"Okay, Nikki, you'll be in the guest room over here, until your leg heals up and you can make it up the stairs. Okay?" Mom asked me. "It would be hard for you to get up the stairs on that crutch."

I nodded, following her into the main floor guest room, a small room with pale green wallpaper and chintz curtains. Mom had made the bed up with my quilt and brought down my stuffed bear, Baby Berry (it was named that rather unfortunately by Nolan when I first received it, and the name stuck).

Mom turned and faced me. "Will you need anything else, or is that good?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, it's fine."

Mom looked crestfallen. I felt like an ugly, hideous jerk. She was doing her best, and with Nolan sick... "Thanks," I added, although it didn't do much to help.

She smiled, a bit sadly, and hugged me around my crutch. "I love you, sweetheart," she told me, and left.

I went over to the squishy chair and sat down, exhausted from a long day. I'd been discharged from the hospital that morning, and although I was relieved to be out of there- I really hated hospitals- I was tired from all the use of my left leg.

I was allowed to use my left arm; I had only sprained my elbow on that side, and it was healed now. Apparently, when the car had hit me, I flew back and landed on my left elbow, the force of the car breaking my right arm and left leg and a few of my ribs, not to mention some nasty cuts and scrapes and bruises.

Also... I was stuck at home "healing" while my brother was dying in a hospital. Yeah, dying is right. Apparently, while I was getting fixed up at the hospital, Nolan got worse.

Worse.

I don't really know how; Dad came back from visiting Nolan last night and he said that the doctors said that... that he was doing really badly.

They didn't say to say our goodbyes, but...

He was sixteen. My dying brother was sixteen years old. He was so young, and so happy, and he was dying and lying all alone in that hospital room, doing who knew what to pass the time.

I suddenly felt very small and petty for all the times I'd argued with my brother or yelled at him or been a jerk to him. I didn't deserve such a good brother. I didn't deserve such a good friend.

Poor Nolan...

. . .

four • days • later

. . .

Someone knocked on the guest room door. "Come in," I called to them, feeling miserable and stupid for hiding away. That was all I seemed to do for the past week or so.

Z leaned in the doorway. "Hey, Nik, Nolan's friends are here. They wanted to see you."

I blinked at him. "Nolan's... friends...?"

Z nodded.

"They wanna see me," I repeated slowly.

Z nodded again.

"Why?"

Z shrugged. "The one... Caytlin, said that they were going to go visit Nolan at the hospital. Will you go?"

I blinked. "Um. I guess... Are they... here here?"

"Yeah." Z narrowed his eyes at me curiously.

"Okay. Can you go, then? I need to get dressed."

"Sure thing." Z disappeared through the doorway.

I went over to the dresser and pulled out my favorite jeans, the ones that we sadly had to split the side seam on to get them on over my cast. Yanking a sweatshirt with one cut off sleeve on over my head- it just barely fit on over my cast-, I glanced in the mirror over the desk and blinked at my reflection.

A girl with dark bags under her eyes and pale, sallow skin blinked back at me. And- I took a closer look-

When did my hair get so oily? And covered in dandruff... I was a disgusting sight to behold.

Frantically, I parted my hair a different way and combed it tightly back from my face in a braid, trying to disguise its dirtiness.

I guess having big, clumsy casts on your arm and leg really hinders shower-taking. Still, that wasn't an excuse for... uncleanliness. I was disgusted with myself.

Looking around, I realized that I had no makeup, no dry shampoo, nothing to make me look even a little bit presentable.

I peeked out into the hallway, searching. There was only one person who could help me right then.

When I couldn't find her, I pulled back into my room and sent a quick text to her phone, asking her to come to my room as soon as possible.

After three agonizing minutes of waiting and listening to Nolan's friends chat with Mom and Z in the kitchen, my door slowly creaked open to reveal my little sister standing in the doorway, holding a makeup case. The Case of Doom.

She stared blankly at me. "You called?" she asked dryly, without emotion. My little sister hardly ever used that tone; only when she was upset or didn't know what to say. Which was basically never.

I walked over to her, pulling her into the room and closing the door behind her. "Willa, I need your help."

She stared up at me blankly, unspeaking. I noticed shadows under her eyes too, ones almost as dark as mine. Was she staying up, too?

