Hiya! So throughout the chapters you may find a song that I picked out for a part of the chapter. How you will know when to listen to it is to look out for a bold <>.

I hope you enjoy the book and also the songs that I pick out!

Happy reads!

Darlah

The edge of the hospital bed I sat on was stiff and crinkly. The news I waited for was something I already knew and I didn't understand why we had to wait for it. The phone in my hands was supposed to distract me from my toxic thoughts although as I looked at social media it only caused bitter feelings to sore as I saw people's photos of traveling and just enjoying the summer break. Jealousy hit me like signing nettle, wishing to be doing that kind of fun stuff. Instead, I was stuck in this town, having no choice but to stay. I couldn't just pick up and leave on a whim like so many people I knew. Being in a town that was so small, everyone knew everyone, made sure that everyone knew I spent most of my time at the hospital.

"Clare what do you think about going to get ice cream after this?" mom asked me with a smile as she patted my leg, causing me to look up at my straight blonde haired mother. 

I gave her a small smile back, but I didn't force it to stay. She tried so hard to make the best out of things, but sometimes life just sucked and there was no amount of ice cream that could fix it.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Sure. I guess," I stated, then looked back at my phone as if it was more interesting. There was nothing exciting about my phone, there never was since I didn't have any friends. But the thing was, I wasn't in the mood to talk. In the silence of the clinical room, I could feel the start of a headache coming on. Like normal, I put my hand up to my head behind my right ear and pushed against my head, knowing that this would stop the sharp pains I was feeling.

On cue, the door swung open and walked in Doctor Patel, my doctor of the last two years. He gave a small smile and said, "Clare, how are you today?"

I looked at the tall thin man with dark brown skin and replied, "good."

A frown appeared on his thin lips, not liking what I told him. "Well, you're here, so that means that you're not that good."

His bluntness was like a slap to the face, a painful reminder of the reality I lived, but by now I was used to it. After all, I could be as blunt as him.

"We do this every time you come in, Clare, tell me what you're feeling." 

I put my hands on my hips, suddenly feeling very stubborn. If he was going to boss me around like that, I was not in the mood. "And you have to tell me what you found on my MRI."

His sigh was audible in the quiet small room the smelt like rubbing alcohol. 

"Clare," mom snapped, but I didn't care if I wasn't being polite. I didn't even acknowledge her outburst at me. She often disapproved of my actions. She always thought I was too sharp, not polite enough, not kind enough, so on, so forth but that's what happens when you get hardly any human interaction for the last few years.

Dr. Patel frowned at me again which forced me to hold back a smirk that wanted to come onto my face. I convinced myself that I was one of his most difficult patients.

"Well, I just looked at your MRI that you took this morning and I'm sorry, but it looks like nothing has changed. The cancer's still in your bones of your right arm and also in your chest."

Frowning at him, and I could hear mom take a sharp gasp, no doubt holding back tears. I don't know why I frowned, because I knew this was going to happen. Terrible luck followed me like a stalker in the night. So why would I even hope that things would get better when I knew they wouldn't. I couldn't win a bag of poop if they were giving it away for free. 

The last few years, I had filled my body with so many drugs I couldn't pronounce, but nothing seemed to work well enough to make the cancer go way completely. I have been in the same position for months, nothing has changed, the cancer was still there, reminding me that it was the one that really held my destiny, not me. I took a deep breath and put on my brave face that Doctor Patel knew so well. "Ok, so what's next?"

"I know you want to stay here in state, so I was able to pull a new trail study here from Boston. You fit the requirements of what they are looking for. So far the people that have been on the drug have seen improvement."

I didn't think about it long as he continued to talk. At this moment I had nothing left to lose. I shrugged at him. "Sure. Let's try it."

I had neuroblastoma for almost three years now. Over that time, I have seen it get better, and I have seen it get worse. But I have never seen it disappear. I told you, terrible luck. Even with all these new treatments, cancer still wrecked my body.

It was crushing every time I heard the phrase, 'nothing has changed' or 'things have gotten worse'. But these years have allowed me to prefect my brave face, convinced that no one could see through it. Cold marble features hit my face as I looked at Dr. Patel, who was still talking.

What I wanted most was to be free from this thing that was suffocating me, slowly killing me from the inside. Even though in my marathon fight, I was tired, but I was still willing to try anything that would make it go away. That way why I didn't need to listen to specifics. I just wanted to be included on a trial drug no matter what cost.

If I had time, I could tell you how we discovered the neuroblastoma but that is a long and boring story that involved loads of tests, hospital stays, and sleepless nights. Trust me, boring.

"Clare, are you sure you want to go through this?" he asked, using my name like a lasso to pull me back into the conversation.

