Michael T. Mondak speaks: Small Battles, Big Victories Chapter 1: The Promise

Yesterday I introduced a story called Small Battles, Big Victories: The Cassie & Jackson Story.

Today I begin with chapter 1, titled The Promise.

April sunlight filtered through the pale curtains of Room 407 at Sharon Regional Medical Center, casting long stripes across the bed where Cassie Day, nine years old, lay surrounded by cards, flowers, balloons and stuffed animals.  A steady hum of machines filled the quiet, joined now and then by the soft beeping of her monitor.

She hadn’t been to Ionta Elementary in weeks.  The classroom she loved, her friends she missed, even the smell of fresh crayons—all of it had been replaced by antiseptic air and the click of nurses’ shoes on tile floors.

Cassie had cancer.

The word had scared her at first, but now she treated it like a challenge—something to outsmart.  She kept her sketchpad nearby, drawing clouds and lightning bolts, imagining herself someday announcing the weather on TV.  Cassie Day, meteorologist.  She whispered it sometimes, just to feel it float in the air.

That afternoon, the door opened quietly.  Her nurse, Julie, stepped inside, smiling.

“Cassie, someone special’s here to see you.”

Cassie blinked.  “Another doctor?”

Julie laughed.  “Not this time.  A visitor from Penn State.”

Cassie sat up a little, tugging her blanket closer.  “Penn State? Like the football team?”

Before she could ask more, a tall young man walked in, carrying a navy-blue gift bag.  His smile filled the room.

“Hey there,” he said, voice easy and warm.  “You must be Cassie Day.”

She nodded, curious.

“I’m Jackson Pryts, linebacker for Penn State.  Redshirt junior.  I heard you’re the toughest kid in the Shenango Valley.”

Cassie gave a tiny grin.  “They say that sometimes.”

Jackson set the bag on her tray table and pulled out a blue-and-white Penn State cap.  “Coach Terry Smith wanted me to bring this for you.  It’s got some luck sewn into it, so you’d better wear it.”

Cassie touched the brim like it was treasure.  “Real luck?”

“Guaranteed.”  He grinned.  “And if you wear that hat, I’ll wear my lucky wristband every game.  We’ll be teammates, deal?”

Cassie extended her pinky.  “Deal.”

For the next half hour they talked about everything—her drawings, his training, her favorite clouds (cumulonimbus, the stormy kind), and the ice cream at the Penn State Creamery.  Jackson told her about running out of the tunnel on Saturdays, the roar of the crowd, the sound of the band.  Cassie listened, wide-eyed, imagining it all.

When the nurse returned to check her IV, Jackson stood.  “I’ve got to head back to Happy Valley for workouts, but I’ll be thinking of you every time we take the field.”

Cassie hesitated, then asked, “Do you think Penn State will ever win the big one again?”

Jackson smiled.  “With you on our team?  Definitely.  And when we do—you’ll be there.”

Her eyes lit up.  “Really?”

He nodded solemnly.  “Promise.”

Cassie’s voice trembled with something between hope and disbelief.  “Okay.  Then I’ll get better.  You’d better win.”

Jackson chuckled.  “You get better; we’ll handle the rest.”

He reached out, squeezed her hand gently, then pointed to the cap on her nightstand.

“Keep that close, Captain Cassie.  That’s your sideline pass for when the time comes.”

Cassie smiled, eyes wet.  “Thank you, Jackson.”

He paused at the doorway, gave her a thumbs-up, and said quietly,

“For you, Cassie Day.  Every tackle.  Every game.”

And as the door closed behind him, Cassie turned the hat over in her hands, whispering to herself,

“Every tackle.  Every game.”

Outside, a spring storm began to roll in—thunder rumbling softly in the distance, like a heartbeat.