It was a day of eagerness spent waiting like a little kid in line at the ice cream truck. Only this was not the sweet taste of an ice cream cone, but the bitter taste of a tear as it slid down my cheek to my lips. I glance over at my older brother Connor; a dazed expression lingered on his face as he wiped his eyes.

My parents finally came out of the room with the doctor and my sister Olivia. I look up, Olivia’s eyes were watery, but still had a hint of cluelessness. My parents looked as if they were slapped across the face with a mixture of sadness and guilt. Everything happened so fast, I did not know what was going on.



It all started back in the summer when little miss Olivia was complaining of her upper arm hurting. My parents continued to tell her she was fine and to brush it off; she had fallen off her friend’s trampoline. I remember her saying she couldn’t raise it above her head. None of us worried, seeing that no swelling or bruising had occurred.

Months had passed, summer days faded into fall leaves and a crisp breeze. It was now soccer season for my sister and I. We both carried on with our long practices everyday, exhausting games, and our homework waiting to be done once we finished dinner. During our time together in our room when we would finally have some down time, she made me constantly wonder and worried about her arm. She’s a tough kid, tough as nails; so why was she acting so sensitive about it lately?

As soccer season reared to an end with only a few games left, Olivia began to have a fever of 102 degrees. Her only symptoms were that awful fever and tiredness. She wasn’t throwing up or anything, so my father pushed her to finish the soccer season.

Days passed. The once colorful leaves fell, dusting the ground with a muddy, gloomy shade. November was almost ready for December to take on its place. However, this all slowed when we discovered an unusual lump on Olivia’s arm.

My parents called doctors and took her to appointments to see what it was. The doctors had come to the conclusion that she needed x-rays. I remember this day as clear as water. My father had to take Olivia to a doctor’s office down in Essex to get her x-rays. I remember receiving a text message from my father. When I opened it during math class, it was an image of my blue eyed, blonde haired, freckle faced little sister with her goofy smile sitting across from my father at a restaurant. Here I was in class smiling at my phone, a wave of relief washed over me. It was nothing after all! She’s gonna be okay!

When I got home from school that day, my dad had told my brother, mom and I that she only had a slight fracture from the fall and that it was already healing; she just had to wear a sling for a little while. The Belcourt household was full of happy spirits once again, no stress left to be found.

A couple of days went by; we were all getting ready for the next big holiday: Thanksgiving. Only our thoughts on the divine foods and seeing family members soon faded into the cool grey sky that was welcoming winter. Olivia’s swelling had began to spread down to her forearm. My mother began to panic and say how this wasn’t part of a healing process, seeing she’s in the medical field herself. My father being the positive man he is, told her to calm down and that he would call the doctor. When my father called, the doctor seemed as if he was hiding something and just continued to say how this was normal; neverless, it wasn’t.

The following day, I was at home doing my homework with Olivia and Connor. My mother was still at work and my dad was in the kitchen. The phone had rung, and my dad answered. I studied him carefully as his expression changed and he went outside to take the call.

Minutes went by and he eventually came inside. Only the man who came inside did not look like my father. He looked older, drowsy, a sense of fear remained in his eyes. He acted as if he never got the call in the first place, although his expression made it clear this was not good news.

“Connor and Emma come upstairs for a minute, Olivia stay here.” was all he had said in a breathless voice that was trying to remain steady. The three of us arrived in my brother’s room, my father had shut the door. “Dad, what’s wrong?” Connor had asked in a concerned manner. We waited in shock as our dad tried to choke back his tears.

This was so unusual to witness, our father was a strong, positive man. He was always smiling, with dancing blue eyes just waiting to unleash one of his wise crack jokes. Now his eyes only grew bloodshot and darkened as he told us about the phone call. His voice was still shaky as he explained to us the doctor had called. Apparently in the blood tests from the x-rays something else had shown up. We had to wait until my mother came home for us to take a ride up to the hospital where they would tell us what it was. I guess it was too personal to be told over the phone. However, the doctor had mentioned that some of the chances could be cancer or an infection.

My brother and I stared in disbelief at our father as he continued to talk. His words soon started to make no sense to me. Cancer? Infection? She’s only 11...Why couldn’t it be me...Why her? Suddenly i snapped back into reality when my father had said, “Okay Emma? We are going to do our best in being positive around your little sister until the identification has been made.”

