It was a lazy Monday afternoon, and my class was attempting to focus on the new times tables that Ms. Peterson assigned. Expressions of perplexity plagued their faces, but a beckoning blue sky diffused a sense of hope throughout the classroom. I squirmed in my desk, staring at my blank worksheet. The questions had become a splotchy blur and all I could focus on was the rhythmic tick of the clock. The two hands were playing an ever so sedate game of tag.

        Tick.
        Tock.

        Tick.

        The air had become so stagnant, so quiet, so disconcerting, that one could have sliced through it with a scalpel. I glanced to my left. The empty desk permeated the air like the cheese sandwich that I forgot in my bag over the summer. I felt the all too familiar tears begin to caress my eyes. It was too painful; my mind began to drift to another place, another time…
        "Come play on the swings with me Josie!” I squealed with delight. The sun shone brightly and not a cloud covered the flawless blue sky. I hopped on my favorite swing and threw my legs forth, savoring the fresh breeze. The leaves were revealing their fall colors, some glowing flame orange or burning fiery red. Josie swooped besides me, her finger tips touching the sapphire heavens. “Look at me!” I exclaimed. My miniscule hands slipped from their loose hold and I ricocheted from the swing, landing gracefully on the soft earth. “Come on Josie! Don’t be a scaredy cat!” I insisted. Josie’s soft azure eyes were translucent, as if she did not recognize my existence. My pleading face pouted at her from below and I tried to coax her downwards, but it was no use. Josie flew back and forth, higher and higher, her face assuming an angelic expression of absolute content. “Josie! Why can’t you hear me?” I screamed. An iron-clad grip seized my heart; I was shaking and pale from head to toe.
        "RING!”
        A sharp shrill bursted out of the class telephone, breaking the silence like a screaming ambulance screeching past a graveyard.             
        Ms. Peterson answered. She spoke in a hushed voice and all I could catch was “are you sure?” and “what should I do now?” Her complexion had become a sickly grey. The room was filled with faint murmurs, rumors, and wild speculations. One girl whispered, “I know what this is about. It’s that kid, Ruthie. She’s been skipping school again.”  A boy answered, “No way! It’s gotta be Andrew’s parents. I heard that they were breaking up.” But I knew. I was perched anxiously in my chair, waiting for the clock to tick that final time, the time that would let me leave my worries behind.
        The click of the phone hanging up spurred the class’s attention. Complete silence. Ms. Peterson fixed her eyes on me, and I noticed that they were misted with tears. “Sara, your mom is out in the hallway. She wants to speak to you.” she whispered. I reluctantly slid off of my chair, and the class’s eyes followed me out the door. Ms. Peterson clicked the door shut behind me and I found my mom. She seemed rugged and distressed, adorned in a grey sweatsuit that had seen better days. She crouched down low, catching my resistant gaze. She began, “Sara, sweetie, I know how close you were to your friend Josie.”
        My thoughts were a foggy mist. I could only catch a few words, words that I had been trying to ignore for way too long.
        She told me that the chemotherapy had failed.
        And that the leukemia had escalated.
        And that there was nothing that could have prevented her death this morning.
        "We knew that there was little hope for her recovery, but it still took us all by surprise.” she continued. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through, Sara.”
        My mind drifted back to the playground, what used to be my mind’s safe haven. The empty swing set now looked foreboding. Josie became nothing more than an apparition. The garish sun began to shift behind a cover of thick, grey clouds. Fat, heavy drops of rain violently punched down the thin veil between my delusion and reality.
        Why did she have to leave me? Why couldn’t I say goodbye one final time?
      The last time that I had seen her was only two weeks ago. I sprinted up the hospital stairs, excited to finally see my friend. I had memorized the room number and I was so thrilled that I burst in without knocking. The nurse scolded, “Show some respect! She needs her rest!” but I was too appalled by what I saw to take heed. Josie slumped languidly in a hospital gown as drugs were pumped into her frail body. The lustrous golden locks that I had always admired were gone. Josie seemed so meager, as if a soft breeze could blow her away.  Her spirit, zest, and vivaciousness had all but evaporated and all that she could manage was a faint smile. She whispered,”I miss you Sara. I can’t wait until I get better so we can go outside and play tag and eat popsicles and, and…” She trembled in her hospital gown as the drugs continued to cascade down her veins. My heart was an incessant hammer pounding against my chest; my face paled ghastly white and I could feel myself rumble like a clunky engine. My seven year old mind simply could not fathom the rapid transformation that had taken place in my once effervescent friend Disoriented and upset, I breathed a rushed goodbye and hurried out into the maze of fluorescent-bright hallways.

       Today, I realize that the quivering, pale girl surrounded by nurses and pounding IV tubes was not Josie; she was merely an apparition. Josie died the day that snow days and wee pink candies and afternoons at the pool refused to bring a gap-toothed smile to her face. Josie died the day that her mama’s eyes widened with fear and sobbed with anguish. Josie died the day that I could not hold her hand and tell her that everything would be okay. In my mind, Josie will forever make me laugh, beat me at tag, and help me tie my shoes. That is the Josie that will forever be there for me.