Wanna Bet?

by EJSchwartz

Josie is a perfectionist when it come to, well, everything. She doesn't have the time to even acknowledge the gorgeous, hunky, Owen Micheals, because she's too busy studying for her SAT's. WHen Josie find out her constantly sore leg is Osteosarcoma, bone cancer, she's forced to deal with being out of control. It might make her abandoned her old self completely.

Schwartz / Wanna Bet? / 67

Elizabeth J. Schwartz Word Count: 21,000

59 Rambling Drive

Scotch Plains, NJ 07076

(908)447-3802

gymgal1996

Wanna Bet?

by E.J. Schwartz

PROLOGUE

"You have cancer."

You have cancer. You have cancer. You have cancer. That's what I took from the doctor's explanation. He rambled on, pointing to things, using big words that were probably on my SAT-vocab sheet, but it didn't matter, because I had cancer. It couldn't be true though. Cancer? I was sixteen for crying out loud. My whole life was ahead of me. How could I have cancer?

Somewhere an image flashed up on a screen and a x-ray picture of my shin bone was propped up in front of me. I could vaguely hear my mother crying as the nurses in the room soothed her with promising words. Two black dots lay at the top of my shin, near my knee. They must have been tumors because when the doctor pointed to them, my mom's sobs grew louder.

Osteosarcoma. That's what they said I had. It was sucky to have cancer, but to get one I couldn't even pronounce? Now that really sucked. Apparently seventy percent of people with it survived, which seemed like pretty good odds, until I thought of the thirty percent that had to die for that statement to be correct. I knew my own luck and I was definitely going to be part of the thirty. Man, I was really going to die a virgin? Ugh. I would never get to have kids or go to college or see what the new iphone looked like, let alone get one!

Random words were thrown around; Periosteal, remission, surgery, chemotherapy. They meant nothing to me and neither did any of the numbers.

Did anyone really care about those facts initially though? Because I didn't. The only thing I could really hear were the three words replaying over and over in my mind. The same ones that would change my life forever.

You have can cancer. You have cancer. You have cancer.

CHAPTER ONE: Three months earlier

"Tell me you're not excited?!" Sara screeched, looping a pink polka-dot sleeved arm through mine.

"It's junior year, S. Not much to be excited about." School work, SAT's, college visits. Big whoop.

"Of course there is! Come on J, get excited! This is going to be the best year yet," she exclaimed and nudged me playfully with her shoulder. A laugh escaped me.

"I'm sorry, but you say that every year!"

"Well, this year I mean it! It's a new fresh start and a chance to reinvent ourselves! You could at least pretend to be excited. This year we have the junior prom!" she bubbled and smiled her famous 'Sally' smile. It was the name I had picked for when she smiled so wide that the top of her lip hit the bridge of her nose. It looked the same now as it did when we first met in grade school, actually virtually everything about her was the same as it was back then. Same big smile, same wavy blonde hair, and same freckles that were placed precisely in the same pattern as the girl on the Wendy's logo. Even back then she conversed about prom practically every day and by this point I knew her hair, dress, and makeup down to a T. I, on the other hand, wasn't even thinking about junior prom, let alone what makeup I would wear. If I went at all, I definitely didn't want to be caked in foundation like most of the girls at my school. Re-examining my class schedule, I automatically saw an error. All honors; yes, Wood shop; definitely not. Things were already going wrong and it was only the first day of school. Now I would have to go in after school to change it back to Art History. That would look better on my college resume for sure.

"See you at lunch," Sara squealed and left me to watch her skip happily down the hall way. She always loved the first day of school since we were kids while I just wanted summer to last forever. Given the fact that the first day of school was the death of the sun, beach, and any chance to get color on my pale skin, I wasn't a big fan.

Sara and I never hung with the popular crowd and yet we somehow managed to be in it. It wasn't that we didn't like parties or the other kids but we kind of just kept to ourselves. We were practically siamese twins because we had the same opinions on everything. Both of us hated sports, yet liked to watch guys run around with their shirts off. We loved movies and music and were fans of anything sappy. And both of us hated stuck up snobs, particularly, Marissa Leighton.