45 minutes later my mother had walked into the house. A pain stricken look was on her face as she tried to plaster on a smile for my little sister. Olivia was still unaware of the situation. She only knew that we were taking a trip to the hospital.

Eventually the five of us got in the car for what seemed like the longest 20 minutes of my life. I sat staring out the window in utter dumbfoundedness. Olivia sat between my brother and I in the back. My parents were in the front trying to ask how our days had went. Their attempt at trying to fill the thick air of silence only seemed to make me feel worse.

Olivia talked on and on about how her day was; what friend did this and what friend did that. Her happy, little, expressive voice made me want to burst into tears. No Emma, be strong, she needs you to rely on, you to be there for her. Her cluelessness was tearing at the seams of my chest. It wasn’t fair that she had to be the last to find out what was happening.

Once we arrived at the Children’s Hospital in Hartford, we made our way up to the floor that she needed to be on. When we got to the reception desk, my father and mother had my brother and I take Olivia over to the waiting room while they went over the paperwork with the receptionist.

I remember sitting in the cushioned chairs watching Madagascar 3 play on the wall of the waiting room by the projector. Since this was the children’s floor, they played movies to keep the young ones occupied.

As we sat there waiting, Olivia kept trying to joke around with me and what not, but my eyes were glued to the talking animals singing and dancing. It was so ironic that such a fun-loving, family movie was playing at a time and place like this. Everyone on the screen was so happy. Why? Why did we all have to keep pretending everything was alright? What good is it to go on living with fake smiles and gestures trying to hide the reality of things?

Just then my thoughts were broken, “Emma are you crying?” Olivia had asked. I looked into her blue concerned eyes, “I um, just bit my tongue, that’s all” I had replied, voice shaky. She was called to go to the doctor’s room with my parents, she kept glancing back at me, confused.


The last thing I had told my sister before everything changed was a lie. A punch of guilt pierced me right in the stomach. I was left sitting in that cushioned chair, watching the stupid, happy movie, crying, while everyone else around me went on with their fakeness. I lied to my bestfriend: my sister.



And now here we were, the five of us in that waiting room taking in all the final news. “Cancer...Infection...Surgery...She’ll be in the hospital for a couple days...” I was like a sponge trying to absorb too much water all at once.

Olivia would be having surgery within the next two days to figure out what was in her arm. That night once we were home from the hospital, I slept with Liv in her bed. I held her so tight not wanting anything bad to happen to her. I felt as if I was a protective barrier to keep the bad away: if only. She’s too young God, please.

The day of her surgery I had basketball practice until 5:45. Because her surgery was at around two, I wasn’t able to hear any news before practice. My parents went up with her together for the procedure. So right after basketball had ended my grandparents brought my brother and I up to the hospital to visit.

The impatience that swept over me during the car-ride was unbearable. Finally, we reached the room where Liv would be staying for the next four days. After putting on gowns to keep bacteria out, I hurried into see her.

It was so foolish of me to think she’d be in her high spirits. I took in her weary, pained, young face. On the brightside, the lump in her arm had only been an infection. However, the incision ended up being way larger than they had planned on. Olivia had to have two tubes draining one arm and an IV in the other during her stay at the hospital. Although Olivia was out of it because of the medication that night, we stayed until around nine; my father stayed overnight with her.

I visited everyday to Olivia for a good four to five hours or as soon I got out of practice. I love that little angel of mine; nothing or nobody was going to keep me from seeing her. Absolutely nothing mattered to me: school, friends, basketball, nothing. It was all about Liv.

Once she was able to leave her room and walk around the hospital, it was scary to see how fragile she had looked. Although she had dropped ten pounds in four days, her high spirits were almost back to the way they were. My parents would get so frustrated at times with me because I had her laughing so hard. I guess they didn’t want her IVs coming out or anything! Those visits were some of the best days of my life. Nothing else seemed important to me during that week; making her smile was my only comfort and goal.

Eventually, Livi was out of the hospital. The infection had become unknown because her body had already began to fight it off. She had to have a thin wire that was inserted to her opposite arm and traveled all the way to her heart. This was known as a picc line which was used to give her antibiotics for 30 days, twice a day. As that month flew by, Olivia was back to her healthy self banging around all those little girls in her physical sports.

From those visits in the hospital, to doing Livi’s medicine for her picc line at times when my parents weren’t around; nothing could have made us closer. Although we were close before, it was different now. This little s*** of mine--Olivia--and I, Emma, are now ready to take on whatever the world and its challenges throw at us. Together.