Below are the 8 most recent journal entries recorded in chaotic_spider's LiveJournal:

Friday, August 25th, 2006
2:52 pm	in regards to the carp all that stuff I just posted was just because I needed a place to post stuff so I wouldn't lose it becaus somehow it just doens't work on email anymore. so just ignore it. not that nayone goes here anyway, but just to let yall know in case you did. i know it won't make sense (Comment on this)
2:51 pm	qsdf Crimson scowls. “That was totally retarded. I wrote about the superficial mindlessness of the generation above us, and how we have to be the ones to change it all, and take back all the damage that our parents have done to the world. It was supposed to be my opinion column. How can they try to expel me for that?” I laugh, and clap. “Thank you, Crimson.” I say, giving her the thumbs up. “I’d kill to read your article. Do you still have it?” She grins. “Yeah. You really want to read it?” I nod. “Absolutely! Then I can help you gat back at your school. But in the meantime, I get to ask you a question.” I have to think about it. I study her. She’s really remarkably pretty, but not the kind of pretty that makes a big deal out of itself, like Jazz. With Crimson, you don’t really notice how beautiful she is until you take another look. Her eyes move slightly, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. I ask, “Crimson, what are you most afraid of?” She raises her eyebrows, and shudders. It doesn’t take her half a second to say, “Being alone. I don’t think I ever told you guys, but when I was twelve, I got kidnapped and locked in a basement for a month, in the dark. After that, I’ve always been afraid to be alone, and I don’t mean that I get scared when nobody’s around. I mean that I have nightmares about being the last one on earth, or being stranded alone on an island, where there is absolutely nobody to talk to or see.” “Gees,” Jazz says, shuddering as well, “I don’t blame you! It’s really a terrifying thought!” Crimson nods. “I know.” “Holy crap,” says Nickel, “You were locked in a basement for a month? God, that’s scary! Who kidnapped you?” The redhead grimaces. “I never learned their names. They were never caught. I guess they thought they could get some money out of my rich old grandmother, but what they didn’t know is that my grandmother hasn’t spoken to our family my dad married my mom. Eventually they just let me go, when nobody would give them any money. I never saw their faces though.” “Yikes,” I say, “That’s terrible.” Crimson shrugs. JAZZ Crimson’s question for me is, “If you were any kind of mythical creature, what would you be?” The boys laugh, and I say, “A unicorn! Because not only are they pretty, but they have healing powers, and can save lives!” I love unicorns. Shady says, “Good, maybe then you could cure me.” Then he turns a bit red, and adds hastily, “I hate having asthma.” Nickel says, “Okay. I get to ask her a question now. Jazz… what was the best thing that ever happened to you?” I have to think about this one. There have been a lot of good things in my life. Finally I settle on something, “This summer, when I went to New York City for the summer dance program at Rantla. I know you guys aren’t dancers so don’t know how big of a deal it was, but lets just say that you have to be among the best to get in. It was the best thing ever.” “Cool!” says Crimson. Shady stares at me for a few seconds, as if trying to see into my head. Finally, he asks, “Who do you care about most in the world?” That question really stumps me. I think of my ‘friends’ at school, but none of them have really been there for me since the whole thing with Blue. My parents are never around, and when they are all they do is yell at me. I’m suddenly depressed. Who is there? Then I think of Raydene. Just a year ago, I’d have never gone near her, but now I spend most of my time hanging out with her. She’s probably the first real friend I’ve ever had. Also maybe these people in Punishment. So I say, “Raydene Wilcox.” Annalyn gasps. “That’s my cousin!” She stares at me. “You’re friends with her?” I feel like I’ve been slapped across the cheek. “She’s the best friend I’ve ever had.” Annalyn raises her eyebrows and looks me over in a completely new way. I guess she thought I was too shallow and judgmental to be friends with someone like Raydene. The sad thing is that less than a month ago I was. So then we ask Nickel questions. Annalyn asks, “How different is it to live here than in England?” He shrugs. “I dunno. People talk different, not just in the accents, but the words too. I’ve had to learn a whole new vocabulary so that people would understand what I’m talking about. There’s a bunch of stuff that’s different, but it’s hard to put your finger on exactly what it is. There are just certain things I see, and I think, “That would never have happened back home.” And also some things that would be acceptable back home are completely taboo here. It wasn’t a huge culture shock though. Mostly the differences I notice are the people. Because like, the people I spent my whole life with are suddenly in another country, and I’ve had to start completely over.” Shady nods thoughtfully. He fingers one of his lip rings, looking strangely sad. Annalyn says, “Yeah, I bet.” So I get the next question. I grin and ask, “What about you, Nickel? Do you have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend?” I add, laughing. Nickel grins. “Girlfriend. Didn’t I tell you guys about Helena? She lives back in London, and we’ve been dating since we were thirteen. Of course, I haven’t even seen her for a year, so it gets hard, but we’re pretty much as close as two people can get.” He gets a silly grin on his face, and a warmness in his eyes as he goes on to tell us some more about Helena. It couldn’t be more clear to me that he’s absolutely head over heels in love with her. So then Shady, who may or may not have tears in his eyes, asks, “If you had three wishes, what would they be?” Nickel twists his mouth in consideration. “Hmmm…” he contemplates. “Well the first one would be that Helena could live here. She hates it in England, with all her friends either dead or across the globe.” He thinks some more. “And my second wish would be that everyone in the world would be equal, and happy to be equal.” After a couple more seconds, he says, “My last wish would be for me to regain control over my life.” He doesn’t elaborate. Again Shady nods. “Good wishes,” he declares, leaning back into the couch and bringing up his stick-thin legs. All the muscular healthiness has disappeared from Shady. He is rail-thin and pale. Annalyn asks, “Shady, my question is why on earth have you lost so much weight lately?” Shady’s eyes glaze over, as if a million things are running through his head. He says “Well, you know, I’ve been sick. I lost a lot of weight when I was in the hospital and not eating or working out. And really, I haven’t worked out at all for the last few weeks. There’s no time.” He doesn’t look anyone in the eye. Annalyn raises her eyebrows, and I wonder. But he was really sick this week, and I suppose that not working out would let his muscle fade. I ask him the same question as I asked the other two, and this is what his answer is; “No, not right now, and I don’t want one. Back in Vancouver I had a couple girlfriends, but neither of them lasted more than a month, and weren’t really that special. I dunno. I guess love is just going to be one of those things that I’ll never get to experience.” “Don’t be silly,” I say, “You’re only sixteen years old! You’ll find someone. I think there is someone for everyone.” Shady turns slightly red, something I’ve never seen from him before. “Oh yeah,” he says, “I guess you’re right.” Nickel laughs. But then he gets serious and says, “I know that this is a very personal question Shady, but I’d really like to know. Of course, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Anyway, my question is, how do you keep going? I mean, when I had to leave my home, and two of my best friends died, I didn’t think I could get through it, and it’s still really hard for me. But you’ve been through hell, and yet you keep going. God Shady, I mean, your parents were murdered by the people who gave you life. You lost everything, and yet you seem to have moved on, and as you said the other day, you love life. How do you do it?” Shady seems to sag even lower in the couch. His eyebrows go down and he bites his lip. He says, “You don’t even know. For a long time, I seriously considered ending my own life. I miss my parents more than anyone will ever know. But I keep going, because this is the only life I’ve got, and I don’t want to waste it. My parents wouldn’t want me too. I found things to distract me. I started working out every day, and getting so deep into my music (which I was already pretty deep into), that sometimes I’d go entire days without putting down my guitar. I started writing songs, I started the band, and I just… I made myself make something of my life. But it’s not easy, you know. Sometimes I’m incredibly glad that…” he trails off. After staring off into space for a few seconds, he says, in a slightly angry voice (or maybe that’s just raw emotion) “It’s not like I’m really a strong person. I get in trouble a lot because I get really, really angry. Angry that all the teachers and even other students have it so easy, and they don’t even notice. But I’m not… well it’s just that I decided, not that long ago, that I’d leave the past behind where it belongs, until I’ve made some happy memories to counteract the bad.” He shrugs. “I don’t know if that made any sense, but whatever.” NICKEL I can’t get over the shit that Shady’s gone through. I never imagined that there was so much going on in Shady’s head, until last night at the concert. You can tell by the way he throws himself into the music, and by how clever his lyrics are, that he’s more than just another poser ‘punk’. With Shady, it’s all for real. It kind of gives me a wakeup call. Before tonight, I thought I was pretty good at figuring people out. And I’d figured that Shady was an angry and irresponsible punk wannabe who had probably had a really easy life, and had nothing really to be angry about. Yeah, I hadn’t really liked him. But all of a sudden, I’m realizing just how little I really do know, and I’m incredibly ashamed. Shady actually is a very insightful guy, who has been through a lot, and has a the perfect right to be a little bit angry. And he isn’t a wannabe or a poser either. The punk thing is just really who Shady is. So now I’m wondering how well I really know Crimson and Jazz. Because before today I’d thought Jazz was an airhead, a stereotypical cheerleader, probably the type to bitch about people behind their backs. I’d thought she’d be the most popular girl in her school. But now I’m not so sure. And I’d sort of labeled Crimson as a dreamer. She seems idealistic and naïve, sort of self-contained and protective. But really, what could I possibly know? I suddenly realize that I’m superficial crap. On Friday the meeting is at Jazz’s house. Or castle rather. I mean, I obviously knew she was rich, based on the fact that she goes to Carnnaya, but I didn’t expect this. You know that house on the corner by the lake? The one that little kids look at and want to go meet the princess? The one that preteen girls dream of living in? The one that middle age women shake their heads in dismay at, thinking what kind of a foolish show-off would live in such a house? The house that men dream of being rich enough to buy for their wives? The house that’s three times bigger than the next biggest house in town, and everyone in town dreams of seeing inside of? That’s Jazz’s house. I stand in front of it, checking the slip of paper in my hand incredulously to be sure I have the right address. The house is big enough to be a boarding school. I smoke a cigarette, and look up at the intricately carved double doors, posing impressively at the end of a long, wide, smooth brick driveway, at the top of a rounded stone staircase. There isn’t a spot of snow on the driveway, and the snow beside it is clean and untouched, sparkling in the sunlight. The hedges are perfectly pruned and green, even though it’s November, and they already have an incredible display of Christmas lights and Santas. Looking up I figure that there must be at least five stories, judging by the expensive looking windows. I hear footsteps on the sidewalk behind me, and turn to see Crimson, staring up at the house in amazement. “Incredible. All this time we were in the presence of royalty, and we didn’t even know it.” Laughing, I say, “No kidding. I’m scared to go up to the door. Do you think they’ll have a butler?” Crimson grins at me, as Mark’s car pulls up in front of the house. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Mark joins us, staring up the mansion, and laughs at us. “Too scared to go near it?” he asks. I nod and stamp out my cigarette. Crimson shrugs, and says “We were just wondering how many servants they have.” Shaking his head, Mark starts down the brick driveway, motioning for us to follow. I see Shady coming up the street, and say, “Let’s wait for him, and we can all go in together.” I laugh, pretending to be terrified. Shady is probably the most awed by the house. “Holy fuck!” he says, “I want to move in with her!” Then he actually blushes, and says, “Not like… well you know what I mean.” Crimson and I laugh hysterically, and Mark just shakes his head. We head up the driveway, can climb the extravagant stairs. Mark rings the doorbell, and we can hear it echoing through the house. Then the door opens, and Jazz appears. “Hi guys,” she says, and invites us into the house. The smell of expensive perfumes and other rich smells hit us, making Shady sneeze. None of us say anything, but look around the room in awe. It’s just like in a movie, with such extravagant furnishings and decorations. She laughs nervously, and says, “Welcome to my home.” She rolls her eyes. “I know it’s completely ridiculously huge. Don’t hold that against me, please.” Raising his eyebrows, Shady says, “That could prove difficult.” He laughs. I can’t help but laugh as well, and say, “Give us a tour!” She shrugs, and says, “Alrighty then.” So we wander through the mansion, gasping in awe at every room, while Jazz seems to become increasingly more bored and annoyed. There are two kitchens, and three dining rooms, each one more profligate than the last. We see dozens of sitting rooms and living rooms, two incredible home theatres, and about fifty bedrooms. (Maybe that’s exaggerating a little.) They have not one but two swimming pools, an outdoor and an indoor, and they even have their own bowling lane. They have a their own gym, bigger than the one at my school. Jazz doesn’t just have a bedroom like most people. She shows us into her wing of the house, complete with her own kitchenette, bathroom, rec. room, hot tub, dance studio, and a bedroom so overstated that I burn with envy. Shady gets very quiet after the first few rooms. After the tour, when we’re all sitting in a living room on couches, he asks, “Do you realize how incredibly lucky you are?” Jazz nods and rolls her eyes. “I know, I know. I’ve been told thousands of times.” She sighs. “But do you really think I want all of this? I don’t know if you noticed, but there is nobody else in this house. It’s a complete waste. My parents are always gone being doctors, and sometimes I don’t see them for weeks at a time. Even if they are in the same house, I rarely see them. I’m at school all day, and at dance or cheerleading or this group thingy for most of the other time. We have housekeepers that come in twice a week, but other than that, this house sits empty most of the time. You have no idea how much I’d rather just have a normal sized house like you guys. It’s not fun to be alone in a house this big, even if I do have everything material I could possibly want.” Shady laughs bitterly. “It’s really ironic, isn’t it?” Crimson nods. “Oh yeah.” She grins. “Can we go bowling?” Jazz giggles. “If you want.” “Yes!” I squeal, “I love bowling!” Mark holds up his hand. “Hold on guys, we can go bowling after we talk for a while. Remember you guys are supposed to being punished, right?” “Oh yeah,” I say. I laugh again. “I’d sort of forgotten.” Mark smiles. “Good. So, I’ve got a topic that I think will be appropriate. Goals. Who do you want to be when you grow up?” I groan. “Oh please, anything but this.” Shady says, “Maybe I don’t plan on growing up.” Jazz says, “Alright then, Peter Pan. But jeez. I hate this question. I mean, I know what I want to do, but what I want to do and what I’m capable of doing is two different things entirely.” “Same here,” agrees Crimson. “No kidding,” Shady says fervently. “Well,” Mark says, “I’ll change the question then. What do you dream of being when you grow up? What would be your dream life?” Shady says, “Rock star.” He doesn’t even blink or smile, just says it matter of factly, his hollow and thin face blank. We all laugh, and I say, “No problem. I think you’re already there.” Shaking his head, Shady says, “It’s not going to happen.” “You’re kidding me!” cries Crimson, “You’ll be world-famous by the time you’re seventeen.” Shady shrugs. