Beth and I swing together on the old playground that used to be a part of the old elementary school. Silence sits heavily between us, the mild summer day now dense and humid with the awkwardness that is waiting to be addressed.

“Beth,” I say. At the same time, she says, “Amaya-“. A pause. ”Why didn’t you tell me?!?” I raise my voice. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

”You? Didn't want me to worry?” I almost laugh. The irony of it all.

”Look, I know it sounds stupid-”

”Are you serious?” I yell. ”We were best friends!” I keep talking, putting extra emphasis on the word ”were”, and I notice she flinches.

”Amaya!” she says, speaking up. I stop talking. ”I didn't want you to know, because I knew you would act like this.” I open my mouth to protest, but she continues. ”Why don't you understand? I'm in pain.” she says, tears glistening in her eyes. I feel empathy for her for one of the first times since she's been diagnosed.

”Okay.” I start crying. ”I've been a jerk. Why did this have to happen?” I sob. We were supposed to start high school together. But then she got sick.

”I don't know.” she says, crying with me. ”But I'll figure it out.”

”We'll figure it out. Together.” I say cheesily.

We hug. But I'm still sad.

What did Beth do to deserve cancer?