbow. The silver crescent moon pendant on my long necklace swayed with the motion, its chill a gentle reminder of the IV line that would soon be inserted into my arm.

Lylah just smiled back, her amethyst eyes sparkling. "What can I say? You have a talent for attracting fascinating people."

I was glad I had picked my favorite outfit for chemo day: the cream sweater paired with deep burgundy leggings that felt like a second skin. My thick knit beanie, the color of a dark forest, was snug on my head, not just for warmth but to cover the thinning strands of hair, a constant reminder of the fight happening inside me. My ankle boots, lined with soft faux fur and featuring sturdy block heels, added a stylish yet practical touch. It was an outfit that made me feel both at ease and confident, which was crucial on days when I felt anything but.

Just then, Hanna came over, bustling with energy. Her chestnut brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and her hazel eyes, speckled with gold, offered a warm, reassuring smile. She moved with purpose as she connected me to a saline bag, her actions quick and efficient.

"Dr. Giacherio wants you to start Pembrolizumab today," she said, her tone efficient yet gentle. "Your white blood cell count is a little low, so we're making some changes."

Keytruda. Just another medication to add to the long list of substances flowing through my system. A wave of anxiety washed over me. Was this a sign that my condition was worsening? Or was it merely a precaution, a small hurdle to overcome? I shook off the thought, determined not to let it linger.

"I'll be back as soon as the saline is finished," Hanna said with a playful smile. "Just try to chill out."

Chill out. Sure, that sounded easy.

Evan, who had been standing awkwardly by the door, finally chimed in. "Keytruda? Is that, um, stronger than the other treatments?"

Lylah let out a laugh. "Sweetie, they're all powerful. It's just different methods to tackle the same problem."

I shot her a thankful glance. Leave it to Lylah to lighten the mood with her straightforwardness.

"Oh," Evan said quietly, his face turning a bit pale. He looked like he might make a run for it.

"Don't stress, Evan," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's not like you can catch it."

He mumbled something that sounded a bit like an apology and shuffled over to one of the hard plastic chairs in the corner. I rolled my eyes and sank back into my recliner, trying to ignore how my heart raced a little more each time Hanna adjusted the IV line.

Lylah squeezed my hand gently. "He'll come around," she whispered, her amethyst eyes filled with understanding. "Just give him some time."

I wasn't sure if she meant Evan would get used to the whole cancer situation or if she was talking about him getting comfortable with me. Maybe it was both. Either way, I appreciated her support.

Thirty minutes later, the Keytruda infusion wrapped up. A wave of relief washed over me, quickly followed by the familiar fatigue that always came with these treatments. I pulled out my phone and texted Dad and Pops: "Chemo finished early. Ready for pickup."

In just a few minutes, Dad replied: "On my way in 10. Love you, munchkin."

Dad kept his promise and showed up ten minutes later, parking his spotless cherry red Chevy Suburban right by the curb. Pops, always the cheerful one, waved excitedly from the front seat, his smile bright and inviting.

As I slid into the back seat, the heated leather wrapped around me like a warm embrace. Soft jazz played quietly on the radio, calming my jittery nerves.

"How did our girl do today?" Pops asked, turning to flash me a kind smile.

"Tired," I replied, resting my head against the cool window. "But I'm okay."

"Did they give you that new medication?" Dad inquired, catching my gaze in the rearview mirror.

I nodded. "Keytruda."

"Hmm," Dad said thoughtfully, his forehead creasing. "We should look into that more."

Pops laughed lightly. "Come on, Nick. The doctors know what they're doing."

"Sure, but it’s always good to stay informed," Dad shot back.

I smiled at their familiar teasing; it felt like a comforting slice of normal life.

The rest of the drive was peaceful, not awkward at all. When we arrived at the school, a wave of reluctance washed over me. I was exhausted, but the idea of facing the whispers and curious looks that seemed to follow me in the hallways was draining in its own way.

"Have a good afternoon, sweetheart," Dad said, his voice rough yet caring. "Don’t push yourself too hard."

"Thanks, Dad," I mumbled, already halfway out the door.

Evan, who had been staring at his phone the whole time, finally glanced up. "Later," he said in a monotone voice. "Catch you in PE." With that, he disappeared into the crowd of students making their way back to class after lunch.

