Chapter 1

After school and after receiving what seems to be another F, my mom called me and told me she had something important to talk to me about and it would change life as we know it for me. Like that could happen.

Don't get me wrong. I....love my mom and...dad but they just don't seem to get my life. Why I suddenly bailed on school, ran away for a week and came back receiving horrible grades but that's the way things are supposed to be. From now until forever.

Whatever she has planned cannot be good unless it's a razor blade with sharp ends, she better be killing me herself.

What is the point of living anymore? It's like everything I work up to can get torn down in a matter of years, just like that. It all starts with one simple word the year before.

Cancer.

It seems irrational to be so afraid of that word but it has done nothing except caused pain and failure.

I wasn't aloud to drive a car anymore even though I was seventeen only because I tried to get into a car crash when they agreed to let me drive on my own.

Parents.

I took the bus home instead and when I walked in my mom was all giddy and my dad smiled his crinkly smile at me and I tried to smile back.

Renee, my mom, pulled me to the couch and Charlie, my dad, sat next to her on the coffee table.

"How was school?" She asked with a hopeful smile.

"I received one F and got hit in the head with a basket ball. My lip began to bleed." I explained in a monotone, one tone voice.

"An F in what?"

"English."

"Honey, what happened? Yesterday you got an F in both math and biology. Sweetheart, don't you want to talk about." Charlie pressed.

"No." I urged.

"Well, you don't have to but we have a surprise this evening that will sure cheer you up." She smiled, getting up and skipping to the kitchen to make dinner.

Renee was a mom to me, but sometimes she seems like she is a kindergartner herself, rather than a teacher for them.

Charlie grumbled something to himself and got up groggily and joined my mom in the kitchen.

I was about to stalk upstairs when I could here their faint talk in their kitchen. About me.

"Why are we going to do with her?" My mom sobbed.

"I'm not sure."

"It's been a whole four months. This is the only solution I can think of. Do you think it's good?"

"We can only hope." Charlie sighed. "We can only hope."

I fought back the urge to cry like always and slowly ran upstairs to my room.

I had gotten good and blocking out emotions since about four months ago. Now I never cried, never smiled, got angry or joyful. I didn't even know what the word emotion meant. I was a monotone mute human being.

At seven thirty, my mom called me down for dinner and my head felt dizzy, trying to fight against the fish she had sitting on the kitchen table. I hated fish and they both knew that yet continued to make it. If you asked me why, I couldn't answer.

I stumbled down the stairs and stalked into the kitchen when I saw there was a tall, bronze haired boy, green eyed senior standing in the middle of the kitchen, talking to my mom in a light conversational tone. A tone I had forgotten how to use.

"Bella," my mom smiled. "Won't you come sit and meet someone?"

I didn't nod my head, but just sat down at my seat, the chair against the wall.

Charlie sat down on the left of me, my mother on the right. And the green eyed senior sat across from me, smiling friendly. All I could do was look down and the horrific smelling fish and swallowed loudly. I refuse to eat that.

"Who is he?" I asked, finally looking at the familiar stranger across from me.

"This is Edward. He goes to your school and is a straight A student majoring in science, English and Math. All your core subjects that you seem to fail miserably at."

"Thanks for the support Mom." I turn slowly to look at her. Not glaring, not grimacing, just simply staring straight.

"Yes, well, we called your school and Ms. Cope here, your lovely secretary recommended Edward to help you, catch up. Help you with your work and things like that." She smiled.

My eyes should have widened. "Like a...t-t-tutor?" I asked carefully.

"Well, yes, kinda." My dad smiled nervously.

"No." I said, my monotone voice flat. "NO!" I then yelled rushing me up to my bedroom in one, swift movement.

I lied on my bed, resiting the urge to cry and it worked. My voice hurt from screamed so loudly like there was a sudden itch in my throat but I finally calmed myself, lied on my back and stared up at the ceiling.

In the darkness my room offered, blinds closes, lights off. I could see the one small star I had stuck on top of my bed when...she bought me this box filled with glow in the dark stars that were meant to be stuck onto walls and ceilings. I had originally put them all up but when the renovators came in to paint my walls black, I had to take them all down but forgot that very one star right on top of my bed.

Every night I used to make a wish on it and to this day I still do.

Does that mean there is still hope left for me?

Some people could only desire.