Life's not fair- deal with it!

Life’s not fair- deal with it

~Chapter 1: Introduction

“Danny! Get up! It’s 6:00, and you’re going to be late if you don’t hurry!” I awaken from the oh-so-lovely sound of my mother’s screeches from in the kitchen about 6 yards away from my room, when, she knows just as well as I do, that I’m already up. I’m a morning person. And for that, I will be forever grateful. I can go to bed at 11:00, and wake up at 5:00, on my own, without being phased at all, during the day. That was why I insisted my mother not waste thirty bucks on an alarm clock that we both know would be unnecessary. My dad agreed with me, and, reluctantly, she gave in. I sigh, and roll over onto my back, hoping for the life of me, that I can squeeze in five minutes before she realizes that I’m not up. I burrow down under the covers, and for my mother’s good hearing, I bounce a little on the bed, making the metal springs under my lumpy mattress cry out. She’s not fooled. She comes into my room, with a glass of ice water, not two seconds after I’m snuggled in, and dumps it all over my head. “Hey!” I squeal, as she chuckles, throwing her head back, so that I can see her tonsils. She holds her big, pregnant belly. She’s four months, now, and I can’t wait until the baby comes. Most kids my age (fifteen) would be really pissed off about this, but not me. Babies are one of my few interests in the world. I’ve always longed for the satisfaction of watching them grow before your eyes. For the first year or so, everything’s a first. First steps, first real meal (not milk or applesauce), first steps, first word, first bath, first smile, first laugh… I can’t wait for that baby to come. I’ll watch him (or her) grow with more interest and dedication than any other big sister in the whole entire world. I’m going to be the perfect sister for them. And I can’t wait. “Get up, you.” She replied, flashing me a grin. I smile back, and sigh, listening to her heavy footsteps as she walks back to the kitchen to resume her usual morning routine: coffee and news, the daily paper, and then a breakfast of some sort of gourmet pastry that I know we can’t really afford. Mom works as a Real Estate Agent, but the pay isn’t half what it should be, considering what a good job she does. She sold a four-story house (mansion) last week, and we’re in a recession! In about two months, though, the doctor’s making her take time off work until at least a month after the baby’s born. Dad works at FedEx, as one of the drivers. He’s good at his job, and the people like him, but it’s pretty minimum-wage. I quietly get up from my bed, trying not to awaken my sister. Bell, who is six years old, and very proud of that fact. She dozes quietly, in her small bed on the other side of our room. That’s what sucks about our house- not enough room for our four (soon to be five) people-sized-family. We live in Maine, in a little town called Chillbreeze. Ironic name, I know. It’s march, and the high is only 30 degrees today, and our heating is out. I slept in flannel sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, a hoodie, and… uh-oh. I forgot socks. I brace myself for the cold rush that’s about to about numb my feet, but, still, I gasp when my feet hit the cold, wooden floor. I shiver, and grab some clothes out of my dresser. I choose my favorite pair of skinny-jeans, some black wool tights, (for under them, to keep me warm) a dark- purple soccer hoodie, a white long sleeved t-shirt, and some clean undies and a bra. I pad over to the bathroom, and can’t stop myself for letting a gasp slip out of me, when my bare feet hit the icy tile. Dang it. Forgot socks again. I sigh, and jog back to my bedroom to grab some. Without thinking, I yank open my old wooden dresser drawers. It squeals loudly, and I jerk my head over toward my sister. She stirs, in her sleep, snoring quietly, but does not wake up. I sigh, relieved, and head back to the bathroom. I flick on the light, and look skeptically at my reflection. My long, blonde hair is matted, and tangled. It comes down to my elbows, and I long for gorgeous blue eyes to match, but look reluctantly at my own chocolaty brown ones. My skin is slightly tanned from last month, when we went to Mexico for Thanksgiving break. My parents are both only children, and both my grandparents are dead, so we usually take advantage of this time off to have quality family vacations. I absolutely adored Mexico, and just thinking about it makes me long for the blistering heat, perfect blue skies, and crystal clear water. I sigh, and look out my window at the ice on the ground, and grey- green sky that, betraying me, is a definite give-away for rain… which means snow. I sigh loudly, and strip down, quickly, and weigh myself on the scale that we keep in the bathroom. I do this often because I’m slightly underweight for kids my age, and long to gain. 99.2. The lowest this week. I scowl down at the numbers, and step off, onto our fuzzy lime rug that lies in front of the sink. Quickly, I slip into my favorite underwear (gym today) and a plain white sports bra. I struggle into the impossible tights, and then into my skinny-jeans. I search around for my shirt, but when I can’t find it, I figure I probably left it in the bedroom. I stick my head out the door, since I’m still in my bra, and slip into my bedroom, where it lies on the floor on top of my sister’s head. I grimace. She’ll wake up for sure. I glare at my black and white Great Dane, Molly, who lies innocently on my bed. No doubt, her doings- she loves to chew on clothes for a couple minutes, then tuck them into odd places. She looks like a cow, and barely fits on my bed. She’s only four, though, and great Danes tend to live 9 to 10 years, so she’s considered pretty young, but has reached her full growth. I step cautiously across my floor, careful to avoid the squeaky places. I remove the shirt off her head, carefully, as if it was a surgical operation. Her lids fly open, and she blinks, sleepily at me. “Danny… Tell your dog to start making itself useful, and putting clothes away, instead of on my head,” she grumbles, still groggy from sleep. I nod, but can’t help giggling, a little when I get back into the bathroom- her hair looks like Albert Einstein- stiff, and wild. I slip the shirt over my head, along with the warm fleece hoodie. I pull a brush through my hair a couple times, feeling lazy. Quickly, I smear some toothpaste on my toothbrush, and do quick, precise little circles on each tooth, carefully, so to get all the plaque and food out of my braces. I jog back to my room, and pull on my ancient pair of black Chuck Taylor high tops, because I have gym, today, and I don’t feel like screwing up my brand new red ones. I grab my book bag, and haul it into the kitchen where my mother sits at the counter, sipping her coffee, reading the newspaper with her giant glasses, that always make me laugh. Her small, fragile face looks even tinier behind them. She smiles, “I swear, one day your back is going to break on your way to school. We’ll sue them, too, for giving you so much homework, and teach em’ a lesson.” She says this most mornings, but, today, my backpack is really big, though- pretty much bulging, so she adds, “I don’t see how you don’t fall over! The thing weighs more than you do! Not to mention, the fact that you’re shorter than most everyone at your school, so you have a disadvantage!” I hate when she calls me short and skinny, but I don’t want to set her on another one of her mood swings, so I just laugh, and say, “Yeah- I dunno. I heard of this one kid that missed two weeks of school cause he, like, dislodged his neck after carrying his book bag. Went to my school, too.” I reply, in between bites of toast. My mother frowns, disapprovingly, “Daniel Nicole James, do not talk with your mouth full. It’s not ladylike.” She scolds. I roll my eyes dramatically. I hate it when she calls me by my full name. I stuff the last bite of toast into my mouth, washing it down with orange juice. I throw a protein shake into my bag for on the bus, and wave to my mom. “Love you,” I call out the door. “You too.” She calls back. As usual, before I continue to walk down the street, I look at my house, to my bedroom window, to see Bells waving frantically at me. She’s always afraid she’s going to miss me, and think I don’t love her, cause she didn’t wave. Once, she started knocking on the glass, to get my attention, and almost broke it. I smile, and wave back. She falls back onto the bed, and rolls onto her back, burrowing under the covers. I swear, the kid looks so much like me, with her tanned skin, small figure, and thin, straight blonde hair. We look like this, because my dad is Swedish, giving us the pale blonde hair, and my mom is from California, giving us the tanned skin. Both our parents are tall, though, so we don’t know where the whole short-thing came from, but I like being short. I don’t know why. I trudge up the vacant streets, and check my watch to make sure I’m not late. 7:45. The bus will be here any minute. I’m the only one at my bus-stop, (if you don’t count a shrimpy little 6th grader who wears glasses ten times the size of his face, and is about the same height as a seven-year old. His name’s Jeffery. He spends half his time at home, sick, with some sort of deadly disease, like, pneumonia. But I lose track- it changes every other week.) so I wait impatiently for the bus to come. Jeffery, as I’d hoped, is staying home again, today. The bus stop is in front of his house. I look just in time to see him in the window of his room, waving at me weakly, his nose red, and his bed covered with crumpled tissues. I tried to conjure up a sympathetic smile, and it must have looked convincing, because he goes back to studying his five-inch encyclopedia. Ugh. Wasting a perfectly good sick day studying. What I would do, is spend the entire day on my dad’s chair (which he rarely let’s anyone sit in, unless it’s a special occasion like a birthday.) and spend the whole day with my mom waiting on me hand and foot, (not to seem stuck up) watching my favorite reality shows and sitcoms. And, even, if all else fails, a nice soap opera. My thoughts are interrupted by the roar of my bus pulling up. It’s tires squeak against our rough asphalt.

