Gus opened his mouth to respond but then stopped himself. His mom filled the silence.
“Well, I think that’s wonderful.” They talked to me for a bit about how the enchiladas were Famous Waters Enchiladas
and Not to Be Missed and about how Gus’s curfew was also ten,
and how they were inherently distrustful of anyone who gave their kids curfews other than ten,
and was I in school—“she’s a college student,” Augustus interjected—
and how the weather was truly and absolutely extraordinary for March, and how in spring all things are new,
and they didn’t even once ask me about the oxygen or my diagnosis, which was weird and wonderful,
and then Augustus said, “Hazel and I are going to watch V for Vendetta so she can see her filmic doppelgänger, mid-two thousands Natalie Portman.”
“The living room TV is yours for the watching,” his dad said happily. “I think we’re actually gonna watch it in the basement.”
His dad laughed. “Good try. Living room.” “But I want to show Hazel Grace the basement,” Augustus said.
“Just Hazel,” I said. “So show Just Hazel the basement,” said his dad. “And then come upstairs and watch your movie in the living room.”
Augustus puffed out his cheeks, balanced on his leg, and twisted his hips, throwing the prosthetic forward.
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