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jazz shakes her head. “Uh, yeah, Shady, we do. You are an incredible musician.” “Oh really?” Shady says, “And what do you know about music?” “More than you might think! I made it grade six piano before I had to give it up for dance.” Shady looks impressed. “Grade six? That’s pretty good.” Jazz shrugs. “Sure. But Shady, you go to a school for musical prodigies. How many instruments did you say you played? I’ve heard your band. You can make it.” Shady shrugs again. “What about you-all? What’re you gunna be?” “I want to be a professional dancer,” Jazz says, “but not many people can make a good living off of that. And I’m not good enough.” “You never know,” argues Shady. Crimson says, “Same for me. I want to be a writer, but I’d have to do something else too, because you can’t just be a writer. It doesn’t pay very well unless you’re J.K. Rowling.” “You could be a journalist,” suggests Jazz. Crimson makes a face. “No way. I don’t want to do that. Well… what about you, Nickel?” I groan. “I have no freaking clue. With my brains, I could do pretty much anything I want to. People expect me to become a lawyer or a doctor, or a scientist or something but honestly, that doesn’t interest me at all. But when you’re the top student in a school for the academically gifted, people expect great things from you. I don’t want to be great. I just want to have fun.” “Nothing?” asks Shady, “You have absolutely no dreams? Not even the vaguest hint of what you want to do?” I tell him, “Yeah, I know what I want to do. I want to be with Helena. I want to have a family I love, and I want to be happy. I don’t want a stuffy job somewhere that won’t allow me any spare time to have some fun. Brains aren’t exactly a blessing, you know.” Shady snorts. “You can do just that then. Nobody can stop you from doing what you want with your life. You only live once, so don’t waste it, okay? But gees, brains would be nice though. School is hell for me. I’m as dumb as a sack of bricks. I haven’t gotten higher than a sixty-two percent in my life.” He frowns. “I actually don’t think I’ve passed anything at all since September.” CRIMSON Nickel says, “That sucks. But at least then people don’t expect you to be perfect.” “No.” Shady says forcefully. “They don’t. Instead, they expect me to be a failure. It doesn’t matter that I get top marks in all the music classes, that I’m the best musician in the school. I’ll still be a failure, because it takes me half an hour to figure out what a paragraph of print means, and nobody can figure out what anything I write says, because I’m dyslexic, and can’t for the life of me write a single word that makes sense.” Nickel frowns. “I’ll help you with your schoolwork if you want me to.” Shady shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” “It doesn’t matter anymore? What’s that supposed to mean?” Nickel looks a bit angry. Turning a bit red, Shady says, “Just that I don’t care anymore whether or not I graduate. You wouldn’t understand. School isn’t something that I can do. Nothing makes any sense whatsoever. My brain wasn’t built for that sort of thing. I’m practically illiterate, no matter how many thousand dollars my parents spent trying to help me. I can’t handle sitting in class where everyone gets it but me. I get angry, and I get in trouble. I’m always in trouble. I’ll stay in school as long as I can, but I’m not going to be overly upset if I flunk out, or get expelled.” Shaking his head, Nickel says, “We obviously live in completely different worlds.” Jazz says, “ Yeah. I think we all do.” I nod. “Definitely.” Mark says, “Let’s go bowling.” Jazz grins. “Okay. I honestly don’t think that lane’s been used more than twice. Such a waste.” So she shows us back down to the bowling alley. It’s just one lane, but it’s all automatic, so all we have to do is throw the balls. Jazz throws three gutter balls in a row to start off the game. We all cheer and clap, and she shrugs sheepishly. “Bowling isn’t my sport,” she says, as Nickel bowls a strike. While Shady is bowling, Nickel asks me, “Hey, did you get that article for me to read? I was serious, you know.” “Oh yeah! It’s in my pocket!” I unfold it, and give it to Nickel. As he reads it, his eyebrows slowly go up, and when he’s finished, he says earnestly, “This is really good. They had absolutely no right to punish you for that.” Jazz puts on some music, and we all start jumping around and dancing in between our turns at bowling. Nickel says to me, “Are you still writing for the paper?” “No,” I scowl, “They kicked me off the staff.” Nickel grins devilishly. “Okay. So let’s get back at them. I’ll help you. You can print your own individual newspaper, and get your message out. Do you want to?” Laughing, I say, “Of course. I’ve thought about doing it a lot, because I have so much I want to write and get out there. But I can’t afford to get in any more trouble.” Nickel says, “I’ll bet you anything that there aren’t any rules saying that you can’t do this. I’ll help you fight if we have to. It’s called freedom of speech, Crimson, and nobody can take it away from you. If they try, I have ways to help you win.” I’m a bit excited at the idea. “Alright,” I agree. “Let’s do it.” “Good,” Nickel grins, “We’ll put this in the first issue. I have free access to a photocopier at my mom’s work. She won’t notice.” We talk about it and plan for a few more minutes, but we’re soon distracted by bowling, dancing, and laughing with the others. Jazz brings us pop and chips, and it turns into a real party. Our bowling scores are all pathetically low, but we don’t really care. Nickel and I get particularly hyper and wild, being completely random and loud. I haven’t had this much fun since I was thirteen, and my friends and I didn’t care what anyone thought of us. Jazz doesn’t get quite as into it, and I think she’s a bit overwhelmed at our craziness. Nickel laughs. “This is exactly what I used to be like all the time. Just be glad I only happens once an a while now. Usually just when I’m drunk.” Shady gets into it, but not in the same way as us. He’s not the type to jump around and spin randomly, but he does sing along with every song, and smiles more than I’ve ever seen him smile before. He looks pretty tired though. I don’t think he’s quite gotten over being sick last week yet. He certainly looks pale, and has big circles around his eyes. After a while, we Nickel and I calm down a bit, and we all end up just sitting around, singing loudly, and then just talking about random things like food and snow. Mark tell us, “It’s almost an hour past time for you guys to leave, you know.” “That’s okay,” says Nickel, “We want to stay here.” Shady agrees with him, and so do I. Jazz nods. Mark says, “Okay, but I’m leaving, so I’ll see you guys on Monday, okay?” But then it’s quiet for a couple seconds. The fact that we actually want to stay later than we have to is sort of scary, but nice. I’m actually making friends with these people. Good friends too. Shady coughs, and says, “It’s Friday the thirteenth, did you guys realize that?” He laughs, sounding wheezy like he had the day he landed in the hospital. I don’t mention it though. He shoves a bunch of chips into his mouth. I’m relieved to see how much he’s eaten tonight (he’s barely stopped eating since Jazz brought out food), because he’s lost so much weight since I first met him that I was beginning to think he was anorexic. Nickel laughs. “Are you guys superstitious? I’m not. Today has been a pretty good day.” “Yeah,” agrees Jazz, “It has been.” “Uhuh,” I agree, “We had basketball tryouts after school, and I’m pretty sure I made the team.” Shady smiles. “That’s great. I love basketball, don’t you guys?” Nickel shrugs. “I’ve always been terrible at sports. I do fencing though.” He laughs. Jazz says, “I do cheerleading and dance, but I don’t have enough time for anything else. Crimson, I take it you’re a pretty good basketball player?” I say, “Not bad.” I’m probably in the top ten players at our school, but I’m not amazing. “What about you Shady, are you on your school’s basketball team then?” He shrugs. “I was. Tryouts were three weeks ago at our school, and I made starter. Me and Mike Gatwick were about the only two guys in the school who are any good at it. I don’t mean to brag or anything, but for a while, a year ago, people said that if I didn’t make it as a musician, I’d do well as a basketball player.” Sitting beside him, I can hear the whistling of his breathing, and hope he’s not getting sick again. “So you’re good?” asks Jazz. Shady says, “Yeah, I was good.” “So why aren’t you on the anymore?” asks Nickel, who had picked up on the fact that he wasn’t playing this year. I’d picked it up too, but didn’t want to mention it. He says, “I got kicked off the team. My grades aren’t high enough, I talk back too much, and they said that I’m too talented of a musician to waste time on sports. Apparently, I need the extra time to practice. That was the day after I got a ‘Superior’ rating and won Best In Show at the violin festival.” He doesn’t look to upset about it though. “Wow,” Jazz says, “That really sucks.” Shady shrugs. “I don’t really care. It gives me more time to work on the album.” We’re all quiet for a second, and we can all hear Shady’s labored breathing. “You getting a bit wheezy there Shady?” asks Nickel in his smooth British accent. Shady wrinkles his nose and coughs, making a face. “Yeah, my asthma’s acting up again.” He feels his pockets, “I must have lost my inhaler somewhere.” Jazz winces. “Oh dear. Are you gunna be okay?” He shrugs. “I dunno yet.” He coughs hard. “Asthma sucks.” Nickel says, “I bet.” I feel sorry for him. Because he seems like a really strong person, and doesn’t deserve to have something like that to bring him down. He coughs again, and I notice that every time he coughs, it sounds even more whistling and painful. He’s fast on his way to a full blown asthma attack. Jazz asks again, “Are you going to be okay?” And Shady frowns, leaning forward and taking deep breaths. “Crap!” he mutters, and feels his pockets again. “None of you have seen my inhaler… have you?” He coughs, now visibly struggling for breath, “I was… sure I had it… when I came over…” “No,” I say, at the same time as Nickel. Jazz shakes her head. I wonder if we should do something, like call for help, but Shady doesn’t seem to worried. He takes another handful of barbeque chips, and eats them. Then he coughs some more, and makes a face. He says, “I should probably head home, so I can find my inhaler before this gets any worse.” But then he starts coughing again, and this time he can’t seem to stop, until it sounds like he’s going to die, taking in shallow, wheezing gasps so rapidly and desperately it hurts my lungs. Jazz says, “Shit! Don’t worry, I’ll go call an ambulance.” She starts towards the door. “No!” gasps Shady, “Don’t worry… just give me a couple minutes… I’ll be fine…” SHADY I try to take in deep breaths and relax, like the doctors tell me to do, but I can feel my lungs getting tighter by the second. This isn’t like last time, when I’d been wheezing all day, and then it had just gotten to be too much when I’d had the allergic reaction. This time it came so quickly, and if I’d had my inhaler, I could have stopped it, but somehow I must have forgotten it. Sometimes I’m so stupid I think it’s a good thing I’m gunna die soon. But it scares me that I don’t know what triggered this. I guess that the leukemia must be making my asthma worse. I’ll have to talk to my doctor about it. Jazz waits a few more minutes, before standing up and saying, “I’m sorry, but my parents are doctors, and they’d kill me if they knew I was just letting you suffocate.” But before she can get to the door, it opens, and a woman walks in. She is pretty and blonde, and I know her. She’s Dr. Murray, the oncologist that has been put on my case. “Hi sweetheart,” she says, her gaze immediately finding Jazz, “I thought you said your friends would be gone by seven?” Jazz says, “Yeah, well they wanted to stay.” Her voice quavers. I think she’s a bit afraid of her mother, or unsure of what to do. I try my very hardest to breathe normally, so she won’t have to call for help, and turn away so that her mother won’t notice that it’s me. But my heart leaps when I Jazz’s mother says, “I found this on the drive. Does one of your friends have asthma? They must have dropped it.” She talks as if we’re not even in the room. But I hear Jazz say, very gratefully, “Yes!” And the next thing I know, she’s by my side, holding my inhaler. I take it gratefully, and bring it to my mouth. I inhale and hold the medicine in my lungs for a good five seconds, before I exhale, and take another puff. My lungs open up immediately, and I take in several long breaths, before I whisper, “Thank you!” I straiten up and cough a couple times, just to make sure. After one more puff from the inhaler, I feel as close to normal as it’s possible to feel when you’re dying of leukemia, and just got over an asthma attack. I’m surprised to find Jazz’s mother standing over me. I expect her to yell at me for not taking care of myself, or to tell the others that she knows me, and how. But she just does what any doctor would do for an asthma patient, and tells me to take a deep breath and exhale, then sing a verse of Mary had a little lamb in one breath. “That’s good sweetheart.” she says, after I’ve passed all the tests. I’m so surprised to be called ‘sweetheart’, that I’m dazed for a couple seconds. “Yeah. Thanks for finding my inhaler. I’m going to go home now.” She asks, “Where do you live?” I don’t want to tell her. I live in the poorest, meanest area of town, where they live in the richest, most respectable. I just say, “Across town.” She frowns, and says, “Do you have a car?” I almost laugh out loud. I can barely afford enough food to survive, how could I possibly afford a car? I just say, “No, I’m walking.” She smiles almost in relief, and says, “No honey, I’ll drive you home. It’s not good for you to get too much cold air and exercise right after an asthma attack.” I know better than to argue with her. I say, “Alright. Well, sorry for being a party pooper, guys. I’ll see you on Monday.” “Yeah, bye Shady,” says Crimson, “Take care of yourself.” Dr. Murray leads me through the halls of their mansion, and shows me into the passenger seat of her incredible sports car. I always feel awkward in vehicles, because I walk almost everywhere I go. But I do up my seatbelt, and hope to god she won’t mention anything about my illness. No such luck. After I rattle off Jordan’s address (he’s the drummer in my band, my best friend, and lives a few blocks from my apartment), she asks, “Has your asthma been bad lately?” “Yeah,” I agree, not wanting to look her in the eye. She nods. “I thought that might happen. As the cancer invades your body, the areas that are the weakest already will weaken even more fastest. You’re taking all your meds?” I nod. She nods. “It’ll probably keep on getting worse. I can up your prescriptions, but I think you’re going to just have to put up with attacks more and more often. Make sure you always have your inhaler with you.” “Right,” I say. “But other than that, how’ve you been?” she asks. Shrugging, I say, “Not great. I get tired really easily, and ache all over by the end of the day. I keep having dizzy spells, and horrible headaches.” She nods. “That’s expected. It’ll just get worse from here, so I’d advise you to make the most of the time you have left that you’re still mobile.” “I know.” She says, “You’re really a scary case, you know that? Our hospital has never dealt with a case of 100% untreatable leukemia. Nobody’s ever heard of someone reacting so badly to so many drugs. You’re only hope would be a bone marrow transplant, but we can’t risk it unless the match is perfect, because your body is so reactive. If you only had a twin, you might have a chance.” My heart drops. If I only had a twin… If Chaos were still alive, I might still have a chance. “But gees, I shouldn’t be depressing you like this!” Dr. Murray frowns. “I’m sorry Shady. I must admit, I was surprised to see you at my house tonight!” “I didn’t know you were Jazz’s mother. You uh… won’t tell her, will you?” “Of course not. No, not if you don’t want me to. But you’re going to have to start telling people soon, you know that, right?” I say, “I’ve already told the people who mean the most to me. But I don’t want people to treat me the way they did when I was ten. I want to live normally for as long as I can.” “I understand,” she says, “Just- Shady… don’t… don’t get to close to Jazz, alright? Now isn’t the time for you to be making new friends. I don’t want to see her get hurt.” That’s what I’ve tried to tell Jazz and the others. “I know. Trust me, I know.” She drops me off at Jordan’s house, thinking it’s mine. I thank her, feeling a bit awkward, and go inside. I spend so much time at Jordan’s house, that nobody questions me when I show up unexpectedly. JAZZ I half expect my mother to yell at me when she gets home, but she just tells me that maybe Shady isn’t the best person to be making friends with. I expected her to say as much. Of course she wouldn’t like me hanging out with someone covered in tattoos and piercings. I wonder what she’d say if she knew I’d befriended Raydene. Or that I’d stopped hanging with Patricia and Kelly and all the rest. But I don’t see Mother or Father for the rest of the weekend, so they don’t nag me. I spend most of the weekend at the dance school. School on Monday sucks, so I’m looking forward to the Punishment meeting. I still find it ironic just how much I’ve come to enjoy the very thing that I dreaded so much only two weeks ago. I’m the first one to arrive at the office. Well, Mark is already there. He asks, “How did your little party go after I left?” I tell him about Shady’s asthma attack, and he says, “Poor guy. He’s really struggling, isn’t he?” “I think so,” I agree. “From what he’s said, I think his whole life is sort of a mess.” We don’t say any more, until Nickel comes into the room. He smells strongly of cigarette smoke, and he says, “Crimson’ll be up any second. I saw her get out of a car in the parking lot.” And sure enough, not ten seconds later, Crimson comes into the room. She has the obvious look of someone who has just been making out. Her hair is messed up, and she’s grinning like crazy. I ask, “So you and Zero are together this week?” She looks surprised, and giggles. “It’s not that obvious, is it? Yeah, he insisted on driving me here.” Nickel laughs. “God, Crimson, you’re lucky. Makes me really miss Helena.” I laugh too, a bit nervously. I think of Peter, but don’t give myself enough time to really form any thoughts about him before I ask, “Have you even seen her since you moved?” “Yeah,” Nickel says, “She came out here last summer for a month.” He looks like he really misses her. “Cool.” Mark says, “Okay guys, let’s get started.” Crimson points out, “Shady’s not here yet.” “Yeah,” Mark says, “That’s what we need to talk about. I got a call from his school today, telling me not to expect him anymore, because he’s