Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, and yet dizzyingly fast all at once. My eyes flickered to all different parts of the hospital room; the white walls with pink, red, and yellow roses lining the tops, my fingernails covered in chipped blue paint, the gleaming tiled floor. I heard the whispers between my mother and Doctor Solomon. ("There has to be some sort of mistake; she was in remission." "Partial remission, Ms. Chase. There was no definite chance that the cancer was completely gone.") By this point in my sixteen years of life, I had become used to this. The whispers, the pitying looks, the "we will fight this" repeated over and over.
But I was sick of fighting. I was tired, and depressed, and my life was so routine and boring and bland. I had had cancer since I was eight, and ever since my parents (my mother more so than my father) had been so overprotective and overbearing. I had only a handful of friends. I barely left my house, save for hospital visits, therapy sessions, school, and the occasional trip to the book or record store. I only ever hung out with my two best friends, Scott and Stiles, and maybe Lydia if it was a good day.
As I sat on the uncomfortable hospital bed, waiting for my mom and my doctor to reenter the room, I mulled over the information I was just given; "The cancer has spread to your lungs, Spencer. We're sorry. We're doing everything we can." So that was why I was coughing up blood, and having severe pains in my chest. I first thought they were side effects of the anti-depressants that I was on, but sadly, no. Just another "fuck you" from whatever higher power there was.
Surely, I was being punished for something I must have done in a past life. Whatever I did, the thought didn't ease the pounding in my head or the shivering of my body. Nurse McCall walked in, quietly shutting the door behind her. Without a word, she stepped close to me and clasped my hands in each of hers. She said nothing, nor did she give me a pathetic look. No, she just gave me the comfort that needed.
Ms. McCall was very nice; she and my mother had become quite close ever since I was diagnosed, and they easily bonded over their divorces. It was odd, really, seeing two grown women actually joke about their failed marriages. It beats talking about my cancer, I suppose. Her son, Scott, was one of my best friends, after I met him on one of his visits to see Melissa for her lunch break. He's a sweetheart, really. A little odd, but we live in Beacon Hills, so it makes a bit of sense. Stiles was an even bigger sweetheart, one that I've known since I was young. His dad was always there when my family needed it, and boy Stiles and Scott were my support system along with my mom.
Melissa ran her hand through my short, dirty blonde hair. "Are you going to cut it, you think?" She asked. I had decided that cutting my hair before taking chemo or radiation was better than having it fall out a little at a time. I only nodded, not finding it in me to speak. My mother and Doctor Solomon come in at this time, and my mom's eyes are red, but she smiled at me any way. I figure I'd get to the point. "I guess I'll contact the school and work out a plan on how I'll get my work done. I don't have to stay the night here tonight, right?" My words were quick, and all three adults look stare at me. They really should have been used to my coping mechanisms by then; hold it all in until I'm alone. I refused to let my emotions show.
It was my battle, the doctors and nurses were my soldiers. I would fight this, with no one seeing me break, because that wouldn't change the fact that I was dying. It's morbid, really, but it was all I had to keep me going. My psychiatrist said that this wasn't healthy, but I wasn't healthy, so to hell with any other way. My mom's eyes glazed over slightly, yet it didn't phase me, not really. This seemed selfish, but she was acting like we hadn't gone through it before.
"Nope, no moving in until the weekend. Doctor Solomon and I figured it wouldn't hurt for you to finish up this school week and then come in on Saturday morning. That should give us enough time to work something out with your teachers and for your father to head down here." My mom's last few words were spat out with disdain. She truly disliked my father; I couldn't blame her, seeing as he cheated on her and abandoned us for two years. He only got his shit together because I was diagnosed, but he still lived four hours away in Northern California, so he wasn't trying as hard.
The drive back to our home was filled with comfortable silence and 70s Rock 'n' Roll playing softly. My mother and I didn't speak, but it wasn't out of tension nor awkwardness. We just didn't have anything to say. We pulled up in front of our two-story brick house, a black metal fence, bright green grass, and purple gardenias staring back at us. My mother turned to me, so I looked up at her aging face. She was still so beautiful, even at forty-six, and even after all of the shit she's been through.
"Spencer," she started, her words holding something that I couldn't exactly place my finger on, "I know you're so sick of hearing this, of going through this, but I need you to know that you can fight this, baby. You have me, and your dad, and the doctors. Everything will work out, I'm sure of it." Yes, I was sick of hearing it, but that didn't mean I didn't appreciate it. "I know mom; I'm not worried. I think this'll be a piece of cake." I replyed, squeezing her hand before stepping out of her Volvo.
