On the Victory Trail by Marsha Hubler

who can show you what to do.”
    â€œWho?” Sooze’s voice filled with hope. She turned and looked at Skye.
    â€œGod,” Skye said.
    Sooze’s eyes, bloodshot and troubled, searched Skye’s. “What?”
    â€œI said God can help you.”
    Sooze slid away from Skye and gave her a nasty scowl. “Where are you coming from with this God stuff again? I told you the other day I didn’t want to hear it! If God is so great, why would he let this happen to me?”
    â€œI don’t know — ”
    â€œWell — when you’ve got some answers, let me know,” Sooze cried. “I’m the one with this thing growing in my head! I don’t need anyone shoving religion down my throat along with everything else. Got it?”
    â€œGot it,” Skye said sadly. “But I want you to know that I’m here for you — and God is too.”

    Skye studied the brilliant blue sky that had come after the afternoon rain. She took in a lungful of cool evening air as she stood with Mrs. Chambers on the lopsided front porch of Sooze’s mother’s house.
    â€œWell, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Look at those bruises.” Skye could hear Mrs. Bodmer, even over the television chatter inside the house.
    â€œThanks for caring!” Skye heard Sooze snapping back.
    A few seconds passed before Sooze came back to the doorway and said, “Mom says it’s okay to come in.”
    Skye followed Sooze and Mrs. Chambers into a living room stacked with boxes and newspapers. Mrs. Bodmer lay on a haggard brown sofa that looked like a prop from a haunted house. Her pudgy body, dressed in a cherry-red halter top and jean shorts, absorbed the breeze from a fan. Her frizzy hair swirled in the breeze, and her stubby, ring-clad fingers, now decorated with long purple fingernails, held a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
    â€œCome on in,” Mrs. Bodmer’s gruff voice ordered above the noisy TV, “and shut the door tight. We don’t need any more flies in here!”
    â€œIt’s good to see you again,” Mrs. Chambers said loudly above the noisy TV. Sooze flopped into a sagging green chair and closed her eyes. Her head rested back on the dirty upholstery.
    Mrs. Chambers continued, trying to be heard. “We need to talk to you about your daughter, Mrs. Bodmer! About her progress so far, and — well — her health!”
    Mrs. Bodmer clicked off the TV, inhaled on her cigarette, and blew out a stream of smoke from her nose. Folding her arms, she squinted through the last puff of smoke that blew back in her face.
    â€œYeah, how’s the kid doing? When I called the hospital this morning, they said she was sleeping, so I didn’t want them to wake her. So what’s going on?” She looked at Sooze with obvious suspicion. “You aren’t getting into more trouble, are you, Susan? From the looks of you, trouble should’ve been your middle name!”
    Heavy silence hung over the room.
    â€œSkye, why don’t you and Sooze find something to do, so Mrs. Bodmer and I can talk alone?”
    â€œSure,” said Skye. Sooze reluctantly pulled herself out of the green chair, and the girls disappeared up the stairs to Sooze’s old room.
    Mrs. Chambers shifted from one foot to the other and then took a seat in the chair Sooze had vacated. “Mrs. Bodmer, I have some troubling news. The doctors ran some tests on Susan while she was at the hospital.”
    â€œTests?” Mrs. Bodmer said. She took a gulp from her can.
    â€œYes,” Mrs. Chambers said. “We had a meeting with two different doctors earlier today, and they think Sooze has a brain tumor.”
    â€œA brain tumor?” Slowly, Mrs. Bodmer sat forward onto the edge of the sofa, set her can on the coffee table, and eyed Mrs. Chambers skeptically. “That’s ridiculous!” she snorted. “What are you ­people trying to