dropped out of school. And he called about an hour ago to say he’s not feeling too hot, and is going to stay home tonight. He didn’t sound too good. So what do you guys say we go pay him a visit? At least see if he’s at home, and try to cheer him up, and convince him to go back to school?” So we get into Mark’s car, and Crimson says, “It’s his turn to have us at his house anyway.” I feel a bit guilty, even though I know it’s the right thing to do. But he did say that he didn’t want us at his house. I just can’t imagine why he’d drop out of school. I know he’s told us he struggles a lot in school, and I know he’s had a hard life, but I hadn’t though he was so screwed up that he’d quit school. Although, considering how amazing his band is, I’m sure his life will be fine without it. We talk about ways to surprise him, as Mark drives through town, checking the paper with Shady’s address frequently. We’re driving through a part of town I’ve never been in before. The houses are old and run down, mostly abandoned. “Okay, this is the street,” Mark says finally, “We’re looking for number 1839.” The street is the poorest looking street I’ve seen in my life. I didn’t even know this part of town existed. Crimson looks pretty scared too. She asks, “Are you sure we’re in the right place? Oh. Look, there’s 1829 right there.” She points to a terrible looking apartment building. My stomach drops. Mark stops the car, but none of us make any motion to get out. Mark looks from his paper to the number on the building several times, before he says, “Come on guys. I know we aren’t used to such poverty, but I think it’ll be best if we act like it’s no big deal.” Nickel nods. He says, “Right. This is no big deal.” We climb out of Mark’s car, and tentatively walk up to the apartment building. I notice that my entire house is several time bigger than the building, and feel incredibly guilty. We push open the door, and Crimson asks, “How do we know which apartment he’s in?” “His last name is Waring,” Mark says. Right in the front ‘lobby’ is a list of names and numbers. We find ‘M. Waring’ listed under apartment number 20, on the top floor. The hallways are narrow, and cluttered with everything from garbage to clothes. We find a creaky, creepy staircase, and start climbing. The windows in the landing are smashed in, and the walls are so graffiti’d that I can’t tell what colour they were originally. I have to admit that I’m terrified, especially after a very large man, reeking of alchohol, comes staggering down the stairs, swearing at us. I can’t believe that Shady lives in a place like this. It’s no wonder he didn’t want us to come to his place. I feel even more guilty. God, I’m lucky. All the doors have cards saying the names of their inhabitants, but most of them have been altered with nicknames or obscenities. The whole building reeks of cigarettes and even marijuana. I wonder how Shady, with his asthma, can stand to live here, when even I find it hard to breathe. We find number ten. The card on the door says, “Martin Waring”, and in an untidy scrawl under it, it says, “I think u mean SHADY” “Well, this is it,” Mark says. Even he looks a bit nervous. Nickel looks a bit pale, and Annalyn just looks scared. I don’t think any of us were expecting this. I’ve never been in such a building in my life. It’s no wonder Shady didn’t want us to come over. Mark knocks on the door loudly. I half expect a gruff but kind man, Shady’s uncle, to come to the door, but nothing happens. Mark knocks again, and calls, “Shady?” A couple more minutes pass, and Mark knocks one more time, saying, “I don’t think anyone’s here.” But then we hear the distinct but groggy voice of Shady, calling, “It’s open!” So, after a slight pause, as if to gain his composure, Mark turns the doorknob, and steps into the room. I follow him, and stare around the room. Shady’s apartment is tiny. There’s one room, about the size of a cheap single hotel room. There’s one of those funny half-fridges, and a microwave. The other furniture consists of an old, battered clothes dresser, a small table scattered with papers, an ancient armchair, and a single bed. There’s an electric keyboard set up against a wall, three guitars, and two amps. There’s a drum set, and several black instrument cases, all different shapes and sizes. He has a huge selection of CDs, and a small CD player. The walls are plastered with posters of punk bands, several of them signed. The room isn’t really messy, just crowded. In one corner there is a sink and a shower, and a toilet with a curtain hanging around it. Some bathroom. But the thing that surprises me is just how many bottles of pills there are lined up against the sink. They’re all prescription too. And I see two different inhalers, and several needles. It’s a bit scary. “Whoa! What the hell are you guys doing here?” Shady lies in the bed, looking extremely groggy, sick, and angry. Nickel says, “We’ve come to find out why you’ve given up on school.” Shady looks seriously ill. He grimaces a little, and says furiously, “Get out of here. It’s none of your business!” Crimson twitches a bit, like she might just do that, but we stand strong. “Come on, Shady,” I say, “I think we deserve an explanation.” He scowls bitterly. “Yeah Jazz, cuz I’m sure you’d understand,” he says sarcastically, looking pointedly around the room. “Fuck, you guys, just go away!” He turns in bed to face away from us, coughing raggedly. “Shady!” I’m more than a little upset. “Please don’t pull that shit with us! You’re the one who complains about people judging people, but here you are judging me! You don’t know that I wouldn’t understand!” Shady ignores me. Nickel tries. “Shady,” he says, a bit more gently, “If you’re ashamed of your apartment, don’t be. It doesn’t matter to us! We’re your friends, Shady, whether you like it or not. And we want to help you through whatever it is that has driven you to quitting school.” Shady turns sharply towards us again, and says, “I’m not ashamed. I don’t give a fuck what you guys think of my apartment. I’m sick. I need to sleep. So I’d appreciate it if you guys left, and let me do so!” “Shady, where is your uncle? I’d like to speak to him,” Mark says. Shady looks disgusted. “I don’t know where the fuck Martin is. He’s not exactly one for being home much. If I ever see him again, I’ll let you know, okay?” The room shows no sign of anyone else living there. Shady closes his eyes. We get the point, and don’t say anything more. So Shady’s pretty much completely on his own. It fits somehow. Shady always has seemed detached from everyone else, so it makes sense that he would be on his own. But it’s still scary. Nickel says, “I’m sorry that you’re not feeling good, Shady, but could you please just suck it up and talk to us? We care about you!” Shady laughs sourly. “Yeah. Well you’d better stop caring right now. I’m not looking for friends. And besides, I’ve told you, I’m sick. Why don’t you talk to your mother, Jazz? She’ll tell you all about me.” It takes a couple seconds for me to register that he’s talking to me. “My mother? What would my mother know about your life, and why you’ve dropped out of school?” Rolling his eyes, Shady asks, “What does your mother do for a living, Jazz? I already told you that I’m sick.” NICKEL Jazz’s face suddenly loses all it’s colour. She stares at Shady in absolute alarm. I’m confused, not quite putting the dots together. Then I remember something Jazz said a couple weeks ago; “Look, my mother is a pediatric oncologist. That’s the fancy word for a doctor who treats kids with cancer. She watches kids die every month.” “My god.” Jazz looks dizzy. “You can’t possibly mean what I think you mean?” Crimson looks like she might cry. Shady just scowls at us. “Yeah. That’s what I mean. Surely you’ve all heard of leukemia?” Jazz sits down on the floor. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Shady says, “I take that as a yes. Well that’s what I’ve got. And there’s nothing they can do about it. NOTHING!” His voice cracks, and I think he might cry. “They say I’ll be lucky to live to the new year. I don’t see the point of going to school, if that’s the case. But Crimson, it’s like you said, right? Cancer is a natural thing, and I deserve it.” He turns around to face the wall again. I’m shocked out of my mind. Shady’s dying. Dying. I want to ask him a million questions, but he’s already cranky enough. I say, “Damn, Shady, how long have you known this?” Without turning back to face us, Shady says, “Since I was in the fucking hospital. Last week.” So that night when we were talking about dying, he knew that he was. And when we were talking about our futures the other night, he knew he had none. Gees. I think about all the times I’ve contemplated suicide. Shady’s had a shit life. He’s been through hell and a half, and I thought that even before I knew about him being dirt poor, living on his own, and dying of cancer. But it couldn’t be plainer to me that he doesn’t want to die. It’s a terrible, terrible thing, and I can hardly bear to think about it. If anyone deserves to live, it’s Shady. He’s got more talent in his little finger than I’ve got in my entire body. He’s destined to be great. Jazz is crying. So is Crimson. And although he’s fighting it, Shady is too. Nobody says anything for a long time, until finally, Shady says, “You guys should leave. Forget about Shadow Waring. You don’t want to make friends with a dying boy. It’ll just hurt you.” We’re silent. I look to Jazz and Crimson, and we all speak at the same time. “We’ll stay.” Crimson, who’s been very quiet, says, “You can stop yourself from loving us, but you can’t stop us from loving you. Shady, we’re all here for you. Yeah, we’ll be hurt when you die, but it’ll be okay. You’re our friend, and we’re not going to abandon you when you’re all alone and dying.” Shady says, “I’m not all alone. I have friends.” “Yeah,” says Jazz. “You do. And we’re some of them.” Shady nods, looking blank. “It’s your choice. But you have to promise me that you’ll treat me the way you always have. Don’t let the fact that I’m dying make you be sickeningly nice and gentle to me. I’m still Shady.” I grin, somewhat shakily. “You’re on,” I say. “Now are you really not feeling good? Do you want us to leave and let you sleep, or what?” He slowly slides up into a sitting position. “I’ve been sleeping all day. It’s not going to make much difference if I get more. I still feel like crap.” He slithers out of the bed, revealing that he’s been sleeping in his jeans, and heads to the sink, where he downs several pills, unabashed. Then he sits back down on his bed, and says, half jokingly, “Have a seat…” He points to the ratty armchair, and the floor. I join Jazz and Crimson on the floor. Mark takes the armchair. Jazz asks tentatively, “So your uncle… you don’t see much of him?” Shady snorts. “He came to the hospital to pay for treatment, and made sure he didn’t get arrested for neglect, but he hasn’t set foot in this apartment for at least six months. But it’s okay, because he’s an asshole, and I like it without him much better.” Mark looks around, and asks, “But Shady, are you managing? I mean, I realize that you don’t want to go into foster care or anything, but what about money? I know all the drugs you must have to take aren’t cheap. And what about food? And rent? I know you’ve lost your job.” Shady says, “I’ve got it covered, don’t worry about me.” “Well, I do worry about you. Where are you getting your money? Did you- did you inherit anything?” Shady says, “No, I don’t get that till I’m eighteen. So in other words, never. But my uncle came paid for all the meds I need for now. And rent is covered for the next two months, I had enough from my savings account from working.” “Yeah…” Mark says, “And what about food? How much money do you have saved?” A bit red, Shady says, “Well nothing right now. But the band gets paid fifty buck every time we play at Merchants. I get seventeen bucks of that, and we usually play at least once a week. I manage.” Mark raises his eyebrows incredulously. “You’re living on seventeen dollars a week? What are you going to do when you’re… well when you’re too sick to perform?” Shady grins wickedly. “That’s the beauty of it, isn’t it though? I’m a dying orphan. I can starve to death, and it won’t make much difference, because I’m dying anyway. Before long, I’ll be holed up in a hospital, and Martin won’t have any choice but to pay for me, and if he won’t… well I mean, they’re hardly going to leave me to starve on the streets.” (Comment on this)
2:50 pm	df In James Potter’s seventh year at Hogwarts, security was at it’s very tightest, something which was apparent from the second James and Sirius boarded the Hogwarts Express on September 1st. Aurors escorted them to a compartment, and instructed them not to leave it unless they instructed them to. “Wow,” Sirius commented as they made themselves comfortable in the compartment, which was empty except for them. “They don’t seriously expect us to stay in here the entire train ride, do they? What’s the point of that?” James rolled his eyes. “I have no idea. Do you suppose I should have told him I’m Head Boy? Aren’t the prefects supposed to have a special compartment to themselves?” Sirius scowled at him. “No. You’re staying here, and that’s final.” James shrugged. He didn’t really care. “Alright. Only I wanted to see if I could find Lily…” Rolling his eyes, Sirius said, “Give it up! I’ve told you time and time again, that girl will never fall for you.” “Yeah,” James said, “I know. But it never hurts to try, does it?” Sirius laughed, and said, “Only in the mind of James does it not.” The black-haired boy shrugged. “Maybe. But gees, do we really have to stay in here the entire time? They can’t honestly expect Voldemort to attack a train brimming with future Death Eaters, can they?” Sirius shrugged. “I doubt that many parents would be willing to put their kids on this train if there wasn’t high security.” James made a face. “Gah. But that means we won’t be able to find Remus and Peter, if they’re assigning compartments. They must be here by now! The train’s supposed to leave in any second.” And just as he said that, the train lurched forwards. “See?” James pouted, “This sucks.” Sirius, always more cool and calm than the high-strung and intense James, just shrugged. “Come on, you don’t hate me that much do you?” James shrugged. “It’s just that I’ve never rode the Hogwarts express without them before. It’s weird.” Sirius mocked pity. “Aw, poor Jamsey poo… all alone with only Sirius to keep him company…” But just then the compartment door slid open, and a beautiful red-haired girl was forced into the compartment, protesting furiously with the Auror. “I’m Head Girl!” she said, “I need to find the Head Boy, and go over some stuff!” She glared at Sirius and James, “There’s no way I’m going to ride with those two.” James suddenly brightened considerably. “Come on, Lily,” he encouraged with a huge grin, “Come sit down and meet your new Head Boy.” The Auror pushed Lily’s luggage in behind her, and shoved the door shut with a pointed stare. Lily’s pet cat, Beatrice, yowled angrily at Sirius and James from the top of her trunk. “Oh come on, Evans!” Sirius protested angrily, “You know James is allergic to that thing!” “Not anymore,” said James hurriedly, looking hopefully at Lily. Her face cheered up. “Yeah!” she said, “You’re right, there’s no way I can stay here!” And she turned on her heel and slid the compartment door open again. Immediately, the same Auror was back. “I’m sorry miss, but this is the compartment you were assigned to. We can’t let you switch. I’m sorry.” “But he’s allergic to my cat!” Lily said expectantly, pointing to James. “No I’m not!” James protested, “She can stay here!” The Auror slammed the door shut, narrowly missing Lily’s nose. She stamped her feet angrily, and tried to slide it open again, but it wouldn’t move. She pounded on the glass, but the Auror ignored her. “Damn you!” she shrieked, turning warily away, towards James and Sirius. She chose a seat as far away from James as possible. James was disappointed, but tried not to show it. Lily said, “James, in answer to the question I know you’re about to ask, no I will not go out with you, and no, I will not at least go with you to the Three Broomsticks ‘as friends’.” Ouch. James ignored that comment, and said instead, “I hear you’re Head Girl! Good job!” His nose twitched and he sneezed, “Heh…heh-ishoo!” His head jerked forward, and he sneezed again. “Hehshoo!” Sirius rolled his eyes and glared at Lily, who said, “Yeah. I am.” James grinned, and said, “Great, so we’ll be working together this year!” He sniffled and rubbed his nose, casting a nervous glance toward Beatrice, who was purring contentedly in Lily’s lap. “What are you talking about?” asked Lily, glowering at James. Sirius laughed, enjoying the whole situation thoroughly. “He’s Head Boy.” Lily caught sight of the badge on James’ chest just as he leaned forward suddenly and sneezed rapidly, “Heh-choo! Choo! Eh…NN-cchhh!” James tried to stifle the sneezes, and muffled them into his robe, but Sirius and Lily weren’t fooled. Sirius rolled his eyes as James wiped the allergic tears out of his. “Yeah, James, you’re not allergic to cats at all,” he laughed. “It’s the dust!” protested James, not even trying to sound convincing. Lily protested, “Why on earth would they make you Head Boy? Are they crazy?” James frowned, and said, “I’m not as horrible as you think I am. Not anymore, at least… heh-xxxt!” He failed again at stifling his sneeze. Looking pained, Lily said, “Seriously James, who did you steal that badge from?” “You know, Lily,” started James angrily, “I’m starting to get really sick of you!” He sniffled, and added, “Does this look like the face of a guy who would steal a head boy badge?” He framed his face with his hands. Lily snorted in laughter. “Don’t even try that with me, James, you’re about as innocent as the stolen invisibility cloak in your trunk.” He sneezed rapidly into his sleeve, and ignored her. Sirius glared at Lily, and asked, “Can’t you do something with that stupid cat? I don’t want to sit here listening to him sneeze his head off for the next two hours!” She shot him an annoyed look, and retorted, ‘What do you want me to do, shove her out he window?” Sirius shrugged, and pushed it open. “Works for me.” He got up and slid the glass open. “At least get some air in here!” Beatrice hissed at the cold air that immediately filled the compartment. It was a furiously cold and windy day. Lily shivered. “We’re all going to freeze now,” she protested, “It’s practically snowing out!” James said, shivering as well, “Just close the window! You can put a freaking silencing charm on me if I annoy you so much. I’m not allergic to cats. I just got something up my nose.” Lily slammed the window shut. “James,” she said, “Don’t be a jerk. We all know you’re allergic to cats. It’s common knowledge at Hogwarts. But that aside, how the hell did you manage to get that badge?” He rubbed the badge somewhat proudly. “I earned it! Just because you don’t notice that I’m not the jerk I was in fifth year, doesn’t mean Dumbledore hasn’t! I had the highest marks of the school on final exams! Well, except for Charms. You had me on that… one… Heh-choo! Eh-chhooo! Ah…Ih…ehshoo!” His head bobbed and his face crumpled in frustration with another round of sneezes. Sirius said, “That’s our James, Lily, eh? Top student, Head Boy… I’m so proud.” He put his hand to his heart in mock reverence. “Shut up, Sirius,” James muttered, sniffling and wiping the allergic tears from his eyes. The Head Girl was still surveying James in skeptical horror. “You- Head Boy? Oh my god! This is like… a nightmare, isn’t it? You weren’t even a prefect!” James looked genuinely hurt, and Sirius grinned smoothly. “Yep. Welcome to the worst nightmare of your life, Lily. In other news, have you heard who they’ve got for DADA teacher this year?” Lily shook her head, while James muffled seven sneezes into his sleeve. Sirius said, “None other than my dear, dear cousin Sagitta Black. Now that’s what I call a nightmare.” Lily groaned. “Your cousin? That can’t be good. What’s she like?” Sirius winced. “Like a combination of Regulus, Bellatrix, and Narcissa, with a large bit of my mother added in just for fun. A nightmare.” James asked, in a very congested voice, “Why would they hire someone like that to teach Defense, when they’re so paranoid about Voldemort? Everyone knows that your whole family has basically the same mentality of the Death Eaters, but they’re too lazy to (Hih-ishoo!) actually join.