“I said no, Wednesday!” I say firmly, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch my adoptive sister pout at me, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her back against a pillow.

“It’s just a dance, Emma,” she exclaims, throwing her skinny hands into the air. “Please! It’s once-in-a-lifetime experience for me, Emma. I have one year left. Three-hundred and sixty-five days, to be precise!”

 Wednesday stares at me pleadingly with tears forming in her eyes. It pains me to see her cry after all she’s been through. She looks paler than yesterday, which concerns me. I know that I have no power to stop what is happening to her but all I can so is attempt to distract her from the pain.

Wednesday was diagnosed with Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia four years ago when we were both twelve. I still remember the time she went through her first chemotherapy, she cried so much when her hair dropped in chunks. She was depressed for three days; no one was able to cheer her up. I did the only thing to bring a smile to her face at that time; I shaved my hair off. Whenever Wednesday does chemotherapy, I always shave my head for her eventhough she asked me to stop it years ago. She didn’t want anyone to make fun of me but I didn’t care if anyone looks at me strangely in school or public.

I was adopted into Wednesday’s family when I was ten. Apparently, they wanted Wednesday to have a sibling since our mum was infertile after Wednesday. My adoptive parents treat me as if I’m their biological child and I love them no matter what. Wednesday is like a sister I never had. She used to protect me from judgmental schoolmates when she was still allowed to go to school.

Wednesday and I are a team, like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. Nothing can get into our way, except for this dreadful cancer. Once Wednesday is gone, I know that it will break me. I cried every time I’m alone in my room once I found out that the cancer keeps coming back. I pray for a miracle every day for my sister. I would do anything for Wednesday.

A dance is a whole different thing.

In a matter of fact, this is not an ordinary dance. This dance is organized by the hospital staffs for other Leukemia patients, doctors and nurses. I would feel out of place since I’m not any of them.

I let out a sigh of defeat, knowing that the guilt will eat me up sooner or later. She is right; Doctor Collins informed us a few days ago that she has less than a year left to live. There is no other way to save her. We tried every possible treatment required from chemotherapy to radiation to transplant; none were successful but managed to slow down the growth of cancerous cells.

I want to spend as much time as possible with her. Even if it means going to this dance.

“Fine, I’ll go but you have to promise not to ditch me!” I say, holding up a finger at her in warning.

Wednesday’s eyes light up immediately as she starts to practically bounce on the hospital bed until her red bandanna falls off her head, leaving her hairless head exposed. She still looks weak from the last treatment. Nevertheless, she looks excited for her first dance. I hate to admit but it will also be my first dance. I was always too busy studying or spending time with Wednesday than to go to useless school dances.

            It’s just a dance so how bad can it be?

            “I promise, Emmy Bear!” she says, reaching out to mess my short hair.  

I lightly slap her hands away, earning a giggle from her. “Don’t call me that! It’s a childish name!” I whine in protest at the nickname she gave.

            She sticks out her tongue at me childishly. “Whatever, little sis.”

            I scowl at her in reply. I grumble under my breath about Wednesday being one week and three days older than me.

            The next few days consists of mum and Wednesday talking about what kind of dresses to buy for the dance. Dad is lucky enough to be a man so he can excuse himself easily without being noticed. I am stuck here, listening to their chatters. I would once in awhile nod whenever a question is directed at me although I have no clue of what they are talking about.

            Doctor Collins has allowed us to bring Wednesday to a mall to buy dresses. There is a condition though; she is confined to a wheelchair since she is still too weak to stand on her own feet. Wednesday’s condition worsens everyday. I can tell by her constant wincing, low whimpers and a blank face to hide whatever pain she’s going through. As much as it pains me to know that she is suffering silently, I am proud to call her my sister for fighting it.

            A day before the dance, mum and Wednesday went into every shops in the shopping mall, looking for the ‘perfect’ dress. I also notice many people openly staring at Wednesday in pity. They didn’t even attempt to hide their stares which make Wednesday feel uncomfortable. I glared at every one of them until they look away from my sister.

            A smile creeps unconsciously up to my face when I remembered a time when Wednesday and I were thirteen-year-old. I took Wednesday out to a park nearby the hospital a few weeks after her second chemotherapy. A boy, maybe ten years of age, came up to us and asked us why we were bald. Wednesday burst into tears after that, making me angry at the boy for emotionally hurting my sister. I would have punched him if it wasn’t for Wednesday calming me down. Wednesday has always been there to control me whenever I’m angry. In other words, I have anger issues, especially when it comes to Wednesday and my family.

            “What do you think of this dress, Emma?” mum asks, snapping me out of my train of thoughts. Mum is holding up a black and red dress. I don’t know much about dresses but it is pretty.

            “It’s perfect!” Wednesday replies on my behalf.