"You're suggesting it to me, that means you're willing to try it. You're my doctor and you want the best for me. I trust you. If you think there's hope, then I'm on board."

He chewed on his lip for a second in thought. I think my statement caught him off guard. "I would like to talk to your mom for a second. Alone."

My face puckered up as if I ate a lemon. I hated when he did this. I wanted to know everything that he was telling my parents, but he always would leave things out in front of me. It was as if I couldn't take what he was going to tell them, but I could. He knew that. "Ok," I said curtly, then got up from the bed and walked out of the room.

This was the point when I hated being a minor. Being 17 made me feel old but young at the same time. I wasn't an adult, but I wasn't a child either.

I rested my back against the wall and looked at the window across the hall as birds flew just outside the third-floor window, looking so free. Wishfully, I wanted to be like that, not have to worry about anything, do what I wanted to. I sighed in frustration.

"Hey Clare!" a nurse said as she walked by me.

I smiled lightly as she passed me. "Hey Mary," I replied with a small wave.

For going to the same hospital for the past three years, I knew almost all the nurses by name. I felt like a celebrity here, but the wrong kind of celebrity.

"I have to do this really fast, but I hope you're doing ok," she said as she held up a cup of pills in her hand.

"Yeah, everything's fine," I said as she passed me. At that moment, Dr. Patel opened the door to look at me. And here was the moment of truth.

"Clare, if you would come back in?"

Saying nothing, I walked back in, this time sitting next to my mom in an empty chair. I never liked those hospital beds anyhow. They made me feel sick, and I didn't want to be reminded of that. "So what's the plan, Stan?"

He held back a small smile as he stared at me. It had always been a goal of mine to get him to laugh. It still hasn't happened. He was always so serious, but I wanted him to know that he could still smile sometimes. "We want to get you on this treatment as soon as possible."

I nodded at him. "Ok. Sure. When?"

"Next week on Monday," he said as he reached behind himself on a side table and got some paperwork. "I want you to read over the side effects and what you should expect from the treatment." He handed me a small stack of paperwork.

Awesome. Not only did I have to take a final in chemistry before Monday, but now I had to read this lovely stack of papers. There was nothing I loved more than to spend my free time reading about medical terminology. If I didn't fight him on this but he would never know that I had no proper plan on reading it.

He eyed me as if reading my mind. "I really want you to read the paperwork this time, Clare," he added.

I frowned. He knew me a little too well. "I'll try my best." I flipped through the papers quickly as if I would read them. There had to be enough in my hands to make a small book.

He nodded at me, then sighed. "Ok, well, do you two have questions for me?"

"Nope," I said, popping the p. I had checked out of the meeting minutes ago and wanted to be back home, where I was most comfortable.

He looked at my mom, waiting for a response from her, as if mine wasn't good enough. "No, I think we are good," she breathed.

"Alright, I'll see you on Monday." He got up from his chair and held the door open for us to leave.

<><><><>

As we drove home in silence, the trees that we drove past blur together, making a mixture of green and brown clumps. The sun shined into the car, blinding me, but I welcomed the feeling.

Summer was my favorite time of year since I couldn't get enough of the weather, the sun, and the long days. However, we had been in the hospital almost all day and now the sun was setting. That was what I called a waste of a nice day. But this was how I spent a lot of my days, wasted in the hospital. 

"How about that ice cream?" mom asked.

I looked over at her and said, "sure."

We took a turn and went off the freeway, driving through a few smaller roads until we found ourselves in another small college town that had the best ice cream around. We turned into our favorite ice cream place and mom parked the car. She took my hand in hers and looked at me. "Look, this treatment will work. This is going to be the one. I can feel it," she said, with emotion dripping from her voice.

I nodded as I held back a frown. I had a feeling that she was going to give me a pep talk. She always had such hope for every treatment. But there was only so much disappointment I could handle. I was too tired to agree or fight with her on the topic. Instead I just replied, "mom, please, I don't want to talk about this at the ice cream parking lot."

"Clare, you know what the support group said. They believe that having a positive outlook helps things."

I held my tongue as I looked back at her. I had tried to have a positive outlook for the past three years. Trust me; if you met me three years ago, you would have seen this super positive girl that loved to see the best in things. That me had slowly died since then and I didn't know if I could keep it alive much longer. I was slowly giving up and mom could see that more than anyone else. "I know what the support group says, mom. I used to go every week, I have those prep talks memorized. You know those meetings were useless."

Her eyes got watery as she squeezed my hands. "Please, Clare, try to have a positive outlook. Do this for me, for your dad, and for your sister."