Chapter 2: The Note

I fasten my backpack, and walk, heavily up the bus steps. Kelsey, one of my three best friends, as usual, is saving my seat. Loyal as a golden retriever. She smiles when I walk on, and plop down in our usual seat. “Hey. What’s up?” She asks, cheerfully. “Nothing but the usual. School. Soccer. Home.” I answer dully. She frowns. She hates it when I’m boring. I chuckle at her expression. “What now?” she complains. I just shake my head, still giggling. She rolls her eyes, teasingly, and changes the subject, “So. Have you kept up your part of the bargain?” She asks. Crap. I’d been hoping she’d forgotten about the deal we’d made over the weekend when her and Collin had slept over at my house. I was supposed to ask my longtime crush, Chris Daily to the holiday dance. Their end of the bargain is, if I get the date, I get to pick out their dresses. Good, or bad. I grimace. “Well, I was going to ask him today, at school.” I lie through my teeth. I was going to see if they would forget, and if they didn’t, then lie and say he said yes, then stood me up the night before the dance, and found someone else. But, part of me did want to ask him. I sigh, torn. “No you weren’t, Danny. I know you like the back of my own hand. What if you do it in a note, or something, to make it easier? You could just put it into his locker from the air slits.” she suggested. I consider this for a moment. It’s possible, I suppose. I shrug, “How would he respond? He doesn’t know my locker number, so he couldn’t return it with an answer.” I point out. She rolls her eyes, rather irritated, “Then you could tell him your locker number!” She snaps, getting annoyed. Well… I didn’t think of that. “Hey… that doesn’t sound that bad… ok. I’ll do it. I’ll write the note in first period during Algebra.” I decide, firmly, but deep down, I’m kind of nervous. She grins, and says approvingly, “That’s more like it. I’ll guard the halls, to make sure he doesn’t see you putting it in his locker- that would be awkward. Collin will try to find him, and she’ll distract him, so he won’t even come close to the lockers.” She assures me. I smile, feeling a little better, and nod. Kelsey, Collin, and I all had different homerooms, but after that, we were together all day, and had been since the 6th grade. I figured homeroom would be a safe time to write it, because that’s Mrs. Sping, and she’s old, blind as a bat, and sits at her desk almost all of class. By now, we’re at the school, and I’m beginning to panic. What if he says no?! It would be so humiliating! He has Spanish and Lab with me! Breathe! I remind myself, as thoughts flood my mind. I walk nervously to homeroom, where I pull out my giant 4 in. binder, a sharp #2 pencil, a new red pen, and a clean notebook. After my stuff is on my desk, and neat, I head out to my locker. I spin my combo, quickly, and pull open the lock. Quickly, I stuff my bag in, and shut the door back. I manage to catch a glimpse of Collin. She nods, and keeps walking. I sigh, relieved. Kelsey was able to catch her before she got to class, and tell her the plan. Quickly, I slip into class just as the tardy bell rings. Mrs. Sping shoots me a warning glance that means to stop dilly-dallying. I nod, quickly, until she looks away. Then can’t help rolling my eyes a little bit. Jordan, my friend who sits across from me, catches this, and smirks. “What?” I hiss, under my breath. He just chuckles, and shakes his head, going back to his worksheet that he’s so intent on. I shrug, and pull a worksheet off of the stool at the front of the room, which I’m guessing is out warm-up exercise. I take it, and quickly breeze through the problems. It’s mostly review- fractions, mainly. When I’m finished, I take out my book, Little Women, and continue reading from where I last stopped- page 709 out of 900 pages. The thing weighs about fifteen pounds- I weighed it last week. It’s an extraordinary book, though. I enjoy reading about Jo. Her antics fascinate me. I love the way she writes those wonderful plays, then her sister’s help her put them on. Amy is cute, and funny at some parts, but kind of snobby. She means well, though, I suppose. Meg is a true leader, sort, But slightly bossy. She plays by the rules, but a little but too much, if that makes sense. Beth is my absolute favorite. I love how they make her hands fly along the piano keys, but all at the same time, look graceful. I love her shy, elegant ways. And how she cares for those broken and “sick” dolls. My thoughts are interrupted by Mrs. Sping’s sharp, piercing voice. “Class, I suspect you are all finished with the worksheet I gave you?- Front and back.” She demanded. Oops. No wonder it took me so little time. I shrink back in my seat, as, just as I ad feared, started coming around to check them. I pull out my pencil, to see if I could get it all done before she got to my desk. I was on about 3/ 4 of the way done, when I jump, startled. Mrs. Sping was scolding Amanda, a girl 3 people down from me, for setting up her fractions wrong. I take advantage of this opportunity, figuring she would take a minute to show Amanda the correct way to set them up. I write down the rest of the answers in just enough time. She’s suspicious, though. “Danielle, I suspect you got them all done without any help from your neighbor, Jeffery, here?” she demands, in a voice so icy cold that a shiver runs down my spine. I nod, quickly, avoiding all eye contact. She puts a large red minus on my paper, probably for tardiness, or something, and walks briskly over to Jeffery’s seat. I sigh, not realizing that my breath had been held. Mrs. Sping drones on and on about some sort of method for cross dividing, but I’m not listening. I look last her at the whiteboard, which has faded marks on it, from our really cruddy eraser. I quickly get out my clean notebook, and begin writing the letter:

