Six Months to Live by Lurlene McDaniel Page A

time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;.
    4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;.
    5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;.
    6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;.
    7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;.
    8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
    Dawn pondered the page for a long while. It was true. Sandy’s “season” was over. She’d gone home to God. The thought brought Dawn great comfort and made her more determined than ever to live her own “season” to its fullest. She shut the box and put it away on a shelf.
    Cheerleading practice was over. Dawn slammed her locker shut and mopped her face with a tissue. It had been a hard workout.
    “Want to go over to the Video Shak?” Jill asked. “Kathy, Rhonda, and I are going to get a soda. Boy! Am I whipped!”
    “You go on ahead,” Dawn told them, spinning the dial on her combination lock. “I’ll catch up. I have a few things to do.”
    “All right,” Jill said. “We’ll meet you there. Hurry!”
    Dawn watched the trio of chattering girls head off down the hall. She’d meet up with them later. She glanced down the deserted hall, lingering
    casually, waiting for the football team to crash through the gym doors. Their practice was over. Jake might pass her way any minute.
    Dawn clutched her hooks to her chest and tried to look preoccupied. But it was hard to do in an empty hall. She grew nervous. He 11 know you hung around waiting! she chided herself. Who do you think you’re kidding, Rochelle?
    Finally, after a short internal war, she decided to try and catch her friends and quickly left the hallway. Outside, the blustery November wind blew cold and shivery in her face. She’d forgotten her sweater in her locker. “Great,” she moaned privately.
    Overhead, gray clouds scudded across the sky and bare tree branches scraped against each other. Dawn hurried, but she couldn’t see her friends in the distance. Now she’d have to walk alone. Waiting for Jake
    dumb idea, she chastised herself.
    “Hey, Dawn! Wait up!” Jake’s voice called to her. She stopped dead in her tracks and spun, her heart pounding. She managed a feeble smile, hoping that she looked more casual than she felt.
    “Where’re you going?” he asked. The wind blew his dark, freshly washed hair over his forehead. She wanted to reach up and flip it away with her fingers.
    “To the Video Shak,” she said.
    “Me, too,” he told her after a brief pause. “Can
    I walk there with you?” He smiled.
    She nodded, and he fell into step beside her. They scuffled along through the dead leaves in awkward silence.
    “I-uh, I’m sorry about your friend,” he said.
    She shrugged. “A lot of kids are cured,” she said, then felt stupid for saying it.
    “Yeah,” he said. “I did some reading about it.” Dawn shivered. “You’re cold!” he added. It was a statement, not a question.
    “I forgot my sweater in my locker,” she said.
    He stopped, dropped his books to the ground and pulled off his jacket. He draped it over her shoulders. She snuggled against it. It was still warm from his body and smelled faintly of soap and shampoo. He laughed. “It’s about four sizes too big,” he said.
    Her cheeks flushed. “Thanks,” she said. “It’s nice and warm.”
    Jake bent, scooped up his books and they resumed walking to the Video Shak. “It’s the season,” he said.
    “What?” she asked, with a slight gasp.
    “The season,” he explained, startled by her response. “You know, the season for Thanksgiving, the season for Christmas, the season for snow.” He laughed slightly and admitted, “Hike the snow. I like ice skating and snowball fights, you know, dumb stuff.”
    Dawn smiled at him and nodded. “I like