Here came the waterworks and I was waiting for this moment. I squeezed my mom's hand. "Ok. I promise," I said to her, having no energy to disagree with her anymore. I didn't want to have her sobbing in the ice cream parking lot, for pity sakes.

She wiped her eyes and sniffled a little as she tried to pull herself together once again. "Thank you... I love you so much, Clare. We just need to have faith that this will work."

I held back a frown from my face. Faith, that word will only carry one so far. In the back of my mind, I thought, what if it doesn't work? So many other treatments hadn't worked. Why would this one? I held my concerns at bay and just simply replied, "I love you too mom." We sat in the car for a minute or two until my mom regained herself then we left to get ice cream.

<><><><>

By time we got home that night, and I just barely was able to drag feet inside the house, trying my best to not trip in the process from lack of energy to move my feet forward. I took off my shoes and looked around at the large entryway of the house. The grand entryway was inviting, with its white walls and dark wood floor. The smell of dinner came wafting in, hinting at a dinner already made and was waiting for us. At that moment, I knew I was home.

"Hey champ! How did it go?" dad asked me as he walked down the stairs to the ground floor of our house. I looked at this man that had thinning buzzed hair and smiled lightly. He was my biggest cheerleader in the family.

He didn't always go to my appointments, and I didn't expect him to come to all of them. It wasn't because I didn't want him to be there for me, because I did, but I understood he was a busy man. He had his own business in marketing to run. He was always working, it seemed. But somehow he always made time for me and my sister. I was afraid sometimes that we stretched him too thin. I swear I was causing him to get gray hair.

I shrugged my shoulders. There wasn't much to say. Nothing has changed, so why give him false hope for something that would never happen. "Same as normal."

He frowned, then kissed mom. He turned to her and asked the same question, not happy with my response. "How was it?"

He never trusted my response, but mine was the honest one. He just wanted to hear it a flowery way. I believed that sometimes, mom gave too much hope and if it didn't work out, they were always crushed. That was why I told them blunt honest responses, less pent up hope.

She sighed to him as she took off her shoes. "Like Clare said, nothing has really changed. They want to put her on a new trail drug starting on Monday. They have hope with this one since they have seen success with other patients and are hoping to see the same results with Clare," she explained to him. She continued to talk to him, but I quickly got bored with the conversation. I heard all of this stuff earlier today, why hear it again?

<>

Without them noticing, I trudged up the stairs into my bedroom. I opened the first door to my right and walked into my bedroom. I looked around the light pink room and stopped when I saw my little sister drawing in her sketchbook. She laid on the middle of the carpeted floor, humming a song that I didn't know. She had her own room, and I wasn't sure why she was always in here, but I never minded. "Hey you," I said to her, taking her attention away from drawing. She looked up at me and smiled.

"Hey! How was it?" she asked me excitedly.

I shrugged at her. "Same old same old. Tell me how your day was? How was all the Katie drama?" I asked, quickly changing the subject to her. I knew she could talk about herself and her friends for hours if I just asked her the right questions.

She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, my goodness, it was ridiculous. She told me today that I didn't know what happened at that concert we went to last week. She told the story wrong, and I knew it was wrong because the event happened right beside me. I tried to correct her, and she told me I didn't know what I was talking about," she said then let out a sigh. "I'm so done with being her friend," she gabbed.

I sat down on the floor, too tired to stand any longer, and asked, "then why don't you just leave her?"

She frowned at me as if she didn't like my suggestion. "Because she has no one besides our group of friends. That's not right. Everyone needs friends. But sometimes she's too much."

I couldn't hold back a yawn from my mouth. "Sorry. I don't know how you deal with her. I wouldn't have enough energy to deal with it that's for sure."

She shrugged, then chuckled. "I don't know how I deal with it either."

There was a minute of silence and then I said, "well I'm pretty tired so I'm going to bed."

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll turn off the light for you."

I smiled at her and got up from the floor and climbed up the ladder to my bunk bed.

As I laid in bed for a minute, memories came to me from today. I still had cancer. Nothing was working. I was going to be on a trial drug. Dr. Patel wanted to talk to my mom alone. All these facts only lead to one thing. I was dying. He was getting desperate.

The light turned off, and I heard Farrah say goodnight. She left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving me in the night's darkness.

Tears trickling down my cheeks, but soon they were pouring down. When no one could see me, that was when I cried since I never liked to cry in front of my family. In the dark of the night, in the empty room that smelt like vanilla, I let out my emotions, trying into my pillow until there was nothing more to cry about. I wanted them to see me strong and to do that I couldn't cry in front of them. 

I was running out of options and everyone knew it. They just didn't want to tell me that to my face.