She was one of those girls that thought she was hot even though hot was just as substitute for trash. The girl couldn't have worn less clothes if she tried. For Halloween last year she dressed up as skin.

By four period lunch I'm overwhelmed. Why teachers insisted on throwing so much work at kids on the first day is something I would never understand. I had an English paper due in two days, an algebra test Friday, and a physics lab tomorrow. Sara was wrong. This year was going to be the worst.

"Of course you're stressed out!" she huffed on our way to the school cafeteria. "Your courses are like literal suicide. I mean, would it kill you to take an art class? And don't say you are, because Art history is not what I'm talking about." I rolled my eyes. "Any of your teachers particularly bad?" She took a bite out of her Peanut butter and fluff sandwich.

"Not really. Just my calculus teacher who calls everyone by their last name. He kept saying 'Ms. Redding' and when I asked if he would call me Josie, he just said 'Oh course Ms. Redding." Sara laughed.

"I have Salter for math and he's going to be awful," she groaned. "I can tell."

"Hey Josie," Owen Michaels interjected as he passed, his dark eyes boring into mine. He must've grown another two inches over the summer and if I had to guess, was now 6'2 or 6'3. His look shot through me with enough intensity to knock me flat off my feet. The warm tan of his skin made me jealous instantly as he cocked his head to the side raking his eyes down my body. A shiver went up my spine. One of his friends did a cat call and I rolled my eyes at the same time Sara yelled "thank you!" Owen and his brat-pack of friends were just as disgusting as ever, and of course by disgusting, I mean totally hot and kissable. They were all dream worthy, and Owen more so than the rest.

"I don't get it," Sara said, shaking her head. "He's been into you since like the third grade and yet you still refuse to acknowledge him."

"Who?"

"Owen you dumb butt," she said, taking a sip from my water bottle. "There isn't a girl in the school that wouldn't fall all over him, including me." I hit her arm at that. "I'm just saying! And that eye thing you two do..."

"What eye thing?"

"That thing you guys do and it looks like you're trying to rip each others clothes off with telekinesis or something."

"Shut up," I protested and felt my cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson.

"You do, and it's kind of hot," she admitted and swallowed before asking, "If he ever asked you out, what would you say?"

"He wouldn't," I tried to end the conversation.

Sara wasn't going to let the topic drop and corrected me. "If... I said if."

"I don't know. It's like you said, Owen can have any girl he wants so he wouldn't bother asking someone out first."

"He would, if it was you," she smiled and poked me with a finger to the chest.

"We're going to be late for sixth period," I looked down at my schedule. Next period was wood shop. I might have been only taking it for the day, but I didn't want to be late so I hurried off to class.

I wasn't late. In fact, I was the first one there. The thought of entering wood shop made me queasy I decided to make a quick trip to the bathroom before class. After which, I found myself running to make the bell. Every seat was filled, all by boys. Most girls would think of that as a sort of blessing, but not having one other girl to talk to made me feel like the boys were more than just the opposite sex. Like they were aliens or something.

"Jose," A voice shouted from the back. Owen waved me over to the seat next to his, quickly shoving his friend Tyler out of it.

"Jesus," Tyler scowled as he moved a row back.

"Thanks," I smiled politely and sat down. He nodded in response.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't seem like the type to take wood shop," he stated blankly. I wondered what type he thought I was.

"Yeah, I'm not," I admitted. "There's a mistake with my schedule."

"Too bad. I wanted to watch you try to make a bird house."

"What do you mean try?" I questioned him, offended. He didn't think I could build a freaking bird house. Anyone could build a freaking bird house! He smiled at my angered response and I knew he took pleasure in getting me riled up.

"You might be able to get A's in all your little 'booky' classes, but I'd bet my last dime that you can't nail two pieces of wood together."

"You really think I can't build a bird house? Cause let me tell you, I can build a bird house."

"Sure," Owen laughed sarcastically, a few of his friends snickering from behind. What a sexist pig.