            “Try it on!” mum gushes, pushing me towards the dressing room.

            At the end of the day, mum bought the black and red dress for me and a green one for Wednesday. Dad drives us back to the hospital before visiting hours is over.

            On the day of the dance, mum put makeup on me against my will. No matter how much I made a fuss, mum wouldn’t listen. I give up and let her apply whatever substance on my face. An hour later, I can barely recognize myself. The girl on the mirror is nothing like the-usual-tomboy-Emma. The girl is now pretty Emma.

            I still don’t get why mum is working so hard to make me pretty for one little dance.

            Mum and I arrive at the hospital an hour before the dance started to get Wednesday ready. Wednesday looks extremely nervous. She keeps fiddling with her thumbs while staring at the clock.

            “You look gorgeous, Em!” Wednesday compliments.

            I blush and look at my sister who is sitting on the wheelchair with a black bandanna wrapped around her head matching her cute green dress.

“You look gorgeous too, Wednesday.”       

            “Are you ready, girls?” Mum asks, glancing at the clock. We have two more minutes until the dance starts. “You two look so beautiful!” Mum says, giving the both of us a brief hug. I promised her that I would call when the dance is over so she could pick me up. After all, the hospital does not allow visitors or family members to stay after visiting hours.

            I wheel Wednesday into the empty elevator and press the number 1. I notice Wednesday keeps chewing on her nails until we are near the hall.

            Wednesday and I gasps simultaneously when we enter the hall. I have to give credit to whoever managed to transform an ugly hall into a clean and beautiful dance floor.

            “Wednesday! Emma!” Doctor Collins calls out with a grin stretching across his bright face. I wheel Wednesday towards Doctor Collins, who is surprisingly wearing a tuxedo. We have never seen Doctor Collins wear anything other than his signature white coat and a stethoscope hung around his neck. I can barely recognize him.

            “Emma, nice to see you without your usual t-shirt and jeans on,” Doctor Collins comments, giving me a hug.

            What he says is true; I have a horrible sense of fashion. “Oh hush, Doc!”

            “Hey, Doctor Collins!” Wednesday says, also giving him a hug.

            “How are you feeling today, Wednesday?” Doctor Collins asks just like he does everyday.

            “Worse,” she replies with a sad smile. I take her right hand and squeeze it softly; I know she does not like to be reminded that she is sick. She has always been a bright and bubbly young lady, except if she had just finished her treatment. She would throw tantrums or even talk about death. It is scary for me to listen to her speak of death as if she doesn’t care. There were many times when she was at the verge of giving up but our family and I were always there by her side.

            Doctor Collins frowns with worry, creasing his forehead. He looks exhausted by the look on his slightly sweaty face. Wednesday is one of his longest surviving patients. Therefore, he is like a second father to Wednesday and me.                      

            Doctor Collins quickly replaces his frown with a smile.

            “I want you to meet my son, Hayden.” Doctor Collins takes a step back to reveal a boy who looks almost exactly like his father. One of Wednesday’s favorite nurses told Wednesday and I that Hayden used to be rebellious during his teen years. Now I heard that he’s planning to study music since he plays the electric guitar.

            “Hello! My name is Wednesday and this is my sister, Emma,” Wednesday says animatedly. Hayden looks even more uncomfortable around Wednesday, unsure how to respond to a Leukemia patient.

            I roll my eyes at her. What a great way to start a conversation, Wednesday.

            Hayden stares at her and then at me.

            “You have cancer too?” he asks me. Such a rude boy!

Just before I can yell at him, Doctor Collins hit his son’s shoulder and whispers something into his ears. Hayden rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment and nervousness.

            “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking down at his shoes.

            Wednesday and I look at each other, clearly neither of us wants to hang out with him. Doctor Collins clears his throat to end the silence.

            “Well, I’ll just grab some punch over there!” Doctor Collins announce, scurrying off to a table with a mountain of food.

            Wednesday looks around until she sees Ben, who is also a Leukemia patient. “I’ll head over there and talk to Ben,” Wednesday says and wheels herself away from me and Hayden.

            I glare at Wednesday for leaving me here alone. What happened to the promise she made a few days ago?

            “My name is Hayden Collins,” Hayden says out of the blue.

            “I know,” I reply bluntly.

            “Are you two really sisters?” Hayden asks. I can tell that he’s trying to fix his earlier mistakes.

            I shift my weight to another foot as I answer, “Not really. I’m adopted.”

            “Oh…”

            Again we are engulfed in quietness. I have no idea what to talk about with Hayden. I’m the social awkward in school so I have absolutely no idea how to start a conversation. The only way I can join in one is when Wednesday is there to help me. I can’t imagine what will happen to me if she’s gone. Who will be there to help me face this world of judgments?

            “… like to dance?”

            “Pardon?”