Christopher-

I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Holiday Dance with me. Oh- sorry. This is Danny James. You can return this note through my air slits at locker #9978. Don’t rush, though. I’m not in any hurry, so take as long as you need. Thanks.

Sincerely,

Danny James 

I wait, impatiently for the bell to ring, hoping that my letter is ok. Finally, the loud, obnoxious screech comes from the overhead, and I jump up, pick up my binder, and my book, and quickly rush off to Spanish… and Chris’s locker. (!!!) I spot Kelsey in the hall right in front of his locker. She nods. “Collin’s already got him giving her his football jersey number, because she’s ‘taking a survey’, about most common football jersey numbers.” She giggles. I grin, thankfully, towards her. She scans through the note, and nods approvingly. I fold up the note, kiss it for good luck, and slide it into the locker.

~Chapter 3: Christopher Daily

I sigh, relieved. Madame Mariana hurries us into the room. Confused, we sit in our seats, and wait for her to say something. Finally, she says, “Class, today we are going on a little surprise field trip!” she exclaims. The class erupts with applause. I grin. This is the exact sort of thing I need- an excuse to be able to think, and not have to listen to Madame Mariana chatter about how Spanish vocabulary will help us in life. “The Hispanic History Museum just opened about a mile away, and I’ve arranged for the principle to let us all go for the period.” She explained to us, excitedly. Collin, Kelsey and I exchange cheerful glances. This is perfect. We set our stuff down, and head out the door. I cuddle down in my hoodie. Although we are walking, which will decrease the chilliness in the air, It’s still cold. Collin, who’s strawberry blonde hair is down to her shoulders, and layered up, has tanned skin, like me, and no freckles, which is odd for red-heads. She’s not tall, but taller than me, of course. She’s very... not sporty, but not girly, either. She’s kind of tomboy, I guess. Today, she is wearing grey, fleece, sweatpants, converse, and a black Adidas hoodie. Kelsey, who’s light brown hair, which hits right at her hips, is naturally wavy, and layered. As usual, it looks flawless. She’s kind of the most outrageous one in our group- very spontaneous. Today she’s wearing light jeans that are tucked neatly in her tan Ugg boots, and a lime-green Nike hoodie. We giggle uncontrollably as we talk about Chris, “Do you think he’s gone to his locker yet?” I ask, nervously. “I very highly doubt it. We would have seen him on his way, and we didn’t.” she assured me. I feel a little better, but my stomach drops into my feet when I see Chris up at the front of the class, walking next to his best friends, Jake Bing, and Charlie McNeil. Kelsey looks away, blushing. Collin avoids the front of the line, too. I roll my eyes, teasingly. They’ve both had crushes on them forever- Kelsey liked Jake, and Collin liked Charlie. I always thought it would be cool if we all got our crushes for boyfriends, and went on triple dates. They’re all really hot, but not all of the girls in the school are after em’ like in the movies, and stuff. Chris has long (but not too long) blonde skater hair, but it doesn’t hang in his face and eyes like some guys who try to pull off this look. His tanned muscles ripple before my eyes. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, despite the freezing weather. His clear, blue eyes are the color of my Mexican water. I suppose Jake and Charlie are really good-looking, too. But I have eyes only for Chris. He’s sweet, and polite. Respectful, funny… charming. But kind of a rebel at the same time. Charlie has short, kind of shaggy brown hair. He, too, Is perfectly tanned, and is wearing shorts, and a t-shirt, but somehow not quite as radiant as my Christopher. Jake has long black shaggy hair. He’s Japanese, but has no accent, and was born in America, and so were his parents. He is wearing sweatpants, and a football jersey. Now, don’t get me wrong, Charlie and Jake are both really cute, but… Christopher is just… well, different. He’s not your typical high school hottie. He’s not a jerk, and he’s not snotty, with a head- cheerleader girlfriend. He’s never even had a girl friend; he’s sensitive, polite, funny, kind, and still, at the same time… a rebel. I know this will sound cheesy, but… he’s my prince charming. Anyways, I’m sure you’re getting bored with this, so I’ll move on. Finally, after about 20 minutes, we walk into town, and stop at a large, new-looking building. It’s made of red brick, and has a large sign on the front that says, ‘The Hispanic History Museum’. We walk up the several dozen steps, until we come to a large set of double doors. Collin and Kelsey and I stay close by, figuring it’ll be pretty crowded, considering it opened, just today. Madame Mariana pushes open the heavy, black double-doors, and we walk inside. We are so shocked, though, because it is completely empty! Well, of course, we’re all thrilled, because it means we don’t have to wait in a bunch of lines, and whisper to people only beside us the whole time. Madame Mariana quickly gets us all visitor passes, and we walk to a narrow hall that “begins the experience”, she announces. In the first glass case that we pass, is of some sort of wax figure of a famous Hispanic artist that we’d studied. It was rather interesting, the way they got every single detail on him, down to the stitches in his shoes, and a light scar on his left pinky knuckle. The rest of the day passes quickly. Soon, I’m surprised to find myself at my locker, unaware of the time- 2:00. Electives. Quickly, I open it, waiting for some sort of slip of paper, despite the fact that I told him not to hurry. Nothing falls out. I can’t help feeling a little disappointed. I grab my gym bag, and head to the locker rooms. Kelsey and Collin are already waiting for me, there. As soon as I come in, they start undressing. I sigh, and shake my head. “Nothing. But, I guess I shouldn’t be disappointed- I told him not to rush, so it could be days.” I grimace at the thought. I should have left him my number. “Don’t worry, Danny. He’s crazy if he doesn’t say yes!” Collin comforts me. I smile, sheepishly, but I don’t feel better. Quickly, I slip into my gym uniform, and walk out to the large court. Today’s our soccer unit, so I got lucky. I grab a ball from Coach Nah. He points to the obstacles around the gym. I’m guessing I have to dribble around all of them. I do this easily, then go sit on the bench, waiting silently as I listen to coach give somebody a lecture about using the inside of your foot to kick, instead of your toe. Finally, the bell rings. I jog to the locker rooms, change, and run to catch my bus.