I went to bed that night without eating, mainly because I didn't want to get sick in the middle of the night and be tired for school. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I would have to let my friends and teachers know why I wasn't going to be in school for a while. I knew I would have to mentally prepare myself.
Wednesday morning came with blaring sunlight and chirping birds, and perfect representation of how I wasn't feeling. My body was sore, my cheeks were sticky, and both my throat and eyes were sore. I did, in fact, vomit during the night, despite my feeble attempts of keeping my stomach empty. I cried myself to sleep, something I was fairly used to, with the whole "hiding my emotions" thing I had going on.
It was six a.m., which gave me the perfect amount of time to stand under the scalding hot water in the shower, get dressed, and still have time to get to school. By the time I was done, with my body clad in plain denim jeans, a very large wool sweater, a beanie, and my Converse, it was seven. My mom was at the kitchen table, reading the paper and drinking coffee in her sweatpants. She looked up when she heard me enter, and I attempted to give her a smile. It was obviously not convincing, as she frowned in return.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to Spence; I could just go in and talk to your principle myself. It wouldn't be a problem." She was such a good mom that I almost started tearing up, but I just shook my head. "I'll be fine, ma. I can't hide away forever." We both smiled this time, and she stood up to grab her purse and car keys and I my school bag and a water bottle. As we walked out the front door and into the cool morning air, I sighed. Let the day begin.
The Beacon Hills High School parking lot was, as usual, crowded bustling with activity. It was to be expected, seeing as it was a gorgeous out. I didn't feel as energetic as my fellow students, however, and my mom obviously noticed. Again, no words were spoken between us, she only kissed my forehead before I opened the car door. I no longer received as many stares as I used to when I first entered high school. People were used to me by now: Spencer Chase, the girl with cancer. It wasn't that difficult to comprehend.
As I entered the building and walked towards my locker, I saw both Scott and his best friend Stiles whispering something at Scott's locker. They were an odd pair, but I couldn't see them being best friends with anyone else. They noticed me approaching them, Stiles swatting Scott's arm before turning and smiling at me. But, as he took in my under eye circles that were darker than normal, his smile became a frown and his brow creased. Scott noticed too, although his eyes kept glancing at something or someone on his right. I ignored his weirdness.
"Hey, boys, keeping more secrets, huh?" I said playfully as I opened my locker and took out my History text book. They shared a nervous look but it was gone as soon as it came. "Ha, yeah, uh, hey Spence. What's up with you? You look like you didn't get a wink of sleep?" Stiles stuttered out. I sighed. Most would think that telling them so soon would be heartless, but there was no other time than now.
"That's because I didn't, Stiles. I had a doctor's appointment yesterday, and it seems that, after this school week, I'll be staying at the hospital for a bit." I said it so casually you'd think I was talking about the weather. Both boys immediately became worried, throwing out question after question and crowding me against my locker. "What the hell, dude? Why? What's wrong? Does it have something to do with you coughing up blood?" Scott asked, his hand running though his dark, curly hair. We still had about ten minutes until the bell rang, which I was grateful for.
"Um, that's the thing. Apparently, the cancer, kind of, spreadtomylungs." I said the last part quickly, but the two weren't as slow as I thought because their eyes widened. "The fuck!? Are you serious? Just when I thought life couldn't get any more fucked up." Stiles shrieked, earning strange looks from passersby. "Yeah, it sucks, I guess, but I'm not worried. My mom's coming in during lunch to set up a system so I can get my work. I don't really want to fail school just because my body's failing." Trying to joke about something this serious is also another one of my coping methods, obviously. Scott and Stiles frowned before their attention was turned away from me. A pretty brunette girl was being dragged down the hall by Lydia Martin, resident popular girl at BHH. Stiles worshipped the ground she walked on, whilst also despising her boyfriend and lacrosse captain, Jackson Whittemore. Scott disliked both of them, but for different reasons. He was simply jealous of the muscular jock, but mainly kept his resentment between our group.
Scotty's focus was on the brunette, his eyes popping out of his head. I merely rolled my eyes at this, not able to contain my smile. I was also somewhat friends with Lydia and Jackson's best friend, Danny, so I figured I'd break the news to them, too. Lydia was not what everyone played her out to be; she was highly intelligent, and never failed to help me with my school work when I was falling behind because of the cancer. Danny was a complete and utter sweetheart. He was kind, funny, and level-headed. Jackson and I weren't exactly friends, but I believed he had soft spot for me. Whether it was because I was terminally or simply because I didn't judge him when I first met him, who knows. All I did know was that I needed to inform them of my news.