"Fine," I narrowed my eyes. "Wanna bet?" Owen's eyebrows raised. He didn't think I would challenge him which was exactly why I wanted to. He leaned in, his face just inches from mine, and feel the weight of the class' eyes falling on us. My own focus kept on Owen and his perfectly flawless profile. Dark hair fell in waves over his eyebrows in a way that was neat, yet rock star messy, and his skin had warmed to a golden brown from summer break. Strong broad shoulders showed through his dark navy tee, which hid a full on six pack. I had seen him without a shirt more times than I would care to admit, due to the fact that he had no problem showing off his Abercrombie bod. And who could blame him.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" he taunted. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a devilish grin and I gulped, hard. His eyes slid down to the base of my throat. He was so perceptive that I felt readily aware of every movement I made. I froze and a shiver went down my spine. The good kind. "You won't be able to switch out," he warned.

"I know," I replied, not trusting my mouth to say more.

"So what exactly are we betting on?" he asked, clearly interested. He licked his bottom lip in a way that was purely sexual and nothing else. I wanted to taste his lips. WHAT?! No I didn't! Where the heck had that come from? "If I win...you have to go out on a date with me," he smirked with his face still right in front of mine. And I mean, right in front of mine. His lips moved closer and I could practically taste his minty cool breath. My lips yearned to close the distance as if a magnetic force was pulling us together. In my mind I was telling myself to back away, but my body wouldn't listen. He did something to my that made it hard to breath, let alone move. "If I loose...you still go on a date with me," he smirked like it was the best idea he had ever come up with.

"Funny," I lied. "How about if I loose, I go on the date with you, but if I win..." I paused. "You get Tyler to ask Sara to prom." Sara had only been talking about how cute Tyler was for weeks now and I could only imagine the look on her face if he asked her to prom. Owen bursted out and cocked a smug smile, "Deal."

At the end of the day, I was almost grateful to be taking wood shop because with the amount of work I had in my other classes, I needed one period where I could just relax.

Sara and I had been invited to Cecelia's Halloween and it was all Sara could talk about for the next two weeks. The fact that we had been invited meant we were the inside exclusive section of Teen magazine. Everyone hated us, wanted to be us, or be friends with us.

"So what are we going to be?" Sara buzzed excitedly, jumping around my room in her pajamas one night. We still had about half of September and all of October to figure it out, but Sara wanted to have the best costumes and that meant planning ahead. "Oh we should be something really cute together! I saw online two girls who were sexy salt and pepper shakers! We could do that." God the last thing I would want to be was a sexy pepper maker. How did someone even make that sexy anyway?

"We have tons of time S, stop stressing." She hopped over and threw her arms around me, capturing me in huge bear hug. "J, you might be dating Owen Michaels by then! Maybe you'll be his sexy salt maker," she rolled off me and pretended to be seductive.

"Gag," I pushed at her shoulder. Jake opened my door-WITHOUT KNOCKING-and I threw a pillow at his face. "Get out," I yelled as he started rummaging through my things. "What are you looking for?"

"I know you stole my speakers. Where are they?"

"I didn't take them." Though come to think of it, that would have been a smart idea.

"Jake!" My mom called from below. "They're down here." Told you so. Jake left and Sara used my laptop to look up all the sexy costumes we could be. My favorite was the Eskimo girl because there was no way someone who was freezing would wear something they was basically two strings of cloth. It made me feel less awful about being sexy salt.

As it turned out, wood shop wasn't that easy of an A. I would never admit it, but Owen was right. Two weeks had gone by and I still couldn't nail two pieces of wood together without bending the nail or getting my thumb in the process.

The boys watched me cut my hands and get about a dozen splinters a day, but I didn't quit and I could tell that they were just a little bit impressed. "Shit," I cursed one day after getting my fifth splinter. This one was significantly bigger than the others and my hand started to bleed. Yuck.

"Let me have a look," Owen said as he came over from the table of boys that were no doubt, laughing at me.

"It's fine," I insisted trying to snatch my hand back, but he held on firmly. Pulling out the drawer under our table he took out a pair of thin tweezers. "Oh no." I tried to tug harder. I would rather let my skin heal over the splinter than have to dig it out with those things. "Really it's fine." He continued holding my hand in his.

"Just breathe," he instructed, carefully taking the tweezers and gripping the splinter by it's small dark end. I watched him as he meticulously drew the wooden chip without me feeling any of it.

