Your Medical Diagnosis Is ... : Booktalk 2

[Once again, you’ll be doing first-person narration. If you have any football stuff, like a helmet, wear it. Or, if you have any books by or about Malcolm X, hold them, cover facing out.]

I don’t look sick, do I? [Long pause.] Yeah, I got you fooled, just like everyone else: my parents, my teachers, my girlfriend, and my brother, who is also my best friend. Before my senior year in high school started, I had my routine physical, along with bloodwork. And I got some very bad news. Yeah, I’m terminal. Terminal, as in - dying. Dead. Gone. Sooner rather than later. It’s a blood disease, and I’m not going to bore you with the gory details. [Put your hand up to your ear as if you missed a comment from the audience.] What’s that? Skip school? Are you kidding? And miss all the drama? Miss being around the hottest girl in school, who actually _chooses_ to hang out with me? Miss being around my ignorant government teacher, who spews propaganda in spite of my efforts to correct him? Miss being on the football team? [Pause, look insulted.] Yes, that’s right, I made the team. Okay, so the coach is a close personal friend of the family. Okay, so the only sport I only have a chance with is cross country. I’m dying: I might as well go all out. You know all those people who say “I’d like to do X before I die?” Well, that’s my own personal homework assignment that I created just for me. There’s something else you need to know. I’m 18, which means I can keep my medical stuff all to my lonesome self. If I want to tell my parents, that’s fine. If I don’t want to tell them, well, heck, that’s perfectly legal, too. So which did I choose? Get the book, lazybones. Don’t give me that look - you’d be difficult, too. I’m under deadline. Deadline by Chris Crutcher.

Deadline by Chris Crutcher. 316 p. Greenwillow Books, 2007. Booktalk to high school, adult.