~Chapter 4: Bell

I sit in our usual seat, and save a place beside me for Kelsey. Collin rides a different bus, but her house is still walking distance. Kelsey just barely makes the bus, and plops down next to me. She knows I’m kind of down, so she doesn’t try to make conversation. I smile, gratefully. When I get to my stop, I tell her she and Collin can spend the night at my house. I won’t be able to sleep, and it would distract me. She says she’ll ask her mom. I nod, and walk home. Bell won’t be home for a while, because it’s only 3:30, and her school lets out at 3:50, so she’s usually home around 4:00. I walk in, and drop my bag on the kitchen tile. I go into the pantry, and pull out a bag of chips, and some cookies. I pour myself some milk, and have a quick snack. When I’m done, I head to my room, because it’s Friday, and my teachers were in good moods, so I didn’t get any homework. I plop down on my bed, and pull out my ipod. It’s not on my bedside table, though, so I search the room. I’m startled, to find movement in Bell’s bed. She sticks a sleepy head out of her covers, and gives me a weak, helpless smile. My heart turns into mush at the site of her. “Hey Bells, sweetie, what are you doing home?” I coo, as I come over and sit on her bed. Before she can answer, my mom walks in, and explains, “She woke up with a temperature, and was too tired to do much else.” She motions for me to come into the kitchen with her. I nod, and walk with her, sensing that something is wrong. A worried look comes onto her face. “She’s been so tired, lately. And I found a bunch of bruises on her legs. Big ugly things the size of quarters! She said she didn’t know where they came from. Danny, I’m beginning to worry about her. I made an appointment for the doctor’s office in about thirty minutes. Will you get her up and dressed?” She asked. She sounded exhausted. I nod, and go back into my room where Bell lay weakly. “Come on, you sleepy head. Mom’s taking you to the doctor, and I have to get you up and dressed.” I reply, cheerfully, hoping to make it seem like nothing’s wrong. It seems to be convincing, because she sighs, and sits up, wearily. I pull out her jeans, and a hot pink thermal shirt. I pull the sweater over her head, and help her into the tights. It’s as if all of the energy was drained out of her. I get out her black converse, and her parka and hat. She’s shivering, despite the heat that’s blazing in our room. My mom must have had someone come and fix it. I pick her up, and hustle her into the back seat of the car. Quickly, I buckle her into the seat, and she falls asleep as soon as the engine starts. My mom is making tea, and I insisted that she stay here at the house. I have my learner’s permit, so I’m aloud to drive at any daylight hour. I drive the familiar road down to our pediatrician. I shake Bell gently. Her eyes flutter, but she’s still asleep. I sigh, unbuckle her, and carry her inside the cheerful waiting room. I sign in, and after a couple of minutes, a plump, rosy nurse calls us in. I wake Bells, and hold her hand as she toddles unsteadily along beside me to the small room where the nurse leads us. Her scrubs are violet with care bears on it, which is currently the newest fad for kindergarteners. Bells points to a yellow one on the nurse’s breast, which I know is her favorite one. I nod, and smile, flashing an apologetic smile to the embarrassed nurse. She takes Bells blood pressure, weight, height, and makes small talk with her about school. Bells always hated doctor’s offices. I don’t know why- they’re usually such cheerful places, But I’ve never asked. “The doctor will be with you in a moment.” Jill said, (Which I learned from the bright yellow badge on her scrub) Bell waited on the uncomfortable patient’s bed. She’s getting antsy, and as she fidgets, the loud paper on the mattress crinkles, making her even more impatient. I look up from my magazine, giving her an annoyed look. “Bella, Doctor Riggun will be in any minute, now. Here, why don’t you color?” I suggest, passing her a coloring book from the magazine rack, and some crayons which are sitting on the counter. She takes it, and begins coloring a picture of a princess. I sigh, finally, quiet. I realize, then, that we’re in a doctor’s office, and Bell is already sick enough. I look around the room, until finally, I spot a sanitizer machine. “Bell, come here, and get some sanitizer.” I reply. I stick my hand under the machine, and it automatically squirts out the perfect amount. It’s foam, so I know Bell will enjoy playing with it. Something to distract her. I figure. By the time Bella’s clean and I’m reading my magazine again, I remember I told Kelsey and Collin that they could sleep over at my house tonight. I pull out my cell, and quickly text them a quick message:

Guys- im at the doctors office with bell. Change of plans. She’s sick, and y’all can’t come over. I don’t want it to spread. We can hang tomorrow for sure. Love you!

I hit send, and wait for a reply. Finally, my phone vibrates, and when I flip it up, it’s one from Kelsey and one from Collin:

Hey Danny- tell bells I hope she feels better, ok? Ill call u tomorrow. Byebye! Love from collin

Danny- tell bells to feel better or else! (jk) hope she feels better. Call u tomorrow. Peace! Love from kels