            Hayden grins at me. “Would you like to dance?”

            I shake my head furiously as I take a few pace back. “No.”

            He gives me a strange look. “It’s a dance and you don’t want to dance?”

            “Let me rephrase that sentence for you, I don’t know how to dance,” I snap at him, looking around for someone I know so I can speak to that person and get away from Hayden.

            “I’ll teach you,” he declares with a challenging smirk.

            Horror washes over me as I remember the last time I danced. It was embarrassing to trip and fall on my butt in the middle of the dance floor during Wednesday’s tenth birthday party. Ever since that day, I vowed never to dance again.

            “You can’t make me,” I reply smugly.

            “A little dance won’t kill you, Emma,” Hayden attempts to persuade me. “I’ll get you anything if you dance with me.”

            My ears perk up when he says that. Hayden has no idea what he’s getting into. “Anything?” I question, raising a brow.

            He seems to realize this because his eyes are now as round as saucers. “Tell me what you want first. I don’t want to be broke after this.”

            I tap my foot as I think. Is there anything I want from him? It will be worth breaking my vow if he gets me what I want.

            “I just want a Starbuck’s latte,” I announce.

            He looks very surprised at my answer.

            “Starbuck’s latte?” he repeats, making sure that I’m not teasing him and ask him to buy an expensive gadget or something.

            I nod. “Yes, a Starbuck’s latte. I haven’t had one for years ever since…”

            “Deal! For now, let’s boogie!” Hayden interjects, grinning widely at me.

            I laugh at his choice of words. Hayden takes my hand and leads us towards the dance floor. I haven’t paid any attention to the music until now which is a ‘80s music. I see a few patients dancing.

            I guarantee I’m going to step on Hayden’s foot at least three times.

            “You need to loosen up. You’re too tense,” Hayden says, twirling me. I nearly knock into another couple nearby.

            “Dancing is torturous,” I mumble to myself, looking down at my feet so I wouldn’t accidentally stomp on Hayden’s foot. As much as I want to, I don’t want to attract attention just like the time during Wednesday’s tenth birthday party.

            “No, it’s not. You’re just making it difficult for you.”

            I glare at Hayden, not appreciating him speaking out loud about my flaw at dancing. Unable to contain my temper, I purposely step hard on his toe. He smiles at me, indicating that he’s not bothered by the pain.

            “Look at the bright side, you’re dancing!” Hayden takes this opportunity to twirl me again. I hate to say this but he’s right. He manages to distract me from worrying too much over my horrible dancing skills by telling me horrible jokes that cracks me up.

            Wednesday is by the sideline and has a Cheshire grin plastered on her face when she sees the both of us dancing. I roll my eyes at my sister, still angry that she ditched me.

            By nine o’clock, the light dims and the music slow down. The deejay is now playing slow romantic songs. I’m starting to get the hang of dancing. Now I don’t want to stop. Dancing helps me forget about Wednesday’s cancer. It helps me to forget my biological parents who left me in the orphanage when I was 5. It helps me to forget of the bullies in the orphanage who made my life miserable for five years. It helps me to forget how angry I was at the unfairness of life. If I had known that dancing helps me to get away from my life at least for awhile, I would have danced all the time. I silently thank Hayden for forcing me into dancing tonight. We can dance all night.

            “Emma?” Hayden asks.

            What a nice way to ruin my dancing mood. “Yes?”

            He stops dancing to look at Wednesday with sympathy. “I hope your sister gets well,” he says sincerely.

            I shake my head, not wanting to talk about it. It’s too painful to even think about it.

            Bang!

            Everyone looks to see Doctor Collins with his white coat over his tuxedo, panting. He has a crazed look on his face though he looks excited.

            “Everyone!” he yells. The deejay stops the music so everyone can hear Doctor Collins out.

            Doctor Collins takes a deep breath before saying, “I received a call from the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.”

            I look at him in confusion. What does that mean? Everyone in the hall also looks as confused as me.

            “They found a cure! A cure for Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia!”

            It takes a few minutes for all of us to process before the hall erupts in cheers. I glance at Wednesday who is crying out in happiness. I run to her and hug her tightly.

            This is a miracle I’ve been hoping for. After all these years, my prayers worked. I feel so grateful that my sister is going to live. She is going to be here with me.

            Wednesday is going to be fine.

            Wednesday is now hugging Ben and the rest of the patients. I have forgotten about Hayden after Doctor Collins announced the greatest news in my life.

            I spot Hayden a distance away from me, saying something. The loudness drowns his words away. Hayden seems to notice this so he starts to tap on his pocket. I stare at him, unable to comprehend his gesture. What on earth is he trying to tell me?

            I fish into my pocket to find a piece of napkin with my name scribbled messily on it.

            ‘Expect a latte tomorrow. -H’