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Good question. Maybe to keep a close eye on her and make sure she doesn’t go Death Eater? How the hell would I know? James, your shoe is untied.” He bent down to tie it. Beatrice hissed and zoomed unpredictably to attack his hand as they twisted around the laces. “Arg!” James straightened in surprise. “Lily, your cat’s a monster!” He bent over, sneezing violently. “Yeah, and you’re not allergic at all,” added Sirius sarcastically. Lily called Beatrice back to her side of the compartment, scolding her. Sirius said to James, “You know, I was seriously considering not coming back to school this year. I was gunna join the Order of the Phoenix, and hunt down Death Eaters instead. But then you made Head Boy… and I really didn’t want to miss out on the last year as Marauders.” Nodding somewhat sadly, James said, “I was considering the same thing.” Lily looked somewhat startled. “Are you guys kidding? You were seriously considering sacrificing your futures for a bit of very dangerous glory?” Sirius scowled at her. “It’s not about the glory, Lily. It’s about making sure we do have a future, by stopping Voldemort from taking over completely and terrorizing everyone.” He rolled his eyes as James started sneezing again. James sniffled, and added, “Going to school right now kind of does seem pointless.” Sounding somewhat shaken, Lily said, “It’s not that bad, is it? I mean, they’re not taking over that quickly, are they?” Sirius said, “Lily, you’re muggle born. You can’t possibly understand the terror in the wizarding community. All you’ve ever known of our world has been during Voldemort’s reign of terror. You don’t know what it was like before. Trust us when we say our entire planet is in serious danger.” James added, somewhat more brightly, “But at least we all know we’re safe at Hogwarts. Voldemort is terrified of Dumbledore.” He sneezed, wincing at the ache in his chest with each sneeze. Looking at James in something close to pity, Sirius said, “James is right. Maybe it’s best just to forget about the crap at least until we’re done NEWTs.” James shrugged. “Well, we can try. But… Ishooo! Heh-CCHHH! Ug. But somehow I don’t know if it’s going to be that… Choo! Easy.” Frowning nervously, Lily said quietly, “Wow. You guys… you’re… really serious about this, aren’t you?” Angrily, Sirius said, “No kidding we are, Evans! How could we possibly not be? Do you read the Daily Prophet? People are dying. And here we go, off to school. Can you really expect us not to want to do anything about it?” James, though his eyes were swollen and his nose was red, looked deadly serious. “We’re not stupid arrogant pricks, Evans. Not anymore.” He coughed weakly, revealing a bit of a wheeze in his chest. Sirius’s face flicked with concern, but he said, “This conversation is really depressing. Come on, this is the seventh year! We’re supposed to be on top of the world!” (Comment on this)
2:49 pm	adsfga My parents are dead. Worse, it’s my fault. They were murdered; mom shot in the head and dad shot in the chest. By my birth parents. Because I wouldn’t go and live with them. And I watched the whole thing; my mother’s head exploded when the bullet went in; I was splattered with her blood. I killed my parents! They were the best parents a person could ever ask for; hard working but fun-loving, and not afraid to tell you that they loved you. All my friends were jealous, and several of them took to moving into our house for weeks at a time, just to avoid their own parents. And mum and Dad didn’t even say a word, just accepted them as their own. And they’re dead. I will never talk to either of them again. EVER! It’s just not right. Happy memories shouldn’t hurt so much. They just shouldn’t. Everything reminds me of them, and remembering them makes me hurt bad. Makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry until there’s nothing left inside me. Makes me want to die. All I ever wanted out of life was to be a musician. I worked so hard my entire life, and got further than anyone else my age had ever gotten in musical ability. Music was my life. I won every festival I entered, including world-wide competitions in Japan, Brazil, and France. People paid big bucks to hear me play. I was well on my way to being the best in the world. Type Nickel Warring into a search engine, and you’d come up with a thousand articles about me. And now? I hadn’t preformed or had any sort of training in months. Everything I’d worked for my entire life was slowly disintegrating and disappearing. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to work for something your entire life, and then have to give it up with little hope of ever picking it up again? Nobody in Avonroy knew much about music, except maybe Mr. Shand. But even he admitted that I was way beyond him in skill and knowledge alike. Do you know how many times I’ve sat on my bed with a syringe loaded with twice as much insulin as it would take to kill me? All it would take was a couple dozen extra units, and I’d be fried. No bang bang, no jump… splat. Just a simple injection, and within an hour, I’d be dead. Who knows how long it’d take someone to come see why I wasn’t coming to school? And how many people would care if I died? Caiden might, but only because then people would blame him for not stopping me. Leah? Maybe for a couple days. The gang back home? They’d probably never even find out. A few years later, they’d wonder why I hadn’t bothered to keep in touch. Ever wonder what happens after you die? If you get to stick around in spirit, watching the living? Or go to heaven or hell to live in eternal consequence? I wondered whether I’d see mom and dad again. And Jordan. I hoped I would, let me tell you. I hoped I would. But even to have my spirit entirely stamped out, to be completely over, that wouldn’t be too bad either. That Sunday, after three hours of sitting my bed with the needle in my hand, I finally made up my mind. The needle was in my arm, and my thumb was on the plunger, ready to push, before I stopped, and pulled the needle out. I threw it in the bin, shaking, then ran to the toilet and proceeded to throw up for an hour. I lay in my bed, trembling, all night. I could get through this. I could get through this! But as my insomnia kicked up a notch and I lay there, crying, I wished I’d just pushed that plunger. Monday, I woke up with aching lungs and a sore throat from coughing in my sleep. Which scared me, because I’d never woken up with asthma before. I’d never felt like that before without knowing why. And I wheezed all through having a shower and getting dressed, which admittedly took longer than usual. I felt so crappy that I actually checked my peak flow, something I hadn’t done since I was twelve years old. It revealed to me that I was getting about a third of the oxygen I should have been getting. Which explained the headache. The good thing was that my blood sugar test revealed a nice, almost non-diabetic number, and only a minimal amount of insulin needed to be injected into my veins. Still, I shook as I did it. So I loaded up on antihistamines and took several long gulps from my inhaler, and pulled my bike down the stairs for another full day of school, with no skipped classes, no arguments with teachers, and no fun. But Leah was at school, sitting in her desk at the back of the room, not-so-subtly avoiding my gaze. She looked tired and depressed, but she was there! I was still coughing pretty constantly, but completely forgot about my headache as I made a beeline to my desk in front of her. “Leah!” I cried, “Where’ve you been? God I was so worried, you just…” I broke off, coughing hard, as she turned away from me and stared obstinately at the wall. Which made me mad. I looked around to make sure nobody else was listening to our conversation, then said, “Leah, don’t do this. Come on, where were you?” But she continued to ignore me, and I got madder. “Look Leah, I’m sorry, okay? I said you could stay with me in the end, didn’t I?” She turned to stare at the opposite wall, and I started coughing again. I took me almost a full minute to stop coughing, but Leah didn’t show even the slightest hint of concern. I gave her one last long look, hoping she’d at least look me in the eyes, but to no avail. I turned and folded my arms on my desk, then flopped my head down, my coughing making my head throb. All morning, Leah avoided me, and all morning, I pleaded and reasoned with her to talk to me. The closest thing I got to her even acknowledging I existed was an eye roll and her moving to a different table when I sat down beside her at noon. So I found a comfortable table in the back corner of the library, and spent my noon hour writing lyrics. And coughing painfully. Leah “Leah, come on, please just look at me? Okay whatever. Just listen. There are reasons that I didn’t want you staying with me. And they are reasons that I can’t tell you! But please, Leah, you can stay with me now, and find out for yourself! You have to talk to me. Tell me where you’ve been!” Nickel looked like crap. He had huge dark circles under his eyes, and a pinched look as if he had the world’s worst headache. His voice sounded hoarse and wheezy, and he hardly stopped coughing all morning. I wanted to tell him to go home and sleep, but was too stubborn to speak to him. I wasn’t even really mad at him by that point. I mean, I’d always known that Nickel had some serious demons; that much could be determined just by listening to his hollow, humorless laugh. Nickel was one of the most depressed people I’d ever met, even if he was good at disguising it. So maybe there was some stuff going on at his place that he didn’t want me to find out about. The fact that he was now willing to let me stay and find out what it was should have been a very good indicator that he was a true friend, and really wanted to help me. But I couldn’t talk to him. I didn’t want to have to tell him where I’d been. It was humiliating and painful, and talking about it was the last thing I wanted to do. So I ignored him completely. By the last class of the day, phys. ed., he was getting seriously pissed off. He said to me, “Leah, fine. You don’t want to talk to me? I don’t need your friendship.” And he turned away. But then he turned back with a pleading expression, and whispered, “Please Leah? Please forgive me? Please talk to me? Please?” Cough hack wheeze cough cough cough. I stared at him, giving him the honor of eye contact for the first time all day. His expression lightened immediately, and he stared back with pleading eyes. But then he jerked his head away to cough some more, and I walked away. I changed into my gym strip, and came back into the gym to hear Nickel finally fly off the handle at Shelby Collins. “Would you just fucking leave me alone? Okay, I don’t like you! Why the fuck can’t you get that through your bloody head?” His eyes were almost wild in frustration, and he turned away. Shelby looked stunned, and stared at him. “Nickel!” she gasped, “What…” And she ran out of the gym, crying. Nickel just rolled his eyes and started coughing again, looking like he’d give anything to be able to lie down somewhere and sleep. Justin, a semi-popular prep who hated my guts, came up beside him, and smacked him on the back as if they were old friends. “Dude,” he laughed, “You just totally blew off the second hottest girl in school!” Nickel glared at Justin as if he wanted to smack him. “She’s a fucking airhead.” Justin shrugged, and held up his hands in surrender, “Whatever man. Shit, you look like hell man. What are you on?” Nickel was about a centimeter away from smacking him across the head, when he stopped, and just walked away. Smart. He’d definitely get expelled for fighting in school. Mr. Boysen herded our whole class outside to play baseball. Honestly. We’d been doing nothing but baseball in gym for weeks. And it was cold out there. It was the end of November, and this was in Alberta Canada. Yeah, so there was no snow yet. But it was only about two degrees out there! And we were all in our gym strip shorts and t-shirts! “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I heard Nickel’s British accent above the moans of my class mates, “We’re seriously gunna play out here? What’s the matter with this guy?” “Hey Warring,” Boysen warned, “Suck it up, or you’ll find yourself doing something even more fun than this!” Boysen hated Nickel. Mainly because Nickel was a very good athlete, but refused to try out for any of the school teams, and (before he’d been put on probation), he’d skipped phys. ed. every chance he got. Plus, I think the fact that Nickel was not from Avonroy pisses Boysen off. He had this weird obsession with our lovely little town, and thought that anyone who was from here was solid gold. Nickel scowled, and coughed that desperate, asthmatic cough that had been plaguing him all day. I think it was getting worse for the cold air. I got put on the opposite team as Nickel, thank God, and my team was up to bat first. Craig was the first batter, and he hit the ball right at Nickel’s feet. Nickel picked up the ball, and pelted it to first base. It hit Craig square in the head, fast as a bullet. Craig yelped in pain. “Oh!” Nickel gasped, looking genuinely surprised and sorry. “I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” Boysen flipped out. “Nickel Warring!” he shrieked, “That was completely unnecessary! There’s no place for that kind of behavior in my class! Twenty laps around the football field!” Holy. Twenty laps? The most I’d ever had to do was five, and that was in plus fifteen weather. It was still hell. Nickel’s mouth dropped open, and I’d assume he completely forgot about his probation. “It was a an accident! I didn’t do it on purpose!” He made a disgusted face. “God, I said I was sorry!” Boysen raised his eyebrows and gave Nickel a long glare. “Do I need to send you to Mrs. Adair?” Nickel actually paled at that. “No. But Sir! Twenty laps?” Boysen nodded. “And if you walk any of that, it’ll be straight to the office. Go!” He gulped, and hesitated, as if daring himself to say something. “Sir… can I go get my i-” “NOW! Move it!” Nickel took off down the field. The rest of the class, who had been watching and listening quietly, all exchanged amused glances. And then went back to the baseball game. I watched Nickel carefully as he ran, very concerned. Running twenty laps in this weather would be hard for even the most healthy, fit person. For a person with asthma that was already acting up, it was downright dangerous. Everyone was shivering and complaining about the cold, but nonetheless, the baseball game was a decent one. And I didn’t really usually mind baseball that much, but that day, I hated it. Nickel was in good shape; even though I knew he could barely breathe, he kept an easy steady pace for the first four or five laps. Boysen was keeping as close an eye on him as I was, and he actually looked impressed. But I could see him coughing even as he ran, and when he passed the side of the field closest to the baseball field, I could see that his face was red and sweaty. “Kick it up a notch Warring!” barked Boysen, when Nickel started slowing down fast on the sixth lap. I could almost feel Nickel willing himself not to finger the teacher. He didn’t speed up, but slowed down even more, stumbling and gasping, really struggling now. He made it another two laps of a very forced jog, before he actually fell over. Luckily, Boysen didn’t see it, and he was up and moving again in a couple second, but even from across the field, I could see real pallor in his eyes. He was fading fast. Boysen noticed, and screamed, “Move it Warring! Come on, I know you got more than that in you! Run!” I finally couldn’t stand it anymore. I dropped my glove, and