I smile, as I read through the texts. Quickly, I slip my phone inside my jeans pocket, and not 2 seconds later doctor Riggun steps in the door. I forgot how pretty she was! Her long, silky black hair comes down to her waist, and her tall, slim figure is curvy beyond my imagination. Her pale skin glows, even off of the dim lighting in the small room. She flashes us a smile, showing her perfect, straight teeth that are even whiter than her skin. “Hi, Danny. Bella. What brought you guys here, today?” She asked, as she pulled on some latex gloves, and got out her stethoscope, and several other tools that I couldn’t identify. “Bella stayed out of school, today. She wasn’t feeling too good, and… well, I didn’t even know she stayed home, because I left before she was awake. I don’t know what was wrong.” I admit. Dr. Riggun turns her attention to Bells, “Bella, can you tell me what hurts, honey?” she asked tenderly. Bella nodded, “I feel really tired. My tummy feels really bad, and I threw up a couple of times. I feel kind of achy, and I hurt everywhere. There are bruises on my legs that I don’t know where they came from. Mommy doesn’t either.” She said, quietly. Dr. Riggun nodded, and asked her a couple of other questions, “When you threw up, did your belly feel any better?” she asked. Bella shook her head. “Ok, when did you throw up? Was it a lot?” she asked her, cocking her head curiously. Bella nodded, “Yes. It was a lot. I did it over the toilet.” She informed her, kind of proudly. “Ok, can you show me your bruises?” Bella nods, and pulls down her jeans, to display several large, angry bruises. She feels around them and Bella whimpers when she touches tender spots. “When did you find these?” she asks. Bella shrugs, “I didn’t notice them until this week.” She explains. Her face flushes, going a light shade of green. “Do you feel like you’re going to throw up, now?” she asked, eyeing her, as she turned pale. Bella nodded, and Dr. Riggun pointed to the trash can in the corner. Bella hopped down, quickly, and sat down next to her. I would have been with her, too, but I didn’t want to get in her way. Dr. Riggun held her hair out of her face while she threw up. She held her hand, and patted her back, a little. When Bell was done, she handed her a cup of water, and let her rinse, then took a warm wash cloth, and cleaned up her face, which had vomit on it. She sat down with Bell, and asked if she could speak with me privately. Bella nodded, and Dr. Riggun sent her out of the room to a nurse’s station right outside the door to get some peppermint gum and a sticker for being a big girl. When the door was shut, Dr. Riggun washed her hands, and sat down in the chair next to me. “Danny. I’d like to draw out a sample of Bella’s blood to send to our lab. No need to panic, just to make sure it’s nothing serious. The reason I’m advising this, is because there was blood in Bella’s vomit, and it worried me.” She said, calmly, but I could hear the fear in her voice. My heart skipped a beat, but I nodded. She smiled, gratefully, and went outside to get Bella. She walked in, with a Barbie sticker on her arm, chomping loudly on peppermint gum. I smile, sheepishly, hoping she couldn’t see the panic in my eyes. Dr. Riggun took action, “Ok, Bella. Are you going to be a brave girl, for me?” she asked, as she looked around in the lab for a needle. Clueless, Bella nodded. “Well, we’re going to take a little sample of your blood, to send to some doctors in a big important lab, where they’re going to test it, and make sure you’re nice and healthy.” She replied. Bella’s eyes widened, knowing what she was in for. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t be scared. I do this all the time; don’t worry your pretty little head. It won’t hurt a bit,” she says, soothingly. Bella nodded, but she was still freaked out. Finally, Dr. Riggun comes up with a syringe. She peels the wrapper off of it, and takes out a cotton ball, and some alcohol. She rolls up Bella’s sleeve, and rubs her shoulder with the disinfecting cotton ball. I move next to Bella, who is near tears, by now, and hold her hand. She squeezes it, and I squeeze back. “Bells, I’ve had blood drawn, before. It’s not that big a deal. I’ll bet they’ll give you a really pretty band aid when you’re done.” I assure her, soothingly. She relaxes a little. Dr. Riggun considers something for a moment, “Hey… what if Danny had a little bit of blood drawn before you, so that you could see it doesn’t hurt a bit?” she suggests. I nod, brightly. “Yeah! It won’t hurt me, even though I don’t need it.” I reply. Bella nods, brightening a little at this idea. She cleans my shoulder as well, and I grab Bella’s hand, to make it look like I’m scared, too. She injects the needle, and I smile the whole time, though it does hurt a little bit. Bella nods, and gets up in the chair for her turn. “Didn’t hurt a bit.” I assure her. She turns her head away from the needle, and squeezes my hand. She whimpers a little when the needle goes in. But when it comes out, she sighs, relieved. She grins, proudly. “Good job, Bella!” I congratulate her, as Dr. Riggun puts a pretty, hot pink bandage on her arm, wrapping it around, tightly. “Now, your arm might be sore for the rest of the day, but not for long. Now you stay in the bed for the next few days, until I call you back with the lab results. Until then, let your family spoil you.” She replied. Bella nodded. I take her hand, and lead her out of the building. I lift her up into the car, buckle her in, and drive home. About five minutes after the engine starts, I can hear the soft hum of her breathing. I pull up to our house, and lift Bella out of the car, easily. She’s small, and, despite her age, only weighs about 50 pounds. I lock the car, let myself in the house, and put her back into the bed. Mom’s waiting at the kitchen table, eating a giant root beer float. She was worried- when she goes for ice cream and caffeine, she was worried big time. “Mom, you’re going to make yourself even fatter than you are now- if that’s even possible.” I tease, grinning. “So how’d it go? Is she Ok?” she demanded. I nod, “They took a blood sample just in case, to send to the lab.” Her eyes widen, “Just as a precaution. She threw up at the doctors office, and Dr. Riggun said she found a little bit of blood in the vomit. She was just going to make sure everything was circulating normally.” I reply, soothingly. She nods, but is still kind of hyperventilating. “Mom, you go lie down and take a nap. I’ll go into our room and watch Bella while you’re asleep. I’ll wake you up if anything happens. I promise.” I reply, as I take her by the arm and push her gently onto our soft couch. I cover her with a warm fuzzy blanket, and turn on the news, so she can watch it when she wakes up, and before she goes to sleep. “Don’t worry about her. I’ll keep her company, and make sure nothing goes wrong.” I assure her, as she closes her eyes, and nods. I head back to our room, and look at the time. 7:49. Dad will be home any minute. Bell’s asleep in the bed, as I figured she would be. I shake her, tenderly. Her eyes flutter open. “Mmmm?” she murmurs, sleepily. “It’s ok. I’m just going to take your temperature. I assure her. She nods, and opens her mouth, weakly. I stick the thermometer under her tongue, holding it, so she won’t have to sit up. When it beeps, I look at the temperature. 103.2. A pretty high fever. I tuck her back into bed, turn off the light, and go put the thermometer under hot water. After I’m finished rinsing it, I go back into my room to read. I turn on my lamp, careful so not to wake Bella. I found myself growing tired after a while. Mom was still asleep, and so was Bell. Dad was in the kitchen doing some work on his laptop. I lay my book on my bedside table, kick off my shoes, and feel myself gently slip into unconsciousness.

