Rain, everywhere was rain. It was pounding on the hood and the windshield of my car, blinding me from the two lane road that was now deathly slick. "Calm down Edward, just pull over and wait for the rain to pass," I said aloud, trying to keep me focused on not driving off the invisible road. Just as I was pulling over, off the deadly road, an out-of-control car came straight for me. I tried to get out of the way, but it was no use. I was frozen; eyes close, and muscles tense, waiting for the impact, but it never came.

"BEEP! BEEP!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!!!"

I rolled over and slammed down on my alarm clock. I reached up for the triangular shaped bar that hung from my ceiling over my bed. I used this bar to pull myself up into a sitting position. I looked outside and it was raining, triggering the dream I had the night before, it was all too real. I shuttered and noticed my wheelchair was not beside my bed where it belonged. "EMMET!"

"Yes Edward?" said Emmer using his I-didn't-do-it-but-I'm-lying-and-really-did-it voice.

"Please come into my room." Instead of the heavy footsteps Emmet's feet normally make, I could hear the sound of squeaking wheels as Emmet rolled in on my wheelchair.

"Yes Edward?" Emmet asked with a serious face like a business man makes right as he is ripping somebody off.

"I need my chair back."

"You mean this old thing? I have had it since my best friend drove a four-wheeler into a haystack and paralyzed me." He was referring to the time about ten years ago. We where at his grandpa's farm driving four-wheelers and Emmet let me have a turn. Too bad I ran straight into a haystack, throwing Emmet of the back. He ended up with a broken leg, and all I had was a sprained wrist. The point is I could still walk. I know his jokes are meant to make me laugh, but how am I supposed to laugh when I am being reminded of driving four-wheelers with my best friend Emmet?

"Emmet, I'm not in the mood today, can I please have my chair back?" For some reason I can never say wheelchair. Wheelchairs are for paralyzed people, and chairs are what normal people sit in. Yes, my diagnosis is paralyzed from the waist down, but I wasn't always like that, so for now I'm a normal person with a chair on wheels.

"Same dream?" Emmet obviously caught the tone in my voice when I wanted my chair back. At times Emmet can say the wrong things, but this was one of those times when he said exactly the right thing.

"Yah, except this time the car didn't crash into me, I was just waiting, you know?"

"Nope, I don't. Is it like when you break up with a girl and you're waiting for her to slap you or explode, but instead she kisses you?"

"Kind of, but this time there was no kiss, only two bum legs." I looked down as I said this and slapped my legs as hard as I could. I was expecting to feel pain, or something, but nothing came.

Emmet didn't know what to say when I did this. He was still getting use to me being paralyzed; it had only been eight months. Instead of cracking a joke or saying much at all, he rolled me my chair and said he was going to get something to eat. I didn't understand this because he had his own fridge at home, but I guess I did owe him, weather he will admit it or not. See, every morning Emmet drives over to my house, picks me up and takes me to school. I haven't learned how to drive with hand controls yet and probably never will. Driving just isn't my thing. I looked at my clock and saw I had approximately thirty minutes before Emmet threatened to leave me. I know he never would, but we have to stop and pick up Rosalie, Emmet's steady girlfriend. So I grabbed my makeshift triangle and swung my legs over the bed. Then one by one I lifted them into my chair and slowly slid into the metal char. I stared to push myself towards the closet.

'Hmmm… What to wear? What to wear?' I thought to myself. I grabbed a pair of light blue jeans with a hole in one knee and rolled them to my bed. I stared back towards my closed to look for a shirt. I decided on a fitted black tee-shirt. I tried to reach it, but had not luck. I hate to ask for help, but I already needed help putting on my pants, so I called my mom. Emmet showed up in the door to my closet.

"Your mom left a note on the fridge saying she went shopping and that your dad would be at the hospital early this morning. She said I could help you with what you needed. So, what do you need?" Oh great! I mean I can ask him to get my shirt, but to put on my pants?

"Can you please hand me that black tee-shirt?"

"Going emo I see," he said wile taking it off the hanger and tossing it to me, "anything else?" I can't go to school in my sweats, and he is my best friend…

"Well…" Emmet started jumping up and down and shot his hand up in the air like a first grader volunteering to be line-leader.

"Oh, Oh pick me! Pick ME! I want to help. PLEASE!!!" Okay here it goes.

"Pants," I said in a whisper.

"What?"

"My pants," I said again.

"Well, I'm not a girl, but I think these pants will bring out the green highlights in your eyes. Plus they hug your thighs just right-"

"Emmet STOP! I already have pants on my bed."

"Oh, than what do you want me to-" I saw him turn red and cough a few times. He obviously understood what I wanted him to do know. "You need me to help you put your pants on?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I only have one question."

"Shoot."

"Do you sleep with underwear on at night?"

"Of course, how do you think my mom would feel when she put my pants on?" He thought for a moment and then burst out laughing. That was not the first time I chose not to ask what was on Emmet's mind.

"So where do we start?" he asked after we rolled over to my bed.

"Do you mind lifting my up for just a second?" Emmet didn't even answer before lifting me up. While I was free from sitting on my sweats, I was able to slip them down to my knees. "Alright, you can put me down now." Emmet did just as he was told. I was much relived when he turned around giving me privacy to take them all the way off. After I was done I asked for my pants and pulled them up to my knees. "Emmet, do you mind?"

"Not at all," he said as he lifted me once again. As I finish with my pants he asked, "What's it like depending on other people?"

"It's kind of like I barrowed their I-pod and erased all their songs."

"Oh," was all he said. After I put my emo shirt on, brushed my teeth, and put some gel in my hair I was ready.

"Come on, lets go get Rosalie."