"Thanks," I mumbled, half appreciative and half annoyed that he had helped me. From the drawer he drew out a container of colorful bandaids and unwrapped a green one. I wondered if he knew it was my favorite color. Keeping ahold of my hand, he wrapped it around my index finger with such precision you would've thought he was doing laser surgery. "So, are you ready to give up on the bet? I mean you could just go out with me," he shrugged, like it would be no big deal.

"I'm not giving up," I vowed. After that he went back to the group of boys and didn't come back when I grabbed another piece of wood and inevitably gave myself another splinter. That was six for today.

CHAPTER 2

Mom was in the kitchen, with the smell of chocolate chip cookies. As she turned to face me I knew she wanted to have one of "those" talks. The ones where she wanted to get all sentimental and go all mushy gushy on me. Yeah, pass.

"Wait," she called when I turned "I want to hear about your day." There was no sliding out of this one.

"What's there to tell?" Nothing, because this town sucked.

"How's junior year going?" She put on oven mittens and pulled out the chocolate chip cookies I had smelled. My mind focused. Get the chocolate chip cookies and get out. "I haven't really had a chance to ask you."

"It's fine." Cookies, cookies, cookies. That was literally my thought process.

"Come on hunny, humor me. How do you like wood shop?" She rubbed my shoulders with her now mitt-free hands.

"It's okay," I admitted and reached for a warm melty cookie. She hit my hand away.

"I'm sending these to one of my clients for their birthday so hands off." Really? Well she wasn't getting anymore talk from me until I got one. Sensing that it was a bad choice for her not to let me have one, Mom slipped a cookie off the pan and onto a plate that she set in front of me. I smiled.

"School's pretty good. It's a lot of work but nothing too crazy."

"Any new friends, any new boys?" she pried. I didn't really have any new friends because Sara and I were so close we tended to block others out unintentionally. There was Owen but I didn't want to tell her about him. Her eyes pleaded me for the insiders info. God, I was so going to regret this. Shit.

"There is one boy..." My mom's look cut me off. She looked like I had just told her aliens lived next door to us and were attempting to take over the universe by poisoning all the donuts in the world.

"A boy?" she gasped, setting down the tray and giving me her full undivided attention. I already regretted it. Double shit.

"Don't get all weird." She rearranged herself to look more composed and less desperate for the details. "His name is Owen and he's an asshole." I grinned.

"So he's cute?" my mom made googly eyes. Leave it to her to extra any excess information possible. I rolled my eyes. "Oh god he's really hot isn't he?"

"Mom!" I snatched another cookie before she could defend them and headed upstairs.

"Keep me posted!" She yelled and I sighed. Mental note: don't give mom any of your social life information out of pity. It never ends without you being embarrassed.

As it turned out, I could build a pretty damn good bird house. "I guess it's for the best," Owen sighed, disappointed. "Besides, Tyler was going to ask Sara anyway."

"What?" I smacked his arm and he pretended to look hurt. "He was going to ask her to prom this whole time and you didn't tell me?! I could have used my bet on something else."

"That date is still up for grabs," he arched his dark eyebrows and flashed a set of perfectly white teeth. He looked like a Greek god.

It occurred to me that I could just say yes. That I could just say, "you know what, fine," and I would be dating Owen Michaels. Before I had even gotten the chance to process if I was actually considering it though, the bell rang and he was out the door.

For the next two days Owen didn't bring up us dating anymore, and surprisingly, I found myself disappointed. He talked to his guy friends while I sat doodling flowers in my notebook, bored out of my mind. A familiar looking boy, slid into Owen's currently empty seat. "Mark," he said knowing I wouldn't recall his name. "I know we're not that friendly, but I was wondering if maybe we could go out for coffee some-"

"Ahem," Owen cleared his throat behind Mark and caused him to take a little jump backwards off the stool. "You're in my seat."

"Right." Mark backed away. "Talk to you later, Josie." I smiled and assured him we could talk soon. He was cute with his slim build and slightly crooked nose. He played up his awkwardness in a cute way and I liked that he was so direct.

"God Josie," Owen shook his head in dismay. "I can't leave you alone for five minutes without someone trying to swoop in and steal you away from me."

"No one's stealing me away from you because I'm not yours," I informed him.

