"OLIVER, YOU'RE —hey! Do you not see the front door in front of you?!"

One of the biggest mistakes of my life was letting Oliver push my wheelchair. Technically, I was able to push it by myself by rolling down the wheels, but Dr. Grey insisted that I needed help to adjust first.

Ollie was the first one to volunteer, of course, and being the good "friend" I was, I didn't call out any arguments. (Clearly, I was stupid.) However, since he couldn't possibly stay over in the hospital for the remaining few days before, that job belonged to Mom. 

But now I was here, in front of my house's doorsteps. I had just returned, and some of the Grants — Oliver, Tom and Jessie — heard the news and went over to help me.

They were all casting me these small smiles. Was that meant to be supportive or insulting? They kept staring at me — or was it the wheelchair? Oh, God. I should stop overthinking. I shrunk back awkwardly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by their little examination.

Then I noticed the way Jessie and Tom were looking at me. Something was quite different about their smiles — the familiar friendliness (yes, Tom was capable of that) was concealed by something else. I couldn't figure it out, but there was just something else that told me their smiles wasn't one-hundred percent the truth.

I didn't think about it further, though, when Oliver began pushing my wheelchair. 

"Sorry, Woods," he muttered. "You're a lot. . . uh. . ."

Slowly, I turned my head towards him. "A lot what?"

"A lot. . . fleshy than I expected."

I stared. "Did you just call me fat?"

"I said fleshy!"

"Same thing," Jessie sang.

I raised my eyebrows, challenging Oliver. He gave out a frustrated groan and turned to Tom, who was back to his usual habits of phone-dependency. "Tommy! Help me out here!"

Tom looked between me, Jessie, then finally at his brother. "Against those two? No thanks."

Jessie and I gave each other gleeful high-fives, resulting in Oliver abruptly pushing me forward and almost knocking me down. Instead of getting annoyed, I laughed — happy at his own irritation.

Once we were all inside, the living room was ours. Oliver and Tom — like the gentlemen they were — instantly flopped on the sofa. Jessie flashed them a look while she and Mom helped haul me up and placed me next to them down on the sofa.

"Gee, thanks for the help, boys," Jessie mumbled, sitting beside me.

Somehow, Oliver heard it. "You're welcome."

It was then I realised that our sofa could fit four people. Huh. Who knew?

Mom came back to the living room and to my surprise, with a giant, blueberry cream cake with, literally, cherry on top. But my eyebrows scrunched up. A cake?

"What in — " Then it hit me.

She only made me blueberry-flavored food when it was. . .

Oh, no.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Oliver, Tom, Jessie and Mom — along with Mr. and Mrs. Grant, Raph and Jake, who came out of nowhere — jumped up and basically gave me a heart attack.

How could I have forgotten that today was my damn birthday?!

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Emily. . . happy birthday to you!"

Looking around, it was getting kind of claustrophobic. Sure, everywhere around me were smiles, claps, grins — things you'd expect in a normal birthday celebration. But I wasn't used to all these people celebrating with me. It actually kind of felt nice.

But it stayed normal only for a little while.

"Make a wish, Woods," Oliver announced when everyone began to settle down. I turned and saw him grinning at me — I might be wrong, but I think it was the happiest that I've seen him. The gleam in his eyes and the genuineness of his smile was enough to make me feel uncomfortable, though, and I looked away.

The four party crashers joined us, sitting on the carpet with Mom. They created a circle around the base of the couch, in which I was the middle.

I stared back at the blue, purple-ish cake and the lit candles that were placed neatly.

I wish Mom would stay happy forever.

I wish the Grants would continue living their life with that irreplaceable carefreeness.

And I wish I would die a quick, painless death.

I blew the candles.

Claps and whistles erupted in the room.

"Can't believe you're eighteen," Oliver whined. "You're not allowed to be older than me!"

I grinned. "Sucks to be you, Joseph."

Later on, I had cut the first piece of the cake, but was stopped by the others when I began cutting another one to pass. They thought that, since it was my birthday, I should have the first taste.

It had tasted like heaven. The sweet softness of the texture, the blueberry flavour of the content, the refreshing minty feel of the whip cream.

Then It happened.