ran over to the teacher. “Mr. Boysen,” I said tightly, “Nickel-” “Leah,” Boysen warned, “Nickel is none of your concern. I’m trying to teach him a lesson. You stay out of it. Ha, he’s barely moving out there. What a little wimp. Maybe he should lay off the dope.” I sighed, exasperated. “He’s asthmatic! I don’t think he can even breathe!” And suddenly, Boysen’s face changed. He looked as pale as Nickel was when he’d been given twenty laps. “Whoa. You serious Leah? Nickel Warring is asthmatic?” He stared at Nickel, who was coming around the corner closest to us. I nodded. “Yes! Look at him! He’s going to pass out or something!” Boysen shouted, “Warring! Bring it in!” He motioned for Nickel to come talk to him. Nickel’s shoulders sagged, and he struggled to run over. He was panting and coughing as wheezing and basically looked like crap. “Sir… please don’t… send me to the office!” he gasped out, “I can finish!” But I don’t think he was even seeing straight, and it was hurting my lungs just to hear him try to breathe. Boysen held up his hand as Nickel turned to keep running. “Hey,” he said gently, putting a hand on Nickel’s shoulder to steady him. “It’s okay. Just try and breathe, okay? Where’s your inhaler?” Nickel, despite his state of near-collapse, managed to look surprised. He looked at me questioningly, knowing I must have told him, but I just turned away and walked back to my position. The rest of the class had kept on playing as if nothing was happening. But I didn’t go far enough away that I couldn’t still hear what they were saying. Nickel gasped, “In my gym locker…” Boysen said sternly, “Why the hell aren’t you carrying it? You trying to kill yourself?” Weakly, Nickel wheezed, “I forgot it in my jeans…” “You should have said something! Okay, let’s get you inside.” “I tried to ask you…” Nickel coughed, but trailed off, and staggered after Boysen into the building. Nickel Normally, I didn’t mind work that much. It was tedious sometimes to try and get those kids to understand music, but it was a connection to my old life, and I cherished it. But that night, I could barely get through it. All I could think about was Leah. I was sure she’d told Boysen that I was having an asthma attack, probably saved me from passing out and having to go to the hospital again. But then she still wouldn’t talk to me. She hadn’t talked to me all day. What would I ever have to do to get her to forgive me? And then she didn’t show up for her piano lesson. I called her house, but all I got was someone called Nancy, who told me she’d gone out. Did that mean she was living at home again? Whatever it was, after the half hour was up, I decided to go looking for her. And make her talk to me. I figured she’d probably be either at Zillah’s café, or at that spooky tree of hers out in the woods past town. I checked the café first, and she wasn’t there. Which somewhat disappointed me, because it was cold out, like, below zero cold, and I didn’t have a coat on. I didn’t even own a coat. I couldn’t afford one. Which was stupid shit, but whatever. Leah was sitting up in the branches of her tree, crying, when I got there. She saw me and just watched me, not saying a word. “Can I come up?” I asked softly, hoping she’d let me. She nodded. By the time I made it up the tree and sat beside her, she’d wiped away the tears. She whispered, “I’m sorry Nickel,” and looked up to me with bloodshot eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I sighed, looking out over the little trees. “Leah, you’re not the one who should be sorry. Thank you, by the way, for rescuing me in gym today.” Weakly, Leah smiled. “What did Boysen say to you?” God, she looked to sad. Her voice was so weak! I told her, “Apparently, he had a brother die of asthma when he was seventeen.” I figured that was enough to say. She raised her eyebrows and nodded slowly. “Oh. You’re feeling better though?” I nodded. Tentatively, shivering, I asked, “Where are you living right now?” Her face clouded over, but not in anger. “At home,” she admitted, “Dad let me back in… for now, at least.” Carefully, not wanting to upset her, I asked, “When was this?” She told me, “Last night. I- yeah. Last night.” Rubbing my fingers together to keep them from freezing, I asked her gently, “You wanna tell me where you stayed before that?” She bit her lip, looking strangely lonely, and told me, “With my mother.” My breath caught. “Your… mother. So you found her? How?” And quietly, Leah explained to me how she’d found out where her mom was at. Her friend Eric turning out to be her half-brother… It was almost too much of a coincidence to be true. She told me, through quietly restrained sobs, how her mother had been furious to find her, and how she’d refused to take her in, and had basically told her that she hoped never to see her again. “It’s just- I always imagined my mother to be glamorous and intelligent,” Leah confessed, “She isn’t. She lives in a freakishly small apartment- only three rooms- and works at Tim Horton’s. She’s a burnout. Goes out for drinks with her pathetic friends, and comes back with some guy, they have sex and he leaves, she cries. Nickel, I was there for four days, and I witnessed this three times. With three different guys! That’s my mother. I just… I can’t believe it.” I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry Leah,” is all I could come up with, “I’m really sorry. She… she really hurt you, didn’t she?” “Everything seems like it’s been thrown upside down. I have a father who wants me to be someone I’m not, and a mother who wants nothing to do with me. She’s had five husbands! And had a kid with each of them. Can you believe that? She walked out on every one of them. Just walked out. Didn’t even say goodbye. Five times! And she’s my mother!” “Leah… I don’t know. I know that’s got to hurt. But maybe… maybe you’re better off knowing the truth? She’s your mother, yes. But she’s not you.” She rested her head on my shoulder. “Nickel, you’re adopted. You’ve always known that right? And you’ve always known how young your birth parents were and that they were drug addicts?” I nodded. “Yeah. My parents told me.” “I’ve always known I had a mother.” She laughed weakly. “Well, obviously. My dad always told me how much better off I was without her. But I always hoped he was lying. I believed she was something far better. Did you ever imagine that your birth parents were something better than what everyone told you they were?” I had to be honest. “No. I never did. I had the best parents in the world, and I rarely even thought about the fact that I was adopted. But Leah, I can understand why you wondered. From what you’ve told me, your father hasn’t been a good dad to you. Of course you’d wish for something more. I’m just sorry you were disappointed.” She sighed. “You said that you met your birth parents once. What was that like for you?” This time, the shiver wasn’t from the cold. I told her, “It was hell. They wanted me to come live with them again. When I said I didn’t want to, they got mean. And they vowed to kill my parents if I didn’t come.” Leah gulped. “Holy,” she breathed. “But you didn’t go live with them, did you?” I changed the topic. “Leah, just remember that who your mother is doesn’t have to affect who you are. You’ve never had parents that really cared for you, have you?” Nodding, Leah agreed. “No. I never have. Maybe it’s made me stronger though.” “So go with that, right? You don’t have to let this get in your way. I know you’re going to do great things with your life. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Not if you don’t make it one.” I paused, and added, “Maybe I’m a jerk for saying this stuff, and you’ll hate me, but Leah, don’t tear yourself apart over who your mother is. And if your dad’s a jerk, then that’s his problem. Just keep on being who you know you are, okay?” Leah gave me a big hug, almost falling off the branch. “Thank you Nickel,” she said sincerely, “You’re not a jerk, you make sense.” Her voice was getting stronger, and a hint of a smile came across her lips. “And you’re right. I’ve been getting along just fine for years without proper parents. Why let this change it? Hell, my life is better than it’s ever been! I’ve- got a friend that lives in the same town as me for the first time in years!” I smiled, and it was a smile that I actually meant. “That’s the spirit!” I shivered. “You have a real talent for making things simple, you know that Nickel?” She turn on the branch to face me. “You really do. You’re amazing.” Well. If only I was good at solving my own problems. I shrugged. “Thanks Leah. But I’m not, really. Not always.” Her face got serious again, and she sighed. “You’re strong, Nickel. So strong. I don’t know how you do it, honestly. If I had to deal with as much shit as you’ve had to- diabetes, asthma, your best friend dying, moving across the world, psycho birth parents, people labeling you drug addict… and I know that isn’t the whole story. You still haven’t told me why you moved to Canada in the first place.” Whammo. I actually had to laugh, if bitterly. “Leah, don’t say that. I’m not strong at all. I’m just good at ignoring reality. And trust me, you don’t want to know why I moved here.” She gave me a long look, and said, “Yeah, Nickel, I really do want to know. But if you don’t want to tell me, I won’t push it.” Now I was close to crying. “Alright. You wanna know why? I came to Canada to live with my brother. Because my parents are dead. And you know what else? It’s my fault. Know why? Because I was a selfish jerk, and wouldn’t go and live with my birth parents. My parents were shot dead by the people who brought me into the world in the first place. Ironic? Yeah maybe a little.” Leah turned very pale, and put her hand on my shoulder, whispering, “Oh my God Nickel. I…” But I was on a roll, and I was pissed off. “Don’t give me crap about me being strong. Let me tell you, I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since I moved to Canada. Until I met you, or at least until we started hanging out, I’d been living in a two-gear existence- the gears being dead inside, or in hellfire pain inside- for months. You don’t know the half of it. Why do you think I skipped class so much and got so mad at teachers? Because I hate my life. I can’t sleep without having nightmares about- about that night when my parents were murdered, and just last night, I came two seconds away from overdosing on insulin and killing myself. Don’t give me that shit about me being strong, because you have no idea!” Now Leah was crying again. Even harder than before. She gasped, “Nickel! Why hadn’t you told me? I had no idea you- oh my God, Nickel, that’s the saddest story I’ve ever heard- you… Oh god, you’re contemplating suicide? Your parents… Oh Nickel, it wasn’t your fault!” I grabbed her trembling hand and said forcefully, “Leah, calm down. It’s okay. I won’t kill myself. I don’t have the nerve. Just… look, it feels good to finally tell someone, but please, please, don’t feel sorry for me. Please. Alright, just… forget I even mentioned it.” She threw her arms around me again, and said, “You’ve been through so much hell! It’s all so horrible! You know I’ll always be here if you ever want to talk about it, right?” Nodding, I said, “I don’t want to talk about it.” It was dark outside, and I was exhausted and freezing cold. “Look,” I proposed. “I’m going to go home now. You can think about this stuff all of tonight for all I care, but by tomorrow, you’re going to have accepted it, and please, don’t treat me any differently for it, right? The fact that my parents are dead is just a part of who I am, and I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want you to pity me or ask me questions. Is it a deal?” Slowly, Leah nodded. “But Nickel…” she whispered, “Thanks for telling me, eh?” I nodded too, and started down the tree. Leah The next day was Tuesday, and Nickel came over after work to make up for the piano lessons that we’d lost in the last couple weeks. I saw him walking down the sidewalk from my living room window at eight thirty, staring at the houses with a sort of stunned disbelief. He looked up at my house and checked the address three times before finally going to the door. I opened the door and his eyes bugged out. “Leah!” he cried, “Your house is freaking monstrous! Why didn’t you tell me you were fucking royalty?” Laughing slightly, I said, “Welcome to my home. I know, it’s completely ridiculous. Please don’t hold it against me.” Raising his eyebrows, Nickel said, “That could prove difficult. Can I move in with you?” Wincing, I told him, “Definitely wouldn’t recommend it. You’ve never met my Dad.” “Where is he?” “Working.” I rolled my eyes. “Where else?” Nickel stared around the entry room. It was this big open hall with a marble staircase leading down to the rug, and showing off the four floors above with a tall, tall ceiling. My house was big enough to fit a hundred families comfortably. “Give me a tour!” Nickel exclaimed, “I’ve never been in a house like this before. I shrugged, sort of annoyed, and said, “Alrighty then.” So we wandered through the mansion, Nickel gasping in awe at every room, while I became increasingly more bored and annoyed. There are two kitchens, and three dining rooms, each one more profligate than the last. We have dozens of sitting rooms and living rooms, two incredible home theatres, and about fifty bedrooms. (Maybe that’s exaggerating a little.) We have not one but two swimming pools, an outdoor and an indoor. We have a our own gym, bigger than the one at school. I don’t just have a bedroom like most people. I showed Nickel into my wing of the house, complete with my own kitchenette, bathroom, rec. room, hot tub, music studio, and a bedroom so overstated that I burned with embarrassment. Nickel got very quiet after the first few rooms. After the tour, when we were sitting in my music studio, him looking over my baby grand piano is absolute adoration, he asked, “Do you realize how incredibly lucky you are?” I nodded and rolled my eyes. “I know, I know. I’ve been told thousands of times.” I sighed. “But do you really think I want all of this? I don’t know if you noticed, but there is nobody else in this house. It’s a complete waste. My Father is always gone being a doctor, and sometimes I don’t see him for weeks at a time. Even if he are is in the house, I rarely see him. I’m at school all day. Our housekeeper, Nancy, is really the only person whose ever around. You have no idea how much I’d rather just have a normal sized house like most people. It’s not fun to be alone in a house this big, even if I do have everything material I could possibly want.” Nickel laughed bitterly. “It’s really ironic, isn’t it? Most people would kill for what you have.” I said, “All I can think about is how we have all this stuff we don’t need and hardly even use, while there are people out there who have nothing. It’s not fair, and I wish I could find some way to get my father to see that.” “I guess I know what you mean,” Nickel agreed, “But still…” Changing the subject, I said, “I do like my piano though. So… what do you want me to start with?” And from there, we spent the better part of two hours going over my exam pieces. I was completely in awe of how good Nickel was, not only just at playing piano, but at teaching it. In the three or four weeks I’d been taking lessons from him, I felt like I’d improved a million times over. I felt horribly guilty to know he was only getting paid eight bucks an hour. We eventually ended up sitting on the armchairs in the back of my music studio, talking. Nickel asked, “Can you believe that it’s already almost December?” I grinned. “No. It’s stupid how fast time flies. My birthday is on Saturday. December first.” He raised his eyebrows. “Your birthday? Oooh. You having a party?” Shrugging, I told him, “I was just planning to go to Edmonton and see some friends for the day.” “Oh. Cool.” He checked his watch, and leapt to his feet, swearing to himself. “It’s past eleven! I should get home now.” His face was suddenly serious, pale. Surprised, I glanced at my watch. “Oh. Yeah. Are you walking? Where do you live?” He winced, and snapped, “A long ways away.” A pained look come over his face, and he said, “Leah, I think I’m in trouble.” I tilted my head, confused. “What, will your brother be angry you’re late? I could get Nancy to drive you…” Nickel shook his head slowly, looking a bit dazed, as if he were losing focus. “I don’t feel right… should have eaten an hour ago…” His eyes suddenly stared right into mine, sending shivers down my spine. “Leah, I need something to eat. Sugar. Not chocolate. Juice, maybe. Do you understand? I think I’m going to go into shock… I’m sorry if I…” His shoulders went rigid, and he sat down on the floor, muttering to himself. I froze, petrified. “Oh my god!” I cried, and immediately shot out of the room, grabbing the entire carton of orange juice and a glass. Then I sprinted back to the music studio, where Nickel was still on the floor, chalk white and rocking back and forth. I couldn’t believe this was happening, as I gently got to my knees and poured a glass of orange juice. “Nickel?” I asked cautiously, thrusting the glass awkwardly, completely terrified of what was happening to him. He snapped, and thrust his arm out, smacking my arm away and knocking orange juice all over my shirt. “Oh my god, no! Come on Nickel, drink this!” I filled the glass again, just as I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. “Leah?” It was my father. I groaned inwardly, and called, “In here, dad, hurry! I need help.” “What the devil?” He appeared at the door, and looked shocked to see Nickel. I groaned, knowing what he must think of Nickel’s tattoos and piercings, but I didn’t care just then. “Dad! Help me! He’s diabetic. Said he needed sugar but he won’t take it…” I was nearly hysterical. My father didn’t even meet my eyes but took the orange juice from me and forcible poured it down Nickel’s throat. Three glasses of it. Nickel snapped out of it, and stared up at Father and I hopelessly. “I’m sorry…” he moaned, looking around. (Comment on this)
