Invincible Read Online Free

we start?” Mom says.
    â€œWell, there’s the question of Evie’s leg, of course. And her white blood cell counts aren’t great yet. And—”
    â€œNo,” I say.
    â€œWhat?” says Dad.
    â€œNo. I don’t want to do it.”
    â€œThe clinical trial?” Mom says. “We haven’t even heard the details yet.”
    â€œNot just the clinical trial. I mean all of it.”
    â€œEvie, you’re not feeling well,” Dad says. “You can’t be expected to make a decision right now.”
    â€œDad, I’m never feeling well. He said I have a four percent chance. I don’t want to go through all that again for four percent. It’s not worth it.”
    â€œOf course it’s worth it,” he growls. When feelings get too much, his sadness turns to anger.
    â€œFour to seven percent,” Mom pleads. “It could be seven.” Her sadness turns to desperation. Her sadness turns to the absurd.
    â€œOh my god,” Jenica says from the corner. Her whole body shakes. Somebody please go comfort her. Mom, Dad, she needs you too.
    â€œDr. Jacobs,” Dad says, his face getting red, his jaw getting tight, “will you please talk some sense into her?”
    Dr. Jacobs looks at them both, then at me. He holds my gaze for a while, and I know he is on my side. “As a doctor, I’m almost always for trying anything possible. But that’s not always the right decision for a family. You have to weigh your options very carefully. Treatment is really, really hard. Physically and emotionally. Evie knows that better than any of us.”
    Mom’s mouth is open in disbelief. I think Dad may actually hit him.
    After an excruciatingly long pause, Dr. Jacobs finally says, “I think you should listen to your daughter.”
    Yes. Finally. Somebody cares what I think. Feelings flood my body, but they leave so quickly I can’t name any of them. What if I don’t know what I think?
    â€œI want a second opinion,” Dad says immediately.
    â€œThat’s absolutely your right,” Dr. Jacobs says. “But I should remind you that I am the head of oncology, and diagnoses and prognoses are made by an entire team of doctors. Everybody’s been a part of Evie’s treatment. I’m afraid there isn’t a doctor here who will tell you anything different.”
    â€œWe’ll go to a different hospital, then.”
    â€œDad, no,” I say. “You can’t make me. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t make you do this anymore.”
    â€œDon’t worry about us, Evie. We’ll do whatever it takes.”
    â€œI know. That’s the problem. Sometimes you have to know when to stop.”
    Silence. Too much silence. It’s heavy. Crushing. It will flatten us all.
    Then Jenica’s phone rings and wipes the air clean.
    â€œDammit, Jenica!” Dad shouts. “Will you turn that damn thing off?”
    â€œSorry.” She fumbles for her phone, hands shaking. I silently thank whoever called her.
    â€œCan you give us some time alone, Doctor?” Mom says softly. “This is a lot to process.”
    â€œOf course. Let one of the nurses know if you want me paged, okay?” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “You too, kiddo. If you have any questions. You have me and Dan and the nurses and counselors all here to help you.”
    â€œI know,” I say. “Okay.”
    â€œI’m going to work on putting together a palliative care team for Evie. It’ll be me, Dan, a social worker and counselor, the chaplain if you want, and a nurse, probably Nurse Moskowitz.”
    â€œUgh,” I say.
    Dr. Jacobs chuckles, and the sound of it is shocking. “Whatever you decide to do, we’re going to do this together, and we’re going to make you as comfortable as possible.”
    â€œThank you, Dr. Jacobs,” Mom says. Dad shakes his hand reluctantly, then the doctor walks