"Oh, you're mine." He gave me a devilish smirk. "You may not know it yet, but you're mine." I rolled my eyes as in 'you wish' buddy. "Alright then, let's make a bet."

"Another one?"

He didn't answer my question, just continued on."I bet if we go on five dates, you'll fall in love with me," he boasted confidently. He didn't even seem to feel badly when I immediately choked on my own laughter.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am."

"And why should I agree to that?"

"Because you're intrigued by me and you wish you weren't. So, if you go on the five dates and think I'm nothing special than you can stop being curious and I'll leave you alone. That wont happen though." As much as I hated it, he had a point. I always wondered what it would be like to date the Owen Michaels and here I was with the chance to have five dates with him!

"You know what, deal. Only because you'll leave me alone after I don't fall in love with you," I said.

"We'll see about that." He reached out and captured my chin in his hand. His thumb moved to my lower lip which he brushed before I could back away.

"You what?!" Sara shouted on our walk home from school.

"I agreed to go on five dates with Owen," I shrugged trying not to make a big deal out of it.

"Five! Holy crap J, that's like overdose. That's like...shamalgazam."

"What's shamalgazam?"

"A word I just made up right now because I couldn't think of a good enough one." She shook her head. "Wow."

"Oh, I almost forgot. I know it's still far out, but I heard Tyler Coloney is going to ask you to prom." I'm not joking when I tell you, Sara literately dropped her backpack and started dancing in the middle of street. People in passing cars stopped to look if someone was hurt which only made me double over with laughter. For the rest of the walk home Sara debated all the ways Tyler could ask her and how her purple dress would compliment his pallor.

I couldn't stop thinking if it was a good idea that I agreed to go out with Owen Michaels. He was trouble and I knew it. That didn't mean I wasn't curious about what a date with him would entail. He told me he would pick me up Friday at six o'clock and to wear athletic clothes, so when he showed up and I was wearing jeans, he made me go back upstairs to change. "Where are we going?" I asked as he turned down another road. "Don't kill me."

"I won't, I promise," he snickered and finally pulled us into the parking lot of Skate Daze.

"We're going roller-skating?" I puzzled. I could have worn jeans.

"Yup," he answered and took out a key from his pocket, sliding it into the lock on the door.

"How do you have that?!"

"I work here," he laughed. He knew I thought he was breaking and entering.

"We have the whole place to ourselves?" I asked, looking at the empty studio in disbelief.

Owen smiled and took a hold of my hands. "What size shoe are you?"

"Eight," I said and took the pair of skates he handed me. They fit perfectly. He put on some romantic music and lead us into the rink. He glided across it with ease while I clumsily held on to the side for dear life.

"Come on." Owen pulled me across the smooth surface as he skated backwards. "That's it," he encouraged me once I started to gain speed on my own.

"Wait!" I fumbled for his shirt as he started to pull away.

"You're okay," He insisted and I was for a second. Then I started to flail and automatically knew I was going down. Owen must've seen it too because he snagged me with incredible speed, twisting us so he took the brunt of our fall.

"Sorry," I apologized, embarrassed. He just chuckled.

"You're cute when you bite your lip," he observed. I hadn't even known I was biting it until he pointed it out. I was still lying on top of him and I rolled off to the side before carefully standing up. He skated with me again, and the next time he let go, I stayed up on my own.

Just a half an hour later I was giddy on Owen and my legs were beginning to ache. Owen made me a blue slushy and heated himself up a pretzel. We sat together, talking about everything from our favorite bands to admitting our pet peeves.

"No way!" He argued. "There's nothing worse than that thingamajig they scrape your teeth with at the dentist. Ugh." He shivered at the thought.

"Um, have you ever had someone read over your shoulder? Like there's something called personal space." He laughed at my confession. As it turned out, we actually had a lot in common. We still argued over little things, but I found myself slowly enjoying Owen's company.

"Ready?" He asked when I finally finished my drink. "The rink opens in about a half hour so we better get going."