2:48 pm	asdf .Derek. We slept on the beach that night. It was warm and calm, and the sand was wonderfully soft. I lay flat on my back, staring up at the sky, which was now black and speckled with more stars than I'd ever seen before. Bella fell asleep immediately; I know this because I could here her deep, rhythmic breathing. I had ten siblings; I knew from years of babysitting and sharing a room how to tell when a person was sleeping. But Battle, I know was awake, because he was sitting up in the sand, unaware that I was watching him. He quietly took a vial of pills from his pocket, careful not to let them rattle. He popped the lid off and cautiously shook one small capsule into his palm. Then he placed it in his mouth and swallowed deliberately. Battle put the pills back into his pocket, and reached over to massage his right knee, grimacing tightly as he bent it and straightened it repeatedly. Worried, I turned away from the redheaded English boy, and stared up to the stars again. Everything ran through my mind, and I was petrified of what might happen to us. The more I thought about it, the more scared I got. And depressed. My mother could have already given birth to my newest brothers or sisters or both. I could be a big brother for the twelfth time, and not even know it. Would I ever meet them? Or would they grow up only hearing they myth of Derek, their older brother who disappeared the day they were born. Surely Mr. Shand would have noticed we were disappeared; surely they'd have contacted my family. I felt a pang of guilt, imagining my mother worried sick about me, maybe with two new babies on her hands, maybe about to have them… and my brothers and sisters. They should be celebrating new family members. Would they instead be fretting over my disappearance? And then there was the simple matter of surviving on the island! Would we honestly be here forever? Would Bella and Battle be the only other human beings I'd see for the rest of my life? I mean, I liked Battle just fine, and Bella… well I think I was in love with her. But… to be alone, completely, on an island with only two other people… Forever… That kind of thing really got you thinking. Everything I'd ever planned to do with my life; playing in the NFL, having a family, traveling the world… it all seemed completely hopeless now. We were trapped. What if we didn't survive? What if one of us got hurt or sick… I mean, it's not like there was a hospital on the island. Battle was asthmatic. He could have a bad attack and we'd have no way of helping him. If he ran out of medication… and what about his knee? It couldn't be more plain that it was causing him immense pain, even if he did try to hide it. What would happen if it got so bad he couldn't walk? If any of us slipped on the rocks or caught some sort of tropical disease… if we ate something we shouldn't have and poisoned ourselves… We were at the mercy of the island. If one of us were to die… could the other two bear to continue? I shuddered at the very thought. It wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen. We didn't even know what else was here. Maybe there were wild animals, waiting until night to attack. And what about food and water? We couldn't live on bananas alone, and I was already dehydrated. There must, surely, be a spring or stream or something to get freshwater from? Or would we have to rely on rainwater? This was a tropical island; surely it must rain a lot? Would we have to be brave and eat plants we didn't know were edible? Would we catch fish and try and cook them, hoping they wouldn't be poisonous? Coconuts and bananas were the only two things I recognized on the island. What other tropical foods did I know of? Pineapple? I had no idea where pineapple grew. I thought of the books I'd read about island survival. There was the whole island series by Gordon Korman. They'd found foods to eat. But then again, they had a discovery channel expert there to tell them what was edible. I somehow doubted that Bella or Battle would have any clue more than I did. It took my hours to coax myself into sleeping, but I did eventually; when I woke up, the sun was just coming up over the ocean, all pink and blue. My lips were cracked and my throat was dry. Bella was sitting in the sand, staring out into the ocean. If this hadn't been such a horrible situation, it would have been the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen; Bella was the most gorgeous girl in the world, and against a backdrop of the sunrise over an ocean… Bella turned to me and said sleepily, "Good morning." I swatted away a dozen tiny, flying, buzzing insects who'd been feasting on my blood, and sat up. "So it wasn't a dream." Helplessly, Bella shook her head. "No. It wasn't." Battle sat up suddenly, and cursed, swatting away bugs as well. He was still wearing his baggy hoodie, and I imagined he must have been swelteringly hot; I was, just wearing a t-shirt. Without his glasses on, his eyes looked small and strange, he squinted and felt the sand for the black frames, putting them on and staring around himself. He rubbed the top of his head, and said, "I think I've sunburned my scalp. My hair hurts." Then he examined his hands and rubbed at his face, saying, "Good lord. Look at this!" His hand shot out for us to see. They were spotted with red welts, swelling and angry looking. Bella gasped, quickly examining her own hands and arms, which were fine. "What is that?" His face was also covered in them, and he said, "I don't know, but they itch! Must be an allergic reaction. The bugs, maybe." Bella looked like she felt desperately sorry for him. She bit her lip, and asked, "Do you still have that Reactine? Read the box, see if it works for hives too." Despite the fact that Bella was highly resentful of her mother, there was no denying that she had a knack for medicine. He felt his pockets and nodded. "Yeah. Okay." He pulled out the box, and stared at it. "Uh… here, you look," he said, tossing it to Bella. She gave him a strange look, but said, "Alright… yeah, it says skin irritation relief. Take one, see if it helps." I asked, "But what happens when he runs out?" Battle raised his eyebrows, and said, "Hopefully, we'll be off the island by then?" But he didn't sound convinced. "This could be just a one time thing too, you know. It could clear up and never come back again. My system's just got to get used to it" He popped a pill out of the sheet, and swallowed it effortlessly without water. "I'm trying not to scratch. Don't let me, okay?" I laughed. "Right." We were silent for a few seconds, once again succumbing to the despair of our situation, staring around ourselves for the thousandth time, trying to decide if it was real. "Okay," Bella said finally, "Let's find something to eat. Bananas? Coconuts? At least for now. Soon we're going to have to find something else to eat." Battle said, "I've never eaten coconut before. Do you guys know… are they actually a type of nut?" I shrugged. "No idea. I always thought they were a fruit. They don't taste like nuts… they've got milk inside them… what other nut has that?"" Bella said, "They're not nuts. I know because I've got a friend whose allergic to all kinds of nuts, and she can still eat coconut." Battle grinned. "That's good," he laughed, "Because that's why I was asking. I'm allergic to nuts." "Really?" Bella laughed too. "Well then, you should be okay. Unless you turn out to be allergic to coconuts as well, which can happen." Grimacing, Battle said, "Well, let's just cross our fingers that I'm not, right?" "Right." The three of us walked down the beach until we found a cluster of coconut trees. We were all fairly tall people, for our age. Bella was the shortest, naturally, being the only girl, but she must have been almost five foot ten. She was slender too, but had curves in all the right places that made my mouth water. That aside, I was tall too; I'd reached six feet at age thirteen. The last time I'd been measured, I was six foot two. Until Battle came to the school, I'd always been the tallest guy. Battle probably weighed half as much as me, but was a good two inches taller. Even so, as we stood under the coconut tree, there was still no hope of any of us reaching the fruit, as it towered high above our heads. We shook the tree, but still nothing happened. "Okay," I said, "Someone's going to have to climb the tree, and it's not going to be me, because with my weight I'd probably snap the tree in two." Bella laughed. "Probably," she agreed, "I'll try, but I've never been good at climbing things." She grabbed at the trunk of the tree, but couldn't make it any further than a foot up. Battle rolled his eyes and grinned. "Okay, stand aside," he said, laughing, "I'll show you guys how it's done." Bella backed away, and Battle was halfway up the trunk in three seconds flat, demonstrating far more strength that I'd have expected from his skeletally thin frame. He pulled himself up the tree, using only his arms, his feet only touching the trunk occasionally, for extra grip. I clapped, laughing. "Bravo, Battle." He pelted down a half dozen coconuts. Bella picked up a coconut. "Now the only question is- how do we open them?" Grinning, I pulled out my pocketknife. Battle shinnied down the tree, and asked, "Why the hell do you carry a pocketknife?" I shrugged. "I'm a farm boy. It's just a habit. Gotta cut bale twine..." Battle shook his head, laughing. "Nice." .Battle. Coconuts are delicious. That's what I learned after eating two of them. It was horribly, horribly hot out, and I finally had to take my sweatshirt off, though I knew I'd be sunburned horribly by the end of the day. And I hoped the others wouldn't notice the scarring on my arms. They were mostly on my shoulders and back, but some were on my forearms… Maybe they wouldn't notice. I lead the other two to the cave I'd found the day before. At the place where the beach disappeared into the forest, leaving a sharp drop to the ocean, we pushed into the forest. Only a few feet back into the forest from where we'd climbed the day before, the incline to the headland revealed a stone wall, and in that stone wall, there was a cave. It was fairly large; bigger than my apartment back in Canada, but my apartment had only been one room; roughly the size of the average cheap hotel room. The walls of the cave were rock, with natural shelves and crevices carved into them. The floor was earthy and mossy. I hoped briefly that there wasn't any mold growing anywhere; I was allergic. "Wow," Bella said, walking around the cave and feeling the walls. "This is creepy." Derek looked a little pale, and said, "Yeah. I'll say." He gulped. I shrugged, looking around. "It's pretty good, I'd say. Nice and big. We could probably even make a fireplace in here so we can cook if it's raining." Bella nervously looked at the ceiling. "It is safe, isn't it? This isn't going to collapse on us, is it?" The ceiling was just within my reach; I brushed my fingertips along it, and said, "I dunno. Feels pretty sturdy to me." I looked at the two of them, who both looked freaked out by the cave. "What- are you guys claustrophobic or something?" Shaking her head, Bella said, "No, I'm just used to slightly more extravagant surroundings." Derek laughed. "I'll say. You're house is a fricken' palace." He didn't say anything regarding claustrophobia, just pointedly didn't look around much. We set up 'camp' fairly quickly; each finding our own special 'shelf' in the wall to put what few belonging we had; each of us had our sweaters that were to warm to wear. Derek had his Harry Potter book, and Bella had been carrying a shoulder bag, containing her wallet, a pad of paper and pen, and a pack of cards. I had my inhaler, Reactine, painkillers and a guitar pick I'd had in my pocket. "Why've you got those pills?" Bella asked curiously. Trying not to blush, (which, since I'm a redhead, didn't work), I shrugged casually. "Painkillers." Her face flicked in understanding. "For your…" "Knee, yeah," I said quickly, "Don't worry; I rarely need to take them. They make me go all dopey and I hate it." Derek asked, "Well then why were you carrying them?" he looked a little skeptical, and I wondered why. I said, "Ah, well, that's because yesterday… was it even yesterday? Or two days ago? Anyway, I was late, remember? And I had to bike to school, and I screwed my knee up in doing so, so at the hotel, after walking up all those stairs, I thought I'd die, it hurt so much, so I slipped the bottle into my pocket, thinking I'd take one as soon as nobody was around. Didn't want any stupid questions, see?" Bella asked cautiously, "Well, what exactly is wrong with your knee, then?" Hating, hating this question, I just shrugged. "It's fucked up. Long story. I don't want to talk about it." "Oh." She looked thoughtful. "Okay." We staked out our own special 'beds' on the ground, and then set to work clearing a path through the forest so that we could access the beach easily. It was hot, hard work, and by the time we were finished, the sun was passed the high point in the sky; it was after noon. Groaning, Derek moaned, "I'm thirsty! And hungry!" I couldn’t help but think that he didn’t even know the meaning of the word hungry. We’d only been here a day. That was hardly enough time to become truly hungry. But both him and Bella were from good families who fed them every day. So this was probably the hungriest they’d ever been. I rubbed at my already red and tender sunburned arms, grimaced at the itching hives all over my hands and face, and said, "Surely there's freshwater around here somewhere?" Shrugging, Bella said, "It's unlikely, isn't it? I read those books by Gordon Korman, the Island series? It said springs weren't common on islands. But that might have been a different part of the ocean. Who knows where we are?" "I read those books too," Derek agreed. "But who knows? God. And what, really, do have to set up as rain collectors? Coconut shells?" Hopelessly, I said, "We'll have to, won't we? I can barely talk, I'm so thirsty. Let's go find more coconuts; they at least have the coconut water in them." So we drank the coconut milk or water or whatever you call it, from like five coconuts each, and ate the meat ravenously. Then we ate bananas. At least five each. "I feel like such a pig," Bella moaned, looking down at the banana peels and coconut shells around us, "But I'm just so hungry!" Swallowing the last bite of banana I could stand, I said, "Already, I'm sick to death of bananas and coconuts. This sucks." And sitting there in the horrible, horrible sun, so swelteringly hot that it was nigh-on unbearable, sucked too. We were suddenly all at loss for what we should do. It wasn't as if my life had ever been a walk in the park. It wasn't as if I wasn't used to fending for myself. It wasn't as if I wasn't used to putting up with a bit of pain. It wasn't as if this was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. There had been times in my life where I'd been a million times more alone that I was now. At least here I had two other people my age who swore to stick together. But it was just the knowledge that they were the only people around, that I might ever speak to again… that was what scared me. I think it was definitely less of a tragedy for me though, than it was for Derek and Bella. Because I'd already lost my family; I'd already lost my friends. I'd already lost my dreams. There was nothing left for me in London; there never had been anything for me in Avonroy. Bella and Derek hadn't. Not until now. But knowing that both of them had people at home, dreams at home, waiting and worrying, while I'd lost nothing… I think that maybe that might of hurt even more. "Why don't we go swimming?" suggested Bella finally, brightly, as if the thought had just occurred to her. This hadn't occurred to me before either, and I felt like a total idiot for not. I practically leapt to my feet. "Oh god, yes," I agreed, "Why didn't we think of that before?" Derek was already walking towards the water. .Bella. We stood beside the water awkwardly for a moment; we were all wearing jeans and t-shirts. I was perfectly comfortable with swimming in my bra and panties; hell, they covered more than my bikini did. But I didn't know whether or not the guys would. Battle looked heartily embarrassed. But Derek solved our silent dilemma easily. "Our clothes need washed anyway. Swimming with them on is the closest thing we have to a washing machine. It was a good point. The three of us kicked off our shoes and socks, and waded out into the water, which was so wonderfully cool that we splashed and ran to get deeper and dive in. We were up to our shoulders within seconds, dunking each other and diving under to grab each other's feet. "Wow," Derek said, "They don't make lakes this clear back home." Battle said, "Well, this is hardly a lake, Derek." "I know," Derek said. My hair was tangled and horrible, so I spent some time underwater trying to get it sorted out; Battle swam off by himself looking deep in thought and staring out into the seeming abyss of the ocean. And Derek also swam off by himself, standing very still and trying to catch fish with his bare hands. My thoughts were wandering off again; of my friends back home and what they must think happened to me; my parents, probably spending a million dollars to track me down, but refusing to take time off work to do it themselves. I thought of the play back home that I had the leading role in; Pygmalion. Opening night was supposed to be at the end of May. Now what were they going to do? I heard Derek shrieking and yelling from several feet away from me. He held a fish, around the size of two footballs against his chest, whacking it on the head and trying to kill it with his other hand. The fish stopped wriggling, dead. Shocked, Derek dropped the dead fish. “Ah!” He groped in the water and picked it up again, his face taut. Both Battle and I were swimming towards him, incredulous. The three of us raced towards shore, laughing at our luck. It was odd though, watching the two guys splashing back to shore in front of me, with their shirts wet and clinging to their torsos. Battle was a good two inches taller, but it was startling to see just how much thinner he was. He looked positively concave. When we got the beach, we realized that it wasn’t as easy as just eating it. “Is it even edible?” asked Battle skeptically, looking slightly ill just looking at the dead fish. Derek examined the fish. It was silver and shining with blue on its back and little black stripes. He said, “I think it’s a bonito. My grandpa took me fishing off BC on year, we caught them, they don’t taste bad.” Wrinkling my nose, I admitted, “I’ve never been a fan of fish.” “Well,” Battle said, “Neither have I. But I mean, come on, we need protein. It’s better than coconuts and bananas for the rest of our lives.” “Okay,” I said, “Well how do we cook it?” There was a blank pause. Then Derek said, “Well, I can skin it and gut it, I know how. But I dunno about fire… I guess we should just find dry wood if we can and try to light them. So Battle and I set to work finding sticks and twigs on the forest floor, while Derek set to work getting the fish ready to cook. I couldn’t even watch, it was disgusting. Before long Battle and I had decent sized pile of sticks that were sort of dry. “Alright,” Battle said, “So how do we start a fire? Rub sticks together?” After five minutes of doing so, we’d achieved only warm sticks, but no hint of fire, and our arms were tired of rubbing sticks together. “It’s no use,” Battle said, “The sticks are too wet.