~Chapter 5: Cosco

“Danny……Danny…!” I wake from the sound of Bell’s scratchy voice. She’s yelling as hard as she can, but it’s barely a whisper. I sit up, jerking my head around the room, until finally, I find Bella’s limp body hanging over the trashcan I put for her last night. “Oh, Bella! I’m coming, sweetheart! Oh, hang on!” I assure her as I hop up, and scurry across the room to her side. Mom couldn’t do it, because she’s already doing her best trying not to barf all the time with morning sickness and all. I hold her hand, and pull her hair out of her face. As soon as I’m sure she’s done, I leave her to go get a cool washcloth and water. First I get her water. I hand the cup to her, and prop up her pillows so she can sit up to drink. Then, as soon as she’s gotten some water inside her, I go for a washcloth. I put it in the coldest water I can find, and then take it into our bedroom. Her face is clean, so I rub the cool cloth on her cheeks and forehead. When she’s cooler, I put it on the pillow, right behind her neck. “Thank you.” She whispers so quietly, I can barely hear her. I put a finger up to my lips, and sing softly in her ear. Finally, when she falls back asleep, I go fix myself a breakfast of Special K Strawberries, a tall glass of orange juice with ice, and my favorite magazine. I look at the time on our stove. 8:09 am… Mom’s not up yet, and won’t be for a while. She likes to sleep in late on Saturday Mornings. Usually she gets up about 10:00 or so. Dad just gets up when he wakes up, which makes perfect sense to me, personally. Once I’ve eaten all of my breakfast, and read a few articles in my magazine, I head into my room, and throw on a clean t-shirt and sweats. I slip quietly into my parents room, go into my mom’s purse, grab out $50, and head back in the kitchen. My mom often lets me do this when she doesn’t feel like going to the store. I take out a sheet of notebook paper, and scribble a quick note:

Mom- took $50 from your purse to get some medicine and food for Bella. Be back in about 45 minutes. I have my cell. Ring if you need me. Love you. 

Back soon. Danny. Xoxoxo

I knew mom hated it when I left without her knowing it, but Bella really needed some medicine, and it could be hours before mom was up! I grab my dark green YMCA hoodie, pull on my converse, and head out the door. The moment my shoes hit the concrete pavement of my driveway, it starts pouring down rain. “Ok, really?!” I moan. I yank my hood over my head, and run, quickly unlocking my dad’s old red Chevy truck. I climb into the warm cab, and shiver. I crank the engine, and it roars to life. I quickly warm up with the heat turned on. It’s about a 7 minute drive to our Cosco. I know the way well. When I was little, mom and I used to drive there every Wednesday, for our weekly groceries. Now, I’m forced to make the trip alone, since mom’s tired all the time and Dad’s usually at work. Bella has little interest in convenient stores, like Cosco or CVS Pharmacy. She much prefers malls or department stores. I think because they’re so much bigger, and there’s more to explore. She loves to explore. Malls and Department stores are what she does if there aren’t any woods, or lakes, or rivers nearby. That’s what intrigues her- Nature. She could spend hours in a tree, with her sketch pad. She’s a pretty amazing artist for an eight-year-old- better than I am, now. My thoughts are interrupted by an angry horn, honking at me. Oops. The light’s green. I step on the gas, and quickly pull into the large Cosco parking lot. Despite the fact that it’s in a large shopping center, the lot is nearly empty. I find a nice parking space, right by the entrance, pull my hood over my head, and make a mad dash for the entrance. I quickly lock the car behind me, as I step into the Cosco. It’s dead silent besides the sound of a few vacant shopping carts rolling along the rough, linoleum floors, and cheesy Christmas music playing from the loudspeaker. I grab a cart, and roll over to the pharmacy section. I walk up to the counter, where an old lady in a white pharmacist jacket and a big name tag stands. Her name is Beth. She’s nice and plump. Her rosy cheeks twinkle, and she smiles kindly at me. “Hello, my name is Beth. What can I do for you on this fine day?” She asks, cheerfully. I explain Bella’s symptoms, and she recommends a few things: Children’s Benadryl for her fever, Pepto Bismol for her stomach, and some sort of ice pop that has vitamins in it, since she won’t feel like eating anything. I thank her, quickly, pick up the two medicines, and head over to the frozen dept. where I quickly find the “Vitapops”. They’re fruit- flavored, so they don’t taste gross, and will give her the vitamins and nutrience she needs from food. Finally, for a treat, I head over to the school supplies dept., and pick up some charcoal pencils, a 68 pack of crayons, and a new sketch pad, to cheer up Bella. I head over to the checkout counter, to pay. I do the self- checkout, and grab some mint gum, too, for when she gets sick. My total is $47.99. I feel kind of guilty because I spent all that money, but it was all for Bell, so I was sure my mother wouldn’t mind. I grab the plastic bag that has my purchases in it, and head out to the truck. It’s not raining anymore, but it’s still wet, and foggy. I hate driving in fog. Makes me nervous. I pull out my cell phone as soon as I’m in the cab of the truck, and check to see what time it is. 9:45. I’m sure somebody’s up by now, and has gotten my message. And if they haven’t, then I’ll get home and give Bells her medicines and surprises, and explain to mom that I used her money when she wakes up. I check my messages- 2 texts from Collin and Kelsey, and one call from Jordan. But that was all yesterday. I open the texts quickly, before starting the car:

Hey Danny- hows bell doin’? send her my luv and call me back. Luv u 2. collin:)

Sup Danny? Is bells feelin’ any better? Tell her 2 get better, and call me back. Luv u 2. Kelsey:)

Quickly, I type in a response:

Guys- bella’s not doing too good. The doc sent in some blood samples to the lab to make sure everythings ok. Ill call u back when we get the results in. luv u 2. Danny:)