*Later?* That was all he had to say? No offer to walk me to class, no words of support? A wave of irritation, stronger than my fatigue, surged through me. Was he always this oblivious, or was this some strange effect of dating a girl with cancer? I pushed the thought away, determined not to let him spoil my already delicate mood.

I inhaled deeply and straightened my back. Just three more classes left. I can handle this.

When I got out of the Suburban and onto the school grounds, the noise and activity hit me like a wave. The courtyard was packed with students coming back from lunch, their voices and laughter bouncing off the pavement. I felt a wave of tiredness wash over me, a reminder of how much the chemo had affected me.

I made a beeline for my locker, wanting to drop off my backpack and get away from the bustling hallway. The combination lock clicked open, and I quickly tossed my backpack inside. The sudden lightness felt odd, a gentle nudge that my life had changed in ways I was still trying to understand. I grabbed my gym clothes and walked toward the locker room, wishing I could just ditch class and head home. But I knew I had to keep up some kind of normal routine, even if everything felt a bit off-kilter.

The gym hit me with its usual mix of sweat and old rubber as I walked through the double doors. The noise of squeaky sneakers, bouncing basketballs, and Coach Mathieson's loud whistle filled the air, making my head spin. I looked around the packed gym, trying to find Evan. There he was, leaning against the bleachers, but he wasn’t by himself. Tahni, with her bright blonde hair shining under the gym lights, was practically glued to him, her icy blue eyes locked on him like she was hunting.

My stomach twisted. Tahni. Of course. Even after everything that went down between us - after she ditched our childhood friendship to hang out with the popular crowd - she still had to show off her claim on Evan. It felt like a sick game to her, a way to show she was in charge and to remind me of what I had lost. Watching them together, so close and so at ease, shot a wave of jealousy through me, a feeling I despised.

I stood there, torn between confronting them or just sneaking away without being noticed. But before I could decide, Evan locked eyes with me. I saw a brief moment of recognition on his face, quickly followed by a look of panic. He whispered something to Tahni, who shrugged him off and strutted away, her hips swaying like she owned the place.

Evan walked over, looking both guilty and awkward. "Hey," he said quietly. "You made it."

"Yeah," I replied, my tone flat. "I did."

He shuffled his feet, not meeting my eyes. "Sorry about, um, Tahni. She just really likes to chat."

"I’ve noticed," I shot back, unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

He flinched. "Look, I don’t want you to misunderstand. We’re just friends, alright?"

"Friends who are practically glued at the hip?" I snapped, bitterness creeping into my words.

His face turned red, and for a second, I saw anger flash in his eyes. "Come on, Sloane, don’t be like that. You know how Tahni is. She’s just... well, she’s just Tahni."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice getting louder. "Are you saying she can't control herself? That it's just in her nature to stick to any guy she likes?"

Evan ran his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated. "I understand you're not her biggest fan, but can we just let it go? I really don’t want to argue."

"Then maybe you should think twice about who you hang out with," I shot back, my anger fueled by a mix of exhaustion, jealousy, and the aftereffects of chemo. "You're my boyfriend, Evan. Shouldn't you be a bit more considerate about this?"

Before Evan could say anything, a sharp whistle cut through the air. Coach Mathieson, looking disapproving, marched over, his whistle swinging from his lips.

"Am I interrupting something?" he shouted, his voice echoing in the gym. "Because last I checked, this is PE class, not a social gathering."

Evan and I exchanged awkward looks.

"Well?" Coach Mathieson continued, arms crossed. "Unless you two are about to show us some new couples' workout, I suggest you join the rest of the class for warm-ups."

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. Couples' workout? That sounded way too personal, and I couldn't help but glance at Evan. He looked away, his face unreadable.

"Sorry, Coach," I muttered, wanting to escape his gaze. I shot Evan one last glare and headed toward the track, my heart racing with a mix of anger, confusion, and a nagging feeling of betrayal.

As I started jogging, my mind was racing. Evan's easygoing attitude about Tahni's behavior hurt more than I wanted to admit. His unwillingness to stand up for me or even acknowledge how awkward things were said a lot. Maybe Lylah was right. Maybe he really did need time. Or maybe, just maybe, he wasn't worth it.