I stood up from the bench the boys and I were sitting on and walked over to the group of four, as Danny met up with them. "Hey, guys, how's it going?" I asked, leaning against a locker. The brown hair girl smiled at me, a dimple popping out of her cheek. Damn, I could definitely see why Scott couldn't take his eyes off of her. "Hey, Spencer. Everything's great. I finally got that essay finished." Danny answered, smiling so big that his eyes squinted. Lydia took ahold of my arm. "Oh, Allison, this is Spencer, a friend of ours. Spencer, this is Allison, she just moved here." Lydia's was using her "I'm very important, bow down to me," voice, the one that I was immune to, but I resisted rolling my eyes. "Hello, Allison. It's nice to meet you." I smiled as wide as I could, seeing as I was exhausted and anxious. Allison didn't seem to notice as she shook my outstretched hand, but the other three certainly did.
"Hey, Al, why don't you head to the main office to get your schedule? We'll meet you there as soon as we can." Lydia's words held a sweet yet authoritative tone, and Allison nodded before smiling nervously and shuffling away. The red head turned back to me. "All right, spill." Was all she said. Danny was looking at me, concerned, while Jackson pretended to be disinterested. I didn't hesitate, knowing how Lydia could get. "The cancer spread to my lungs. I'll be staying in the hospital for who knows how long starting Saturday." My voice didn't shake, something I had learned to control at a young age. The three popular kids had similar reactions to Stiles and Scott. "What?! Really? How long have you known?" Danny always rambled when he was nervous, which he was now. Jackson wasn't pretending to not care anymore; I had his undivided attention. His eyes were worried, along with Lydia's, who had grasped my arm again.
"The test results just came in yesterday, but I've been puking and coughing up blood for quite some time. I've also had some trouble breathing. I thought it was just symptoms of my meds, but I guess not." Lydia hugged me as I spoke, and when I looked over her shoulder, I saw Scott and Stiles were both looking over in interest. "Listen, I've got to get back to my dorks. I'll sit with you guys at lunch and we'll talk then."
Scott and Stiles were, for some odd reason, keeping secrets from me. It had been about a week since I first arrived at the hospital, and every time they came to visit, they had been very twitchy and weird – well, weirder than normal. The room was filled with awkward tension, so I figured I'd speak. "Okay, what is up with you two? You've been really quiet lately, which is saying a lot." The two shared a look before Scott stood up to close the door.
My mom was busy filling out paper work with my dad, giving me some time with Scott and Stiles. She had been with me constantly, so it was good to have a break from her. "We've been thinking about telling you for a while, and we didn't know how to tell you without you not believing us or freaking out. So, um….Well, uh…" Stiles was stalling, of course. "Just spit it out, man!" "Scott's a werewolf!" Stiles yelled out, immediately covering his mouth with his hands. "Stiles, man, you can't just blurt things like that out!" Scott whined.
My eyebrows rose. "Pardon?" I asked, a giggle escaping my lips. "Have you guys been sneaking my happy pills?" I smirked, but both held serious expressions. "We're serious, Spencer. The weekend before you told s that the cancer spread, Scott and I were searching for the other half of the body that the police had heard about in the woods. He was bit when we were searching for his inhaler and I got caught by my dad. We also believe that Derek Hale is the killer." I was so used to Stiles' fast talking that I was able to comprehend his jumbled words.
"Woah, okay. For some reason, I can believe the whole "werewolf" thing, but Derek Hale? C'mon guys, really?" I snorted, sinking back into the bed. "Yeah, really, 'cause the next day, we went back to search for Scott's inhaler and Derek was there, in the woods. Who the hell wanders alone in the woods?" I shot him a look. "Aye, not the point. The point is, we're going to be keeping an eye on him." I shook my head, but smiled at them anyways.
"So, what's it like? Being at wolf and all?" I asked Scott excitedly. They have never lied to me in the past, and with Beacon Hills being a sort of magnet for all thing odd, I couldn't not believe it a bit. "It's so sick; I have heightened senses, I'm super strong and fast. Everything abut me is so enhanced." We went of for hours about the research they did and what they'd learned, seeing as I was out of the loop for so long. The left when my mom came back in the room along with a nurse carrying a tray of food.
I went to bed that night feeling slightly uneasy, like something was going to happen. Whether it was good or bad, I didn't know.