The Skull of Truth by Bruce Coville

Author:Bruce Coville
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

NINE

Gilbert

“Hi,” said Gilbert. That was all. Just “Hi.”

Charlie realized he had secretry been hoping Gilbert would make this easy for him, would say, “Don’t worry, Charlie. I understand. I’m not mad.”

But he just sat there, holding his book.

“So, how you doing?” asked Charlie.

Gilbert shrugged. “Not real great.”

Suddenly Charlie’s worries about himself faded into the background as he realized yet one more truth: Though he had been assuming that sooner or later Gilbert was going to get better, he had no idea if that was really the case. Maybe Gilbert wasn’t going to get better.

Ever.

Charlie felt his knees wobble. Forcing his legs to stay under control, he climbed the steps. “I’m sorry,” he said when he got to the top. “About Friday. About what I said. It was stupid. I didn’t mean to, it just came out. After I said it I wished—” He broke off. He had been about to say he had wished he was dead, but that wasn’t true. He swallowed, then finished lamely, “I wished I hadn’t.”

“I wished you hadn’t, too,” said Gilbert, with a small laugh.

Charlie nodded. Looking at the spot that used to be his, where he had spent so many hours reading and talking and laughing, he said, “Can I sit down?” Then, before Gilbert could answer, his traitor mouth opened again and asked, “Is it safe?”

Gilbert closed his eyes. “It’s safe, Charlie. You can’t catch what I have.”

“How did you get it?” asked Charlie, settling nervously into his old spot.

Gilbert shrugged. “No one knows for sure. It’s just something that goes wrong in your body. But it’s not catching. And it has a name, Charlie. I have—had—cancer. They cut it out. But I have to have treatment to make sure it doesn’t come back. That’s what made my hair fall out. It makes me puke a lot, too. And feel tired. I hate it. I hate it more than I can tell you.”

Charlie felt tears start up in his eyes.

Before he could say anything Gilbert’s face hardened, and he turned away. The pale skin of his head gleamed in the afternoon sun, making it look almost like—a skull.

“I’m sorry,” said Charlie, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Gilbert turned back, and it was as if a curtain had been drawn behind his eyes. “I didn’t mean to say all that,” he muttered.

Charlie wondered if the curse of the skull was stretching out from him, forcing Gilbert to speak the truth as well. Aloud he said, “Can I help?”

Gilbert shrugged again. “Not unless you want to take my treatments for me. But I don’t think that would do either of us any good.”

Charlie laughed. But it was just a small laugh. An uncomfortable one. Because, watching Gilbert shrug, he had just figured out what he had to do to make things up to him.

And he didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

“Gilbert,” called a voice from inside the house, “I want you to come in and take your nap now.”

Gilbert sighed. “That sounds so baby!”

But Charlie, hearing the tiredness in his friend’s voice, knew it was time to leave.

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