I wonder if I shouldn’t have told them- I don’t want them to spend their whole weekend worrying about Bella, (and I know they will, because they love her like their own little sister) but I know it wouldn’t have been right to tell them that she was feeling better, because she’s not. Quickly, I crank the engine, and roll out of the parking lot back home. The fog was beginning to clear up, but the roads were slick with wet leaves, which was hazardous in busy Maine. Traffic was slow this morning, which was rather surprising, because Maine’s population was so large. I pull into our driveway 5 minutes later, and check the time. 10:00. quickly, I pick up my bag of groceries, climb down, reluctantly from the warm cab of the truck, and return home. When I walk home, it’s quiet at first. Then I walk further and see mom sitting on the couch with her pastry and coffee, reading the paper. She looks up at me, and smiles. “Hey, Danny. Did you find anything at Cosco?” She asks me, going back to her paper. I nod, but because she’s not looking at me, I say “Yeah. I got some Pepto Bismol for her stomach, some Children’s Benadryl, something called Vitapops, that is supposed to give her the nutrience and vitamins that she needs from food, but probably isn’t getting from her loss of appetite, and some gum, for when she throws up.” I reply, purposefully leaving out the charcoal pencils, crayons, and sketchpad because I’m kind of afraid she’ll scold me for spending unnecessary money. She smiles, and says, “Well, good. Will you go give her the medicine, and one of those ice pops? I want to finish reading this article.” She replied, and went back to the paper without waiting for a response. I sigh, and go back into our room. Bella’s lying on our bed, sleeping. I shake her little shoulder, tenderly. She smiles, weakly. “Hey there, kiddo! You feeling any better?” I ask, as her smile fades at the sight of the medicine. “Is that… medicine?” she gulps. I laugh, and nod, “You act like it’s going to kill you, Bells! This is good for you. It’ll make you feel better.” I assure her. Her eyebrows rise, doubtfully. “How about if you somehow choke down this medicine,” I pause to give her a sarcastic look. “Then I give you this brand new sketch pad, charcoal pencil pack, and set of 68 crayons?” Her eyebrows bulge. “You bought all that stuff for me?!” she demands. I laugh, and nod. “Well… I guess I’ll take it.” She grumbles, opening her mouth as a peace offering. I smile, and open up the bottles of medicine. I pour her some water to wash it down with, and set it on the table beside her. I figure I’ll do the Pepto Bismol first. I pour out the thick pink liquid about halfway to the top in the small plastic measuring cup. She gulps it down reluctantly, drinks some water, and beckons for the next one, eager for her art supplies. I pour the brownish liquid in about halfway, too. She holds her nose, gulps it down, and drinks the water. “Good job,” I reply, as I hand her the sketchpad, and charcoal pencils. I set the 68 pack of crayons on the table. “Thank you, Danny…” she replied. I start to walk out the door. “No! Danny… will you stay with me? I still don’t know if I’m going to need you or not...” She whimpered. I nod, and sit down on my bed, as she draws on her sketchpad. She draws for a few minutes. Mid- stroke, her charcoal pencil stops. “I feel really bad. I… have to lie down.” She murmured. Her sketchpad and pencil falls out of her hand. She collapses back down. I pick up her things, set them on the table, and sit beside her, stroking her hair tenderly. “You can sleep, baby. I’ll be here as long as you ask me to.” I coo, as she closes her eyes. A single teardrop runs down her sweet little face. I reach down to wipe it away. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” I ask gently, as she opens her eyes back up. “It hurts so much.” She whimpers. “What does?” I demand, starting to panic, “Everything.” She whispers silently, and drifts off to sleep. I lay my head on her fragile little body. I don’t know how late it is, now, but I begin to cry, and cry. It’s late when I stop, and I feel myself approaching unconsciousness. I run to it like a big hug, and it cradles me to sleep.

~Chapter 6: Phone Call

I am vaguely aware that I’m dreaming. Everything is in black and white… now I realize where I am: the children’s hospital downtown. I walk down a long, narrow hallway. I stop at a room. In big graffiti letters similar to the ones I draw, it says ‘Bella’s Room’ I push open the door. Wigs of all styles and colors sit along the walls. Only then do I think to look who’s occupying the bed. And there lies Bella. Her bald head looks almost alien like on her tiny body. Her arms are thin, meatless- just bones. Her breathing is rough, and she’s attached to a bunch of IV’s where odd-looking liquids seep into her body. Teddy bears surround her. Her arms and chest are covered with large, angry purple bruises, and her face is so thin she looks like a skeleton. Instead of the normal bed she has at home, she’s in a hospital bed, with metal bars on the sides of them, I guess so she doesn’t roll off, but it looks like a jail. The color of her walls are just as bland as the ones in the hallway. It’s a pale yellow, and the bed sheets are grey, and look very uncomfortable. On her bedside table are several of her favorite things: A picture frame of all of us- even my dog Molly. We were out in the backyard on the porch swing. Bella was laughing when we took the picture. Her head is thrown back, like mom’s does, and she’s smiling, her mouth open wide. Her long, pale blonde hair is flinging around every which way. Dad’s got his arm around mom, who is three months pregnant at the time, (It’s a recent picture) and I’m behind Bell, laughing along with her, but I don’t look as radiantly beautiful in the picture as she does, despite her age. Another thing on her bedside table is Paco, her fish that she won at the county fair last year. He’s gotten big, considering he was the size of a nut. There’s a monitor that shows her heart beat. It’s really abnormal, and all of a sudden, the line goes flat. “Nooooooooo!” I try to scream for help, I make no sound. I’m screaming when I wake up. My mom is shaking me, tenderly, “Danny, Danny! It’s just a dream, baby! Just a dream!” she coos softly in my ear when I wake up, sobbing in her arms. I look over to see Bella, fast asleep in her covers. This calms me, but I immediately ask my mother if anyone called. At that moment, the phone rings. “I’ll get it.” She assured me. I walk over to sit next to Bella. Her soft, steady breathing calms me like a baby’s lullaby. I can hear my mother murmuring quietly into the phone. My heart skips a beat when I am able to make out some of the conversation: “Yes, Dr. Riggun. We’ll be over in 45 minutes…. Uhuh……. Thank you very much… uhuh. Bye-bye.” She clicked the phone down. I pull Bella close to my chest. Mom walks in, with a worried look on her face, though she tries to put on a brave mask Bella’s and my sake, “That was Dr. Riggun. She said the lab results came in today, and she’d like us to come in as soon as we can…” She informed me. “As a family.” She finally finished quietly. I grimace. This can’t be good. But, for Bella’s sake, I try to act cheerful. “I’ll get her up and dressed.” I murmur quietly, to my mother. She nods, gratefully. Before I wake up Bella, I put on some jeans, socks, a clean bra, a light yellow long-sleeved t-shirt, and a blue and green striped zip- up jacket. I slip into my tan Uggs, tuck in my jeans, and walk over to Bella’s bed. I shake her, tenderly, until her eyes flutter open. “Hey Bells. Dr. Riggun just called with the lab results and said she wants us to come in. It’s time to get up.” I say, trying to smile, but little Bella knows me better than that- she saw right through me. “It’s bad. Isn’t it.” It’s not a question. “I don’t know, yet, sweetheart. But, I promise it’s going to be alright.” I answer, quietly. She nods, and I help her up. I pull out a pair of jeans for her, some clean underwear, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and her parka. I put these on her, and hustle her out the door. We wait for mom and dad in the van, because all of us are going. “The whole family?” she whispered. My lips a tight line, I nod. “But you’ve got to be a brave little girl, ok? Will you do that for mommy and daddy?” I ask, she nods, and looks out the window. Her usually twinkling eyes, are vacant, and cloudy today. Mom and dad finally come out to the car. None of us talk, the way there. We know if we try, we’ll start to cry, and we don’t want Bella to be any more scared than she already is. We pull into the now unwelcome looking brick building that is our doctor’s office. I let Bella ride piggy back on me. She holds on tight to my shoulders, and I squeeze her little legs right next to my hips. Her fragile little body is as breakable as a toothpick. She lies limply on my back. The only movement detectable is the thumping of her heartbeat on my back, and her little chest rising and falling. We walk into the waiting room, but obviously, this is unnecessary, because Dr. Riggun is already waiting for us in the lobby.

