Three months have passed since Jordan was diagnosed with cancer, and most people have no idea there’s anything wrong with her at all. The hair has grown back around the area of her surgery, concealing the crescent scar behind her left ear. The color has returned to her skin and her eyes are full of life. She giggles, jumps, climbs and colors, just like other kids. It is easy for all around her to dismiss reality.

It was the smallest tooth I’ve ever seen. Jordan held it proudly in the palm of her hand. It was a long-time coming, this one. Lucas began losing his baby teeth at five, but Jordan has been stingy with hers. 2:45 pm was the exact time of separation, duly noted by her kindergarten teacher. Poetically, she marks this rite of passage on the same day as another milestone in her life: the final day of her first chemotherapy cycle.

The big blonde kid, number 9, smashed through our middle line. I think they called him Riley. He was unusually tall. A parent from the sideline joked that he drove himself to the game. He was fast, too, though he didn’t look it. He sped past our center and fixed his sights on our goal. Our defenders, only two in range, scrambled into position. My eyes swept the field in search of support.

It feels diabolical. Before you break the capsule, you have to put on latex gloves. The contents are toxic. When it splits open, the poison snows out in a powdery dust that quickly disappears into a marsh of apple sauce. The best way to conceal any hint of the drug’s bitter taste is to throw in a dash of candy sprinkles. Once added, the mixture stains from pale yellow to electric blue.

“Read ‘Red, but Not So Dead’,” Lucas begged enthusiastically. It is the title of an article about the discovery of methane gas on Mars. He chomps on a wedge of “sunrise quesadilla”, a breakfast he requested; tortilla grilled with cheese and scrambled eggs. He half-stands in his chair, one knee bent upon the seat while the other straddles the floor. It is his normal dining posture, though it drives his mother crazy.