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, sweating in the hot sun. I had a flash of insight. “Hey, that’s it! Let me see your glasses.” “What? My glasses…” Battle’s eyes flashed in understanding. “We can magnify the sunlight!” He looked around, “Get leaves, they’ll catch fire easier.” A few minutes later, we had a pile of dried out leaves, and were trying to concentrate a ray of the sweltering sunlight onto them. A line of intensified light caught the left lens, and I held my breath, angling it to the leaves. Neither Battle nor I spoke, watching it. We waited, hoping… but nothing happened. Battle let out a frustrated sigh. “The leaves must be too wet!” But then there was a little sizzle, and a line of smoke rose from the leaves. I had to concentrate to keep my hand steady and keep the heat coming, as Battle gasped and let out a whoop of joy. Within seconds, a single flame rose from the leaves. “Yes!” I grinned, as the rest of the leaves quickly caught fire. “Add kindling!” I cried, setting small twigs around the fire in a tipi, watching them catch fire. Within minutes, the fire was going strong. “We have to find more wood!” Battle realized, “If we want it to keep going long enough to cook fish!” We both rushed off into the woods. I filled my arms as high as I could with firewood; when I got back, Derek was roasting the fish over the fire. Battle came out through the trees a few seconds later, and dumped his armload of wood on top of mine. The two of us sat in the sand, watching Derek cook our feast. “Wow,” Battle said to me, holding out his arm, “Look at that sunburn. He lifted his sleeve to show the difference in colour from what had seen sun and what hadn’t. It looked horribly painful. I winced, and asked, “Does it hurt?” Shrugging, Battle said, “Yup. Horribly.” Derek sucked in his breath sympathetically. “Hope that’ll go away, huh?” “No kidding.” He examined his hands, and said, “But it looks like the bug bites are getting smaller. They don’t itch anymore.” “Well that’s good.” I said. Randomly, as if he’d jut thought of it, Derek asked, “Is Battle your real name?” Laughing, he pushed his red hair out of his eyes, and said, “Yep.” “Really?” asked Derek, surprised, “So what’s the story behind that? Is it a common name in London or what?” Again laughing, Battle said, “No. It’s not. The story behind it is pretty simple; that’s the name I was given at birth, by my biological mother. I’m adopted, see…” “Yeah, you told us that on the bus.” He nodded. “Yeah. Well she was just a young girl; thirteen years old. Apparently she’d been living on the streets for years and was heavy into drugs. Died right after she named me. So they figure the name Battle made sense to her because it hadn’t been easy for her to have me. And because my hair was already long and bright red at birth.” “Wow,” I breathed, “That’s horrible.” He shrugged. “Sorta. But honestly, it’s not like I ever knew her. She hadn’t planned to keep me; my parents had the adoption papers signed before I was even born. The only way it’s really affected me is the name, and that her not taking care of herself and doing drugs while pregnant with me probably is why I’ve got asthma and I’m allergic to everything.” “So what about you father? Did you ever know anything about him?” Asked Derek, showing more interest now that he could see that Battle wasn’t sensitive about it. “Dunno,” Battle shrugged, “Nobody ever told me anything about him. But he’d have been there with my birth mother if he’d cared I existed, so I don’t really care.” “Yeah, I guess,” I agreed, saddened by the story. Derek pulled the fish away from the fire and examined it. “Okay,” he smiled, “Whose ready to taste it?” Unable to ignore the gnawing pain of hunger in my stomach, I reached forward and we all ate. It tasted like fish; and I hated the taste of fish, but it was good anyway. Almost lovingly, I savored the taste, chewing and swallowing slowly. Before long, we’d eaten every last bite of the fish. We all three sat around the fire, a wistful sort of silence falling over us. .Derek. I looked around at Battle and Bella, and felt my stomach churn. I wondered what went on in their heads. I realized how little I really knew about either of them. Sure, I’d known Bella for years, our families were friends, but it wasn’t like we’d ever really hung out or anything. And I don’t think anyone knew what Battle was about. Bella was staring into the fire in a lonely sort of way. Her dark hair was tangled and pushed behind her hair, but she somehow still looked beautiful, her eyebrows arched together as if she were thinking hard. And Battle beside her looked to be a million miles away, a sort of haunted expression on his face as if he were remembering something awful. His skin was red and sunburnt, clashing with the tattoo on his neck. The shock of red on his head was wild and matted, and he subconsciously rubbed at his knee. “Did you guys here that?” I asked suddenly, sure I’d just heard a dog barking. My heart started pounding. “Hear what?” jumped Bella, snapping out of her daze. Battle’s head was erect, listening, “I heard it. Was that a dog?” I heard barking again, this time closer, and stood up. “Holy.” There was rustling coming from the trees behind us, a startlingly human voice yelling something incomprehensible, and a black spotted Dalmatian darted out from the trees. “Holy shit!” agreed Battle, as the dog stared at us and barked, “That is not a native dog, surely. There’s somebody here!” We heard someone darting through the trees after the dog, calling, “Nickel! Nickel!” It was a female voice. “Who’s there?” I screamed, excited beyond belief. How could we not have known someone else was here? “Hey!” called Battle, “Your dog’s here!” A girl, blonde and small, but probably around our age burst from the trees, calling for her dog. She saw the dog and clapped her hand, not even noticing us, but looking down the beach at her dog. Excited, I called, “Hey! Who are you?” The girl looked over. When she saw the three of us standing there by the fire, she froze instantly. Darting forward, she looked at each of us, shaking, looking wild with excitement. “Who are you?” asked Bella gently, as it was clear she was terrified. The girl gave no indication of having heard her. She moved her hands nervously, her eyes bright with happiness or maybe shock, and didn’t say anything. “Have you been here long?” I asked gently. The girl opened her mouth, but then closed it again, looking as if she was mightily confused. Bella stepped forward and asked, “Do you speak English?” Looking somewhat frustrated, the blonde girl opened her mouth and said something I didn’t understand. She made a strange motion with her hands. I looked to Bella and Battle helplessly. Bella looked just as confused. But Battle’s face clicked in understanding. “Oh!” he breathed, stepping forward and making a motion with his own hands. Her face split into a wide grin, and she nodded, making another motion. “She’s deaf!” Battle told us. His hands moved again, in what I understood to be sign language, and the girl signed back eagerly. “What are you saying?” asked Bella breathlessly, watching the blonde girl carefully. “I asked her if she were deaf, and then asked her how long she got here. She said two years.” Bella gasped, horrified. “Ask her how she got here!” she gasped, smiling friendlily at the strange girl. “How did you get here?” asked Battle, talking aloud as he signed to the girl. She shook her head and pointed to us, signing something back. “She wants to know first how we got here and when,” Battle explained, signing back and speaking out loud as he explained how we’d been kidnapped and ended up here. The girl blinked, looking heartbroken. She signed again. “She says, ‘So you are stranded here too.’,” Battle explained, nodding. The girl started signing again, and Battle translated for us, saying the words aloud as she signed them. “My father took me here when I was thirteen years old. He wanted to be away from all society; he had a mental illness. We lived here a year before he died, a seizure of some kind. I have been here ever since; he told no-one where to find us, and cast the boat off to sea to be sure we would never leave.” I was astounded. “How did you get here?” I asked forgetting that she couldn’t hear. Derek conveyed my question. “She says, ‘We flew to the Caribbean and we took a boat far out into the ocean, until we had no more gas and were far from anywhere anyone knew; my father was a smart man, though many thought him crazy. He knew many things of how to survive and I leaned from him.” “Wow,” whistled Bella, “That is incredible. How old is she? What is her name?” Battle asked her. “She’s fifteen…,” he said, “And her name is… S-a-r-i-m-a.” The girl now spoke aloud, pronouncing her own name for us in a strangely hollow voice. “Sarima.” “She asks us our own names,” Battle added, and signed each our names to her, letter by letter, as she pointed to us. Shakily, she tried out our names on her own lips, speaking in a way that made it obvious she didn’t know what she sounded like. “Batt-ell?” She asked, pointing to Battle. He nodded. She got Bella’s name right too, and mine. Then she signed something to Battle. “I’m sixteen,” he said signing, looked to us questioningly. “I’m fifteen,” I said. Battle signed that to her. Bella was fifteen too. “Where are you from?” He signed, speaking out loud. She signed back. “Ireland,” he conveyed to us. “She’s from Ireland.” He signed to her, “We are all three from a town called Avonroy, in Alberta, a province in Canada. But I am originally from London, England; I moved to Canada in January.” She signed something back, and he laughed, saying, “It’s May.” Looking happy, she asked something else. Derek signed back and spoke so we knew what he was saying, “My best mate back in London was deaf.” She’d apparently asked him how he knew sign language. My mind was reeling. There had been someone living here the whole time. For four years, she’d been alone. How terrible must that be for her? “Where have you been sleeping?” I asked. “A cave,” Derek told me, after the two of them had exchanged more hand signals. “She wants us to show us our cave.” We led her to the cave we’d set up earlier in the day. She looked around, impressed. Derek translated what she signed, “I never knew this cave was here.” She walked around to the shelves where we’d set down our few belongings. “I hope you don’t mind me looking,” Battle told us she’d said. We all shook our heads. She picked up Bella’s pad of paper, and looked heartened. She signed something to Battle. “She says she can write messages to you two and teach you sign language by writing words and then signing them.” I grinned, happy to know that she wanted to stay with us, that she’d already invited herself to become our friend, to know that she wanted to talk to us. When she saw my copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, her eyes almost bugged out of her head. Her smile was miles wide as she picked it up and looked at each of us as if asking whose it was. I pointed to myself. She grinned widely and held up six fingers. I understood that to be her asking if it were the sixth book, and I nodded. She did a strange little skip of joy, and signed something to Battle. He laughed, and he said, “She wants to know if you’ll let her read it. She says she was obsessed with Harry Potter and had given up hope of ever reading another book. She says she’s got the other five in her cave.” I grinned, thrilled that I’d have access to the other books, and nodded to Sarima. “Go ahead. I know what it’s like to wait and wait for Harry Potter. Battle signed this back to Sarima, who smiled sweetly, and hugged me, laughing. She motioned for us to follow her, and said something to Battle, who told us, “She’s going to show us her own cave.” “Okay!” Bella said, in better spirits than I’d ever seen her. I guessed that she was glad not to be the only female anymore. Or just that there was another human being. But her smile was nothing compared to Sarima’s. I couldn’t imagine how elated she must be to talk to other human beings for the first time in a year. .Sarima. My mind was reeling with the strangeness; the awesomeness of it all. Human beings! Human beings here! Talking to me! What an incredible coincidence too, that they were my own age, that one of them actually spoke sign language. I was ecstatic. It was just too bad they had no way out of here. At any rate, I was shaking with glee. I had been so unbearable lonely this last year! And they had the sixth Harry Potter book… Oh, that made me happy. The Half-Blood Prince… I wondered what it could mean. There were three of them. Battle, the one who spoke sign language, Bella, the beautiful girl, and Derek, the big blonde guy. Battle was tall and skinny, with adorable red hair and freckles; he was sunburned horribly, and had tattoos and piercings, making him look very cool. He wore square glasses, and I noticed that as he led me to their cave, he seemed to be limping. I was already getting a crush on his lazy grin and his fluency at sign language. Not even my Dad had been that good. As for Bella, she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen; looked like the girls at my old school who’d tormented me. But yet she seemed very curious and interested and happy to see me. And Derek was huge, and had curly blonde hair; he looked nice too. I was just shocked to see human beings. I showed them into my cave, across the island from theirs. It was twice as big, and much more friendly looking, I thought. This had been my home for two years. All three of them looked amazed as they walked in, seeing the things I had. Derek and Bella both gravitated towards the crate of books; I got the impression that they were both bookworms just by the way they looked through the three dozen odd books with big grins on their faces. Battle looked at the cooking supplies; pots, pans, forks and knives, and looked happy. Bella found my trunk full of clothes, and smiled to herself. Derek looked at the fishing equipment and smiled happily. And Battle found my Dad’s guitar. His entire face lit up, and he motioned for me to come over. “Can I play this?” he asked. I shrugged, and signed, “I don’t care. I can’t play myself. Go ahead.” He nodded, and signed back, “I was so horrified that I might never be able to play again. Guitar playing is like an addiction for me.” Wistfully, I told him, “It’s yours. It’s not like I really know about music.” Sadly, he signed, “That sucks.” I shrugged. Battle looked over to Bella, who seemed to be calling to him. He said something to her, and listened to whatever she was saying, then signed to me, “Bella wants to know if she can use your brush; her hair is a disaster.” I nodded, grinning widely, so glad to be able to help anything. I turned to her so she could see that it was fine. She smiled warmly and I knew she was thanking me. I hadn’t felt so happy in my life, or so it seemed. I didn’t have much, but it was more than they had, and they were happy looking at it all. I signed to Battle, “Do you guys want to move in here? There is plenty of room.” He smiled, a smile that made my knees melt, and said something to the others, who all nodded, and smiled too. “Yes,” he signed to me, “That would be more than awesome.” I said, “I’ll come with you to get your things.” And so once again we set off to cross the island; the sun was starting to go down. Derek pointed to the large pails I had sitting on the beach, full of rainwater, and said something, his eyes almost bugging out. Battle signed quickly to me, “We haven’t drank a thing but coconut juice in days. Could we…” I nodded quickly, knowing how dangerous it was to be dehydrated on this island. They all looked wonderfully relieved and grateful. “Just drink right from the pails,” I signed, “I have no glasses. Drink as much as you like, there’s no shortage.” It rained here all the time, and I had a dozen pails set out. Battle nodded, and told the others. Each of them drained an entire pail, looking much more energized and happy once they finished. Each of them hugged me. I was flying high with happiness. We got the their cave, and they picked up their very few belongings. Derek had his lovely Harry Potter book and a pocketknife, Bella had a bag full of things; a wallet, the notebook and pen, and a pack of cards; I was rather excited at the prospect of actually having people to play cards with. And Battle had what looked like an asthma inhaler, a bottle of little white pills, and a box of allergy medicine. “Do you have asthma?” I asked him, gesturing to the inhaler. He wrinkled his nose and nodded, holding up the box of allergy medicine, a brand called Reactine. He signed, “And I’m allergic to practically everything.” I pointed to the other vial of pills and asked, “What about those?” He motioned to his knee, and