Once Upon A Dime (hiatus)

25. Fondness and Farewells

How gushy do I sound right now? Probably, on a scale of 1 to 10, I'm at about a solid 24.

"Um... Jenny? Are you okay? You haven't said anything for about 8 minutes... I thought you followed me downstairs."

"What?" I burp, blinking my eyes clear of any remaining images of my friends. "Oh. Right."

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"Does he know?"

"Does who know?"

"He. Kenny."

"Oh. That 'who'." I chuckle. "No. He doesn't. I--I don't know how to tell him."

Jackson rubs his aged face with his even older hands, and comes back up looking sleepy. "You know he's going to flip out when you tell him."

"When?" I arch an eyebrow, and I get a well deserved scowl in response.

"Jenny," He massages his eyebrows so that they look like dancing caterpillars. "I want the best for you guys, and I am truly bummed that you're leaving in like, a day, but honestly; tell him now, or I will!"

"Okay, okay, okay." I wave my hands relentlessly in his face, only smacking him a few times to be clever. "But if I have to do it, you have to be extra nice to Paris!"

"What?" He blinks, suffocating in his confusion. "Why? Where's she going?"

"What? She's my sister. She's coming with us." I say slowly, not quite understanding his implications.

"What?" He rasps, his fingers forming tight balls. His expression suddenly drops, and he falls lifeless in his chair.

Mr. Dolton crows out to us to 'button-our-traps', but we continue anyway.

"I forgot... She's leaving."

His head falls to his lap, and I can vaguely hear the slight sound of a congested nose trying it's best to sniff.

"C'mon, now." I whine sadly, rubbing his shoulders. "I'm at the same stage as you. Just-- Come over to my house after school and spend time with her, yeah?"

He looks up, dreary eyed and red skinned. "Yeah, okay."

"Actually-- Why wait? I'm leaving here in a day." I stop my pumping train of thoughts, and stand from my seat. "I'll just go tell him right now.

"But--"

I smile widely, ignoring Mr. Dolton's outrageous, flabbergasted pumpkin for a face, and flee through the doors and into the parking lot. I spot Dad's red Camry at the back, secretly thanking myself for having brought it today.

I climb in and close the door behind me, when I hear the crinkle of a paper somewhere beneath my feet. My eyes trail towards the pedals below, only to see a mashed piece of a letter beneath my Converse. I grapple for it, bringing it up to my eyes.

....Oh. It's the paper that started it all. The letter from the medical department saying that Kenny has tested positive for Huntington's.

How swell. I skim over the deadly, yet familiar paragraph of letters, when I come upon the sentence I had stopped reading. My eyebrows shoot off my face, as it's meaning settles in.

"I send my sincerest condolences to you and your family. Now, if you continue reading, you can read about the possible cures and treatment options."

What the crap does that mean?! I studied this! There is no cure! ...

Or is there?

"Here at the Asotin Medical Research Center, or AMRC for short, we are one of the few American facilities that is equipped with a functioning laboratory for the sole purpose of the Huntington's cure procedure. In regular terms, we are one of the only hospital's with a surgical room dedicated to Huntington's patients. To answer your question, yes, there is an experimental cure, however the success rate is only 65% out of 100%. If you have any questions, please dial..."