"With... makeup. To cover up my dark spots." I pointed to the skin around my eyes.

Willa sighed, rolling her pale blue eyes. She hefted the makeup case onto the desk and waved me over. "Let's get it over with."

I pretended to ignore her stinging rudeness. "Thanks, Willa. And can we hurry? I don't wanna make them late."

"Of course." She still spoke in that flat, dry tone. It sort of... scared me. Willa was always so happy; she always was smiling and laughing with her friends and dancing around the house.

She pulled out the desk chair roughly and motioned for me to sit. I sat, and she opened the Case of Doom.

She pulled out the "eyelash curlers" -torture devices- and held them in her hand, right in front of my face. I opened my mouth to argue, but Willa cut me off. "All, or nothing," she told me, starting to sound a bit like her old self.

I decided not to argue. She was the one holding the torture device, anyway. I didn't want to lose an eye, and her hand was trembling a little, so I stayed still.

Willa quickly did up my face, covering up the bags under my eyes and making the yellow and blue in my eyes stand out. When she was finished, I was actually surprised to see the girl in the mirror staring back at me.

I was... actually... pretty?

No... it must be just the makeup. I wasn't pretty. I just wasn't that kind of girl. I had other values, like being smart, and things like that. I couldn't be pretty. I didn't want to be pretty. Not with... not with lipstick, and mascara, and blush to make me look nice.

Willa stepped back and admired her handiwork. She grunted at me and went to my dresser, pulling out a little pink sweater, the kind that's all stretchy and one-size-fits-all.

She shoved it at me. "Wear this."

I shook my head, beginning to argue, but Willa gave me a warning look. "Put on the stupid sweater."

"But... it's pink," I whined. "Willa..."

Willa opened my door and left.

I put on the sweater. I had to roll up the sleeve above my cast, but it fit nicely, I supposed.

Finally, I was ready to go see Nolan's friends. My hair couldn't be helped, but at least the braid was nice. I'd done it up in a Dutch braid, the only one I could do on myself.

I walked into the kitchen, leaning on my crutch. I felt like an idiot for dressing up so much. It was just Nolan's friends. Art, Vince, Aaritra, Caytlin, Jack, and Bette.

All of my brother's friends smiled at me, and a few hugged me.

I saw that Bette had red, puffy eyes and recent tears streaking her face. I remembered that she liked Nolan, and felt terrible for her.

Caytlin gave me a one-armed hug and greeted me warmly. I could tell she felt bad about my injuries.

Aaritra hugged me too, her pretty smile shining as brightly as the stars. "Hi, Nikki," she told me.

Art and Vince and Jake hung back awkwardly as Bette gave me a hug.

Once, I caught Vince staring at me. Strange. Did I have food on my face or something? Oh, my sweater must be stained somehow. I'd never worn it for a reason, I guessed.

Although... something about his smile made my heart do a strange flipping thing and my stomach felt like it had moths swarming around in it. Luna Moths, maybe. It was unsettling. But, also, in a way, a bit nice.

Just a bit.

"Are we ready?" Art asked. He held up his car keys. "I brought my mom's van. It's in the driveway."

Everyone nodded solemnly and we followed him out onto the driveway.

When Caytlin saw the van, she snorted. "Nice wheels, Vance," she told Art.

Art grinned, ignoring her sarcasm. "She's a beaut."

The van was not a "beaut". It was old and with a peeling paint job. Bumper stickers were plastered on the back windshield, nearly covering it.

I crawled into the very backseat, taking up two seats to stretch out my leg. Aaritra climbed in beside me.

Everyone else piled in, and Vince and Jack sat in the trunk of the car, peeking over the backs of the seats at us.

"I propose a word association game!" Vince cried. Nobody listened.

"It's not safe for you two to sit back there," I said, half jokingly. "If Art gets pulled over for his bad driving, he'll get a ticket for you guys."

"A ticket?" Jack asked. "How fun! What to?"

Vince elbowed Jack. "A ticket to the nuthouse, Pearson. Lemme have the stub, okay? I wanna start a new page in my scrapbook." Both of them started laughing uproariously.

Aaritra reached back and smacked both the boys on the head lightly. "You guys are going to make Arthur wreck, you know." But she was smiling her pretty smile, which the boys returned with twinkling eyes and more laughter.