told me, “Painkillers. I injured my knee a few years ago and it never healed properly.” I felt sorry for him, but somehow found it adorable. We deserted their cave, and it was only then that I thought of Nickel. Where had he gone? I looked around for the dog, and then called his name, not knowing how loud I was. “Is that your dog’s name?” asked Battle, looking around too. I nodded. “I’d completely forgotten about him. He’s probably back at my cave.” We set of back through the forest and towards my cave again; it was getting dark out. We reached the cave, and I showed them places to put their stuff. I looked around for Nickel but didn’t see him anywhere. I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked to see Battle. He signed to me, “Is your dog’s name Nickel?” I nodded. I saw him open his mouth to call him. The other two did the same, and so did I. A few seconds later, the Dalmatian appeared out of the trees, growling suspiciously at Battle, Bella, and Derek. Stroking him gently, I showed him that it was okay, they weren’t going to hurt us. Bella came forward and motioned to ask if she could pet him. I nodded. She rubbed his head and played with him happily; Nickel immediately trusted her. Derek leaned down and Bella let Nickel go to him; Derek seemed to really love animals; he knew just where to pet and scratch Nickel to make him love him. Grinning, I looked at the sky; it was fast clouding over. I pointed to the sky, motioning to Bella that it would probably rain soon. “We should make a fire in the cave, its going to rain and get dark,” I told Battle, who conveyed the message to Bella and Derek. Together, we started the fire in the fire pit I’d made in my cave long ago. I showed them how to twist the twigs against each other with dried bark between them to quickly start a fire. “We used my glasses to magnify the sun and start a fire earlier,” Battle told me, laughing. I laughed as well. “It’s a good idea,” I signed. Bella and Derek both looked frustrated. Bella said something to Battle, just as it started to pour outside the cave. Battle signed to me, “They want us to teach them sign language right now. It’s driving them crazy not to be able to say anything to you.” I signed back, “The alphabet first; then they can spell words to me that they don’t know.” Battle nodded in agreement, and asked me, “Can you read lips at all?” Wrinkling my nose, I admitted, “I used to be able to, but not very well. I just never really got the hang of it. If you say words out loud while you sign them, I might pick it up again, but I dunno.” Nodding, he said something to Bella and Derek. He turned back to me, and said, “I’ll teach Derek, you teach Bella.” Grinning, I nodded. She came and sat beside me. She said something slowly, making a motion of writing, to ask me if I wanted paper to write things down. I shook my head, and thought hard to remember how to say, “Alphabet.” She nodded. I showed her how to make the ‘A’ with her hand. She mimicked me. I went through the whole alphabet, making the sounds as I did. I’d gone deaf in the first grade; so I knew how to make the sounds, or at least I hoped I did; I couldn’t hear myself to know if I was really saying it right. Bella was a very fast learner. After I finished showing her all the letters, she tried to go through it herself, slowly. She had to stop and wait for me to show her the right position every four or five letters, but it was pretty good for the first time. After four or five times, she got the whole thing right. Then she spelled out to me, “Thank you.” I couldn’t help but split into a wide grin. I spelled back, “Thank you,” and then showed her the sign for ‘thanks’. And then I said, “You’re welcome,” and showed her the sign language. She tried it herself, and I nodded. She smiled. “Are you glad to have us here?” she spelled out slowly, I nodded, and signed back, “Yes. You have no idea how glad I am. It’s been horribly lonely here.” She nodded, and said, “I’ll bet.” And then Derek came and sat beside me. Slowly, he signed, “Am I doing this right?” I laughed, and nodded. “You learn fast,” I spelled. He grinned goofily, and signed back, “This is weird, huh? Us all being here? It’s like some warped reality or something.” Impressed by the easy, almost poetic way words flowed from his fingers, I nodded. “No kidding. It’s crazy.” But he just sighed, looking over to Bella, who was talking to Battle and facing the other way. He said, “This is hard. It takes too long to say stuff.” I said, “It’ll get easier as you learn the real language.” And I repeated what I’d said in the faster signing. He grinned, and nodded. “Yeah,” he spelled, nodding, “Always do that; repeat what you say, so I’ll learn.” I nodded. He looked over at Bella again, who was laughing with Battle about something. When he turned back to me, I raised my eyebrows, flicking my eyes pointedly between him and Bella. He flushed, only slightly, and nodded. He spelled, “Is it that obvious?” Shrugging, I told him, “Maybe to everyone but her.” He sighed sheepishly, and spelled, “Our parents are old friends, we’ve known each other forever. She’ll never think of me like that.” “Hey,” I objected, hating how slow the conversation had to go, “Don’t give up too soon.” He nodded, and signed, “I don’t think it’s possible to give up. I’m secretly madly in love with her.” I laughed. .Battle. I was thrilled out of my mind that there was someone else here; someone who would know more about how to survive, who had water, who had a guitar, who… well, was a human girl our age. What a girl she was too; obviously very smart, judging by all the books, and the way she understood everything I signed to her immediately. She reminded me forcibly of Jordan, probably only because she too was deaf, but it still was slightly painful. I hadn’t used sign language since he’d died. But I liked her. She was a small girl; didn’t even come up to my shoulder, but that wasn’t unusual; I’m six foot five. But she had that spirit about her; the hope at just finding us here, and anytime she could help us in any way, her face just lit up as if it were Christmas. We were all exhausted from a long day in the hot sun without much to eat or drink, and I think Sarima could see that; it was absolutely pouring outside, and pitch black, but around the fire, it was quite comfortable in the cave. She signed to me, “You guys should get some sleep. You look tired.” And so we found places on the soft ground to lay down, and within seconds, I could hear Derek snoring; I knew he’d barely slept the night before. Bella was soon asleep too, and as soon as I noticed that she was, I fell asleep myself. I dreamed that the four of us were all sitting on the beach, sipping tea from my mother’s antique teacups. Sarima was talking animatedly about her favorite rock band. Then suddenly, a dark shadow fell over us, and I was back in London, huddled against the dumpster behind the library, still sipping tea. Crock jumped out in from of me, stoned out of his mind, and told me he’d just seen my parents. So I stood up and walked to my house. My parents were sitting at the table, talking about bubblegum. Then the door burst open, and there was the horrible sound of gunfire… my mother screamed and fell off her chair, blood splattering her shirt… then another shot, and my father went down, his head literally exploding. I was covered in their blood… And then I ran, screaming. “Battle! Wake up! Wake up!” I screamed even louder, and sat up, heart pounding and feeling the tears streaming down my face. Oh god. I felt sick. I was going to throw up… I pushed Bella out of the way and ran out of the cave, vomiting all over the ground. I was sweaty and shaking, trying to calm down… “Oh my god,” Derek breathed, standing at the mouth of the cave with Bella by his side, “Are you alright?” Severely embarrassed, I muttered weakly, “Sorry. Sorry. It was just… a really bad dream…” “Must have been,” Derek said, looking disturbed, “I never saw anyone be physically sick because of a dream before… except in Harry Potter…” I choked out laugh through my tears. “I’m so sorry guys, this is disgusting, I know.” My voice was shaky still, and I felt horribly dizzy. Come on, Battle, that was four years ago! Get over it. Quietly, her face pinched in concern and curiosity, Bella asked me, “Are you sick? Maybe the fish didn’t agree with you?” Shaking my head, I said, “No, really, I’m fine. It was the dream that made me sick…. It was… not a good dream.” “What did you dream?” asked Derek, watching me closely. I turned away, as Nickel came sniffing around to see what the commotion was. “I don’t want to talk about it. Go back to sleep.” I patted the dog briefly on the head, and looked to see Sarima still fast asleep, not having heard a thing. Bella gave me a hug, and said, “Alright. Feel better soon.” I nodded, and collapsed back to my ‘bed’. I was asleep in seconds. When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that the skin on my arms felt as if it were on fire. I couldn’t even bend my elbows without it smarting and stinging. “Ug,” I grumbled, pushing myself to my feet. I looked around the cave, and was a bit alarmed to see that everyone else had left. I put my glasses on and looked around again, but nope, nobody was there. From outside the cave, I hard the dog barking, and Derek’s voice talking and laughing to him, so I relaxed, and went out to see what was up. Derek was playing fetch with Nickel on the beach. When he saw me, Derek dropped the stick, patted Nickel on the head, and came over. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully. I yawned, and said, “Yeah. Great. Where are the girls?” He pointed towards the trees, and told me, “They went to find breakfast. Sarima was going to show Bella different plants and stuff to eat.” “Oh,” I shrugged. “Cool.” I picked up a pail that had been refilled with water over the night, and took a long drink. “So wow. This is wild eh? That Sarima’s here?” Derek nodded, sitting down on a square rock on the beach and playing with the dog absently. “It’s insane. Nice though. I think Bella’s especially glad for another girl.” I laughed, sitting down in the sand and looking out at the ocean. “I imagine you’re right.” He nodded, looking far off in space. “You fancy her, don’t you?” I observed, as Nickel stood up to chase a strange looking bird down the beach. Rolling his eyes and going pink, Derek nodded. “Yeah. Sarima’s already noticed as well. Do you think Bella has any clue?” Honestly, I said, “No. She’s oblivious. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t got a chance.” Biting his lip and shaking his head, the blonde guy admitted to me, “I never had a girlfriend before. Most girls just think of me as their friend, not a possible romance. I’ve liked Bella since we were twelve years old.” “Well, what better a place to chance that than here?” He shook his head furiously. “No way. Just think of what would happen if I asked her, and she said no. We’re trapped here together. It would be incredibly awkward. And anyway, even if we did get together, then lets say we split up? And we’re still stuck here together. It could be ugly.” I could see where he was coming from. Nickel came running back to us, jumping all over Derek, barking. He pushed the dog back the ground, smiling and patting him on the head. I said, “Yeah, I can see what you mean. But hey, you never know, right? It could work out beautifully. You don’t want to wait until it’s too late.” Nickel came over to me, more suspiciously; I hadn’t had much to do with the dog yet. I rubbed the god behind the ears, while Derek asked me, “What about you? You’re so cool, surely you’ve had a girlfriend?” Wincing, I told him, “Yeah, you’re right about that. Her name was Helena.” “She the only one you ever had?” I nodded, and said, “We were sort of like you and Bella; I’d known her forever, we’d always been friends. We started ‘going out’ when we were in the sixth grade, which is probably sounding like way too young, but we didn’t care.” I sneezed three times, and shooed the dog away, rolling my eyes. Derek laughed at me. “You’re allergic to dogs?” I nodded. He shook his head, chuckling. I shrugged. “So how long did you date Helena?” he asked. “Well, believe it or not, almost four years,” I said, feeling a horrible knot forming in my stomach, a lump rising in my throat. “All through grades six, seven, eight, and nine.” “Oh, so you’re still dating her?” asked Derek, looking surprised. “That’s rough.” Realizing what he meant, I shook my head. “Oh. No, no I’m not. I failed grade nine. This was my second year of it.” Raising his eyebrows, Derek said, “Oh really? Okay. So you dated her four years. For a guys your age, that’s pretty incredible. What happened?” I pursed my lips, giving him a long look. “Okay,” I said finally, “I’m going to tell you this only because I trust you and think it might help you with Bella if you knew this. But just don’t feel sorry for me or anything.” I blinked a couple times, almost crying. He looked a bit taken aback. “Wow. Okay. Sorry, I didn’t realize it would be so painful.” I told him, “Helena was really special to me, that’s all. She died, in August. Got ill one day, died the next. The doctors never figured out what went wrong.” Now Derek’s eyes were wide and he looked pale. “Oh. Oh that’s awful! Battle, I’m so sorry!” “Don’t be sorry,” I emphasized, “Because it isn’t your fault. I dunno. I mean, I really think that I might have been in love with her. At any rate, we were as close as two people can be. I don’t’ think there was anything about me she didn’t know. But it’s been nine months, and a lot has happened since then. So don’t pity me, please. Just think about what you’d feel if something like that happened to Bella and you’d never told her how you feel.” Derek nodded, looking very thoughtful. “Yeah. Okay. Well… I dunno. I gotta think about a lot of stuff.” I nodded, and Nickel jumped up on my lap, licking my face and yelping. “Ah!” I objected, gently pushing him away. Derek laughed and called, “Hey Nickel! Come ‘ere, buddy!” The dog happily turned and jumped up onto Derek’s lap, while I dissolved into a sneezing fit, letting tears escape my eyes as I did, glad of an excuse to cry. I could say it was just allergies. .Bella. Sarima and I didn’t say much to each other; she had a silent way of getting her point across, that I really liked. She showed me different roots and strange looking fruits, and we gathered enough food for four people. When we got back to the beach by our cave, Battle and Derek were sitting on the beach, deep in conversation, both looking sad. I could have sworn that Battle’s eyes were red as if he’d been crying. “Hey you two, we’ve got you breakfast!” I called. (Comment on this)
Saturday, September 17th, 2005
2:40 pm	Days go by!! Oops, I kinda forgot about this journal! But thats okay, cuz I don't think anyone really would read it anyway! lol. So whats been going on in my life is a whole lot of nothing. And some school. But let's not think about that. Mark (my boyfriend) is coming over later today, and I'm pretty excited! I haven't seen him in like five days! lol its really tragic. But anyway, I decided to write some more in here. I don't really know much about how livejournal works, so I don't really know how to do this, but I want to post some of this story I'm writing. Well actually, its not actually part of the story, but just a bit of me playing with my own characters! I do that a lot, like I'll just take the characters from a story I'm writing, and write out these little drabbles with them, that will never actually be in the story! Usually, these include some sneezing! Cuz I do like sneezing! haha I'm such a weirdo. But thats okay, cuz I don't care. Although, I must say, I don't find sneezing from colds all that appealing. Its just the allergy sneezes that I like. Colds are just kind of... gross, to me. But allergies, now that I like. It's like, the permanent weakness thing that I like. Hard to explain. But whatever! I'm back in dear old Alberta now, and it's been raining all week. The grass is actually green now! Which, according to people that actually live in alberta all the time, it hasn't been for a long time. BUt thats kind of irrevelent, so i don't know why i brought it up. Gotta go, bye. Current Mood: artistic Current Music: let this one stay (Comment on this)
Friday, August 19th, 2005
1:18 pm	Later... heres more. Well this has been a crappy week, hasn't it. Gees, it's supposed to be summer, but its fricken COLD. Seriously, it was like 4 dgrees a few days ago. brrrrrr. My boyfriend was supposed to call me this morning, but he didn't. I know I shouldn't worry about it, but I just can't help it. Call me paranoid. I guess too many people have died this summer for me to help it. Gees, I sound so whiney. I'm feeling incredibly brave cuz I put in a claim for the 'GLOOMY' mood thing at that sneezefic challenge thig... forget what its called. I've only written 2 sneezefics before, and I honestly didn't think I'd ever write another, but it seems its a bit addicting. I just hope it doesn't distract me too far away from my other writing. Not that it really matters, cuz I'll never get it published anyway. Grr. lol I guess thats life. I'm mad at myself cuz I stayed up till 2 am last night reading. I've got to stop doing that. It was a really good book though. The Davinci Code by Dan Brown. great book, I loved it. The thing is that I've been having so much trouble falling asleep, so even after I finished the book, I must have laid there for three hours without sleeping. Insomnia sucks. So for my gloomy fic, I've got a really weird plan, but now I'm not too sure that it really fits in with the gloomy theme. oops. I'll try though. more later Current Mood: gloomy Current Music: Adhesive (Comment on this)
Thursday, August 18th, 2005
8:33 pm	In the Beginning... Wow, this is crazy. I never thought I'd actually get one of these journals. So what you should know if you're reading this is that I'm a writer, and my brain is strangely addled. So if I'm not making sense, then I'm in my weird 'zone'. Also, I have a sneezing fetish. heheh. More later. Current Mood: complacent Current Music: Cryptic Nonesense (Comment on this)