The first minute I was chewing, then the next it was already on the back of my throat. I coughed and coughed, wanting the food to either go in or go out. It wouldn't budge. The pain was so much that I could feel tears burning my eyes.

The smiles on Mom and the Grants' faces vanished like the wind and they started to panic. They all rushed to me and things happened all at — 

Suddenly I feel someone's arms wrapped around my waist, and before I could process what was about to happen, they pushed their hands against my stomach — hard. This went on and on until finally, the squashed piece of blueberry cake flew out of my mouth. It landed on Jake's shoulder.

"Aw, gross!" He cried as he patted the spot of where the cake was. Well, "patted" was not the right word to describe it. More like smacking himself. Repeatedly.

Slowly, I breathed in and out. Getting the piece out didn't mean I'd already calmed down. My throat still hurt, and even though Jessie was soothing my back, it wasn't helping my case. She must've been the one who helped me.

"You. . . you okay?" she asks hesitantly.

I wiped the tears that were blurring my vision and glanced at the people around me. All of them were gaping, casting me looks of concern — I didn't want to look back at them but it was hard due to the fact that I was surrounded.

Déjà vu, much? I thought as I remembered the first dinner.

When I peered beside me, I sucked in a breath. I couldn't even begin to describe Oliver's face. He wasn't just worried, but he was. . . shaking. Terrified.

And that made me terrified.

________

N O V E M B E R  3 ,  2 0 1 0

Bad news. It's probably what you expected: I can't walk.

And that's not even the only part. You remember my birthday, right? It was around two weeks ago. I don't expect you to send me a birthday card or host a party or anything. I get it.

Anyway, I choked. When I ate my BIRTHDAY CAKE. Pretty depressing. 

When I told Dr. Grey, he said, "my throat is in trouble." Gee, I didn't know! Seriously, one thing I don't like about him is that he sugarcoats things. I mean, I'm not eleven years old anymore! I can handle it. And even YOU didn't hold back when I was that young.

And so I'm thinking. . . if the ability to swallow is as tough as it is. . . how am I going to keep my body healthy when I can't even eat or drink properly?

My brain is going crazy.

________

Over the past few weeks, Mom and I made a couple of agreements: 

1) I would take my medication, or whatever it was that I needed now. 

2) I would use the Talk Phone (or the AAC device that's suppose to help me talk) if I needed to. 

3) Jessie, Jake and Raph would watch over me while Mom was out for the day. They didn't have anything to do, anyway, and they needed the extra money.

Great. Now my high school teachers were my babysitters, too.

Mom informed the school about my homeschooling. As predicted, Val texted me and it left my phone in a frenzy:

Valerie: Em! Heard bout everything. God, what happened?? Rachel said you broke your LEG? Are you ok??

Valerie: And then I find out from Devon - DEVON FREAKING TREVINO - that you're homeschooled now? What's up with that???

Valerie: Why didn't you tell me?

Valerie: Eeeemmmmmiiiillllyyy

Valerie: You're not getting away with this, Emilia Marie Woods. I'll find you.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. What would I say to her? That I'd had a disease for ten months and she didn't even know, plus it was still going on until it would kill me? Fat chance.

Emily: Hey, Val. I didn't break my leg. I have this condition. It's nothing severe. I just have to use a wheelchair, don't know until when. And yes, I'm homeschooled now. Doctor says it's better for me, so does Mom.

Her reply was quicker than I'd expected: 

Valerie: A condition? What kind of condition forces the legs to lose their ability to walk? And even if it's temporary, it's still something I've never heard of...?

I flinched inside. I knew she was too smart and observant for her own good. Or was she being naturally curious? The other Grants besides Oliver didn't ask me too many questions. Maybe they were being nice?

Emily: Look, I don't know. Ask my doctor. Anyways, gtg. See you.

Valerie: Fine. See you :) Keep in touch. 

I think we all know that's not going to happen.

I feel so sorry for Val! I would never treat my best friend like that, but Emily's quite a complicated character. 

Anyway, what did you feel about Emily's little incident on the birthday cake? That was really sad tbh. Not depression-sad but sorry-sad. She's celebrating her birthday, man.

But many symptoms are to come.