Bette yelled back from the front seat, saying, "You guys are all going to the nuthouse is you don't shut up! Except for you, Nikki. We're going to see Nolan. So calm down!" Normally, no one would've listened to her- we were having too much fun- but the shaky edge to Bette's voice made us all shut up. And... Nolan.

The rest of the ride to the hospital was silent, and when we got there, we entered the building and asked to see Nolan at the front desk.

We waited for a few minutes, and then were given directions to his room.

When we arrived, Bette ran into Nolan's room, tears streaking her cheeks, and we all waited in the hallway, trying our best not to overhear what they were saying in there.

Several minutes later, Bette came back out and said, "Everyone should go in two at a time, so you don't overwhelm him." She pretended not to be crying.

I wondered what they'd said to each other.

Aaritra and Caytlin went in next, and when they came back out, Aaritra was crying and leaning against Caytlin's shoulder. Caytlin just stared forward, unseeing.

I went in next, and Vince followed, along with Jack, who obviously didn't want to go in alone.

Nolan was lying in bed, propped up with pillows, looking weak and small, but still managing to look like my brother, with color in his cheeks and his glasses perched on his nose. His hair was brushed and he was smiling at us.

"Nikki!" He held out his arms, and even though we weren't even the hugging type of siblings, I ran into them anyway.

Vince walked over too, mussing up Nolan's hair. "I see how it is," he said, his brown eyes twinkling. "Already forgotten me?"

Nolan fixed his hair as I pulled away. "Nice to see you all." His eyes gleamed. "Thanks for visiting."

Jack hung back. He looked... scared, somehow.

Nolan spotted him and smiled. "Pearson, hey!"

Jack smiled, but it was a frightened smile, his eyes wide. "I, uh..." then he raced forward and gave Nolan a big bear hug. When he pulled away, I could see tears in the corners of his eyes, and he said goodbye to Nolan, hurrying out of the room.

I grinned at Nolan. "Well, uh, Mom said she and Dad are gonna visit you later, so..."

"Yeah," Nolan said.

We talked together, Nolan, Vince, and I, for probably a quarter of an hour, just talking about life. It was perfect.

I said goodbye to Nolan, giving him a huge hug. "Bye, bro," I told him.

"Bye, Nickers." He smiled at me. After I was nearly out of the door, I heard him say quietly to Vince, "Take care of her, okay? She's my sister, if you didn't know. Take care of all these kids, Vince."

"Shut up, Nol," Vince said, his gaze light on his friend. But his tone spoke otherwise. "You don't need me to do that. Tell Art that. You're gonna be fine, anyway." But his tone was light.

My face bright red, I left the room, trying to pretend that I hadn't overheard. Take care of me, I scoffed in my head. I didn't need that.

But the way Nolan had said that...

I stood in the hallway next to Bette. I put my arm around her and she leaned on me, looking very weary and tired. I was taller than her, even though she was two years older. Bette was short, with caramel colored hair and ruby brown almond shaped eyes. She had a dimple in her chin, too, and had a really nice, pretty smile. I could see why Nolan liked her. It had to really, really suck for them both, his illness.

On the way back, I sat in the backseat again, but Art made Vince and Jack sit in normal seats, as opposed to the trunk, so everyone was able to ride legally.

The ride home was quiet, with everyone pretending not to hear Bette crying softly in the front seat. Art dropped me off first, and everyone got out to let me out since I was in the very back and say bye.

I hugged Jack, remembering his tears in Nolan's hospital room. He hugged me back, seeming to know what I wanted to say to him. "Thanks, Nikki," he said quietly, and got back in Art's mom's van.

I hugged Aaritra and Bette too, and then shook hands awkwardly with Vince, exchanging a red faced smile and trying not to remember what I had overheard in the hospital room, and then hugged Caytlin, who barely returned it. She seemed stunned after seeing Nolan, like she couldn't believe that he was sick. I could barely either, to tell the truth.

It was like... like having a terrible dream that you're scared to wake up from because you don't know if it's fake. And... you don't wake up. And every now and then, the reality crashes down and crushes you... and it feels so scary and sad.

And real.

Achingly, painfully real.