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It started out as all Friday afternoons do. I was walking down the catwalk with my friend. Jessika, having the typical meaningless conversation that often occurs between my high school peers and me. Then, with one simple question, I learned why my mother gets so upset when I leave for school with out slathering my self with that messy white suncream.

What are you doing tonight?
“I don’t know, I have to go to the hospital right now.”
“What? Why on earth do you need to go to the hospital?”

At that point Jessica calmly pulled down the neckline of her tee shirt to reveal an extremely dark freckle, of which I have a plethora of covering my body.

“I’ve got skin cancer. I’m having it removed.”

I just stood there and stared. I’ve known grandparents and other adults with diverse forms of cancers, but never my 16-year-old friends. I admit, this was not as harsh as other types of cancer one could be plagued with, it was merely skin cancer, the, I believe, least harmful form of cancer, but she was so calm about it.

“I’ll call as soon as I get home.”
“All right, see you later.”

I’ve started wearing sunscreen.

note: This is the first thing I’ve written here. I’m still learning the ropes of this place, so it would be nice to get some feedback on what I’ve done right, and what I’ve done wrong.

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