~Chapter 7: Not The Flu

I watch my parents exchange nervous glances. I hold Bell’s hand tightly. Without a word, Dr. Riggun led us to a large, oval room that was equipped with a wooden coffee table, a small bar with a coffee machine and doughnuts, and several large, comfy- looking chairs. I hoist Bella into my lap, as I sit down in one of the chairs tenderly, so not to hurt Bells. When all the grownups are seated, Dr. Riggun sighs, wearily. “We got Isabella’s test results back last night at about 9:00… they’re not good. Mr. and Mrs. James, I suggest you brace yourselves.” She murmured quietly. “Your daughter has a disease… I will not lie to you, it can be deathly, and many sufferers do not live.” She paused for a moment, as we choked down this information. I grimace, pulling Bella closer to my chest. “It is called Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia…it is a type of cancer.” She said slowly, but definitely. My mother turned to cry quietly on my father’s shoulder. Bella made no sound, but my T-shirt soon had a small wet spot on the shoulder, and I knew she was crying, obviously terrified. Her small chest moved up and down, quickly, as she made little hiccups.

~Chapter #8: Preparing for Takeoff

Nothing about our home seemed welcoming anymore. Nothing seemed to embrace us with the lavender scent of my mom’s favorite air freshener, the warm air that hugs you when you walk into the house, not even the vague smell of cookies, since my mom’s always baking, since she took time off of her job before the baby comes. Nothing seems to comfort me as I walk into the familiar door of our house. My father, who is carrying Bella, walks into our room and sets her down gingerly on her bed, and props her up on the nest of quilts. “Well, Bells, anything in particular you want to pack for the hospital?” His voice catches on the last word, but Bella tries to look like she doesn’t notice. “Um, well. My teddy bear I guess…and my sketch pad and charcoal pencils and colored pencils, and my markers, and- oh, heck, just bring the whole art kit.” She finally replied with a shrug, as she motions with a nod of her head over to her dresser where her wooden box labeled ART SET is carved in calligraphy. Dad picked it up, and set it on her bed, as he began to pull out some of Bella’s clothes. I go over to our closet, and pull out a large suitcase, the one I used when I went on a class trip to Washington for two weeks. I set it on her bed, and start to carefully fold and pack the clothes that my dad is putting on the bed. Once everything is packed, (which includes: 3 pairs of jeans, several sweatpants, a few pairs of shorts, 4 oversized T-shirts, 5 pairs of pajamas, her fluffy bathrobe, her slippers, her teddy bear, her art set, at least 20 paperback books, her iPod shuffle, her Game boy, and her toiletries), I lift the heavy suitcase up, and haul it out the back door, around the house, and into the trunk of the car, so we’ll be ready in the morning. My mother went straight to her room, no doubt sobbing her eyeballs out, and my father was curled up in my sister’s bed with her, as she slept, silent tears falling down his cheeks. There’s only one thing I can do now. I will go to the woods.

~Chapter #9: The Woods

I grab my backpack out from the closet, and fill it with two bottles of water, my cell phone, the first aid kit, and a 3 pop tarts. I grab my fleece parka and a scarf, lace up my snow-boots, and quickly get out a pen, and a piece of scrap paper, and scribble my parents a note:

Mom and Dad-

Went down to the woods. Had to get out of the house. Got my cell phone. Back soon.

~Danny XOXO

I sling my bag onto my back, and head out the door, into the frosty air. I walk down the vacant sidewalks, counting the cracks on the ground, and my boots crunch down on the newly fallen snow. The crisp, frosty air feels raw as it burns my lungs. I start to run, until finally, I can see the edge of the woods. I slow to a jog, until I finally reach the edge of the trees. I sigh, as I walk forward into the welcoming sight of the overgrown weeds and bushes, as they brush my legs, showering them in snow. When I finally reach the creek, I sigh. It’s frozen over, just as I’d feared. I carefully go down, beside the creek, so that I can touch the slick, hardened ice. I put some weight on it, and it doesn’t crack. I don’t know what makes me do this, but, without thinking, I heave myself onto the ice, my backpack still on the log I’d been standing on, and curl into the fetal position. Vaguely, I hear a loud snap- crack, and I know the ice is breaking. I quickly do a once-over in my head, deciding the water can’t be more than 2-feet deep. My brain is telling me to go, run! But my body won’t listen. So I just sit there, scared stiff, as the ice cracks under me. I wait, and wait for the ice to snap, but nothing happens. The cracking and bitter, icy waters snapping of the ice stops, and I think maybe it’s safe to get off without breaking it, so I raise my head, cautiously, and start to shift towards the bank. Suddenly, I feel myself being plunged into the icy water. I realize suddenly, that it’s deeper than 2 feet. My feet don’t touch the floor of the creek, and I’m in down to my chest, as my arms clutch the sides of the small ice hole that I fell through. My body is already completely numb, and I can feel my legs start to go limp. But I keep fighting. My cell phone vibrates, and I push up with my elbows, hoping to lift myself up, with no luck. I keep this up for a couple of moments, and, inch-by-inch, begin to rise out of the water. Once my hips are out of the water, I use my elbows to army-crawl up towards the bank, where I fumble with my cell phone, but I feel myself go light-headed, and my gloved hands feel useless with the small buttons. Finally, I just lay my head down on my backpack, and let myself fall into the darkness that surrounds me, like Alice falling into Wonderland.

~Chapter #10: Taking Heat For Granted

When I wake up, I’m vaguely aware of the soft cocoon of blankets, in which I’m nestled in, and the vacant tickle behind my ear, which I realize is a hand (probably my mother’s), stroking my hair. I open my eyes, still groggy from sleep, and make the mistake to try to shift my weight to my other side, and moan, as a sharp pain shoots through my back. “Oh god, she’s awake.” My mother murmured in shock. “Henry! Henry, come here, she’s awake!” she squealed into the kitchen, where my father was probably sketching, which tends to take his mind off things when he’s nervous. “What’s the date?” I mutter under my breath, careful not to send the sharp pain down my back again. “It’s March 14th.” She answered. Quickly, I do the math in my head; we took Bella to the doctor on the 10th, we came in as a family on the 11th, and she went to the hospital…..2 days ago. I grimace. I needed to be there for her. “Bella already went to the hospital.” I say quietly. My mom nodded sadly. I sigh, “But everything went very smoothly; she has a room-mate her age who she likes, we helped her get settled in, and she had her first round of chemo an hour after she arrived.” My mom assured me. I didn’t felt very reassured, though. “But you shouldn’t worry, darling.” She replied, sensing my hesitance. I nod, and another