On the drive home, we listened to the radio and I reached over and changed the station. "I love this song!" I said turning it up. "Feel the Rain on your skin," I sang. How I wasn't embarrassed, no clue. Owen hadn't made me feel self conscious though. Maybe I was at times because I could never ignore his presence but he never made me feel uncomfortable to let loose and just be myself. It made no sense. "No one else can do it for you, only you can let it in." Owen laughed at my awful singing "Come on!" I grabbed the arm that wasn't occupying the wheel and swayed in time to the beat of the music. "No one else, No one else." I belted and was surprised when he joined in, "can speak the words of your lips."

"Oh my god, no. Stop." I laughed and covered me eyes. Owen was so tone deaf he made me look like a Broadway star. His continued singing madly, shouting out of time to the lyrics as I shielded my face in horror. Eventually I abandoned all thought and belted it out with him. We ended up singing the whole way home and by the time we got back, both our voices were horse. "Thanks. Today was actually fun," I admitted.

"Falling in love with me yet?" he cocked an eyebrow and walked me to the door. Thank god my mom wasn't home, because I was sure she'd be spying on us through the side window. There was that awkward moment when I wasn't sure if we should kiss or not, and I smiled, busing myself with unlocking the front door.

"See you tomorrow?" I said when it opened. He nodded. It didn't really look like he wanted to kiss me. Disappointed, I went inside and shut the door. Maybe the date hadn't gone as well as I thought it had. Just as I was walking into the kitchen, the door bell rang. I opened it only to be the pulled back outside.

"You didn't think you were getting off that easy did you?" He smiled and my breath caught. Owen Michaels kissed me. Behind my eyelids, fireworks exploded and my heart froze. His lips were warm, soft, and it was clear he knew exactly what he was doing. When I had to pull away and come up for air, I felt like I had been ripped apart, loosing something vital. Something that I needed in order to survive. "Have a good night," he winked and jogged back over to the truck. I stood there, watching him pull away, with the taste of his lips still on mine. I watched him drive out of view and then rushed inside to call Sara and tell her every last detail.

"He kissed you?! Oh my god, how was it?!" she screeched through the phone.

"It was...unbelievable."

"Eek!" she screamed and I pulled the phone away from my now broken ear drum.

"Yeah." She was never going to let me forget this.

Sara continued to pull out details from me for the next hour until I became exhausted and made up an excuse to get off the phone.

The next morning I woke up soar. Who knew roller blading could be such a workout? Throughout the day I had to stretch out my right leg, but within 24 hours the feeling had faded. I went back to school finally feeling excited that it was junior year. Sara had been right about one thing; It was a new year, and a fresh start.

On my second date with Owen Michaels, we went to his house where he was apparently going to show me the secrets recipe to his oh-so-famous spaghetti.

"Where are your parents?" I asked as we walked in.

"You're nervous," He observed and his smile revealed a dimple I had never noticed before. I wanted to poke it.

"No," I denied.

"They're out and you better start taking notes because this is a family secret. We've had it for generations." Owen's secret recipe included angel hair pasta and a sauce that Owen had ripped the label off of, though I could tell it was Rinaldi by the shape of the jar. When I called him out on it, he refused to admit it wasn't homemade.

"It's actually not half bad," I admitted after taking a bite. It only took me half a plate to feel stuffed while Owen finished his second plate. "You eat a lot."

"I'm a teenage boy," he explained. "I'll eat anything you put in front of me."

We finished and I washed the dishes as Owen dried. It was surprisingly pleasant and when he took me home he automatically put on the radio station I liked. It was hard to believe he could have remembered it. I spent the rest of the day thinking about who Owen Michaels really was.

I never thought I would actually be going as a costume pair with Owen Michaels to Cecelia's Halloween party, but here I was, not as sexy salt and pepper, but as Peter pan and Tinker bell. Owen had on a dark green tee with brown pants and a light green beanie. Only he could make a beanie look super hot, with the ends of his hair straying out from underneath. He was the one who suggested we go together, which I was taken aback by. Owen never dated and he sure as hell wasn't one for PDA.

I couldn't get over the fact that I was wearing a piece of cloth. Stupidly I had left Sara in charge of picking me up a tinker bell costume and I was sure she picked the most revealing one. It consisted of a shiny, tight green dress that barely covered my bottom, a pair of silver heels, a wand, and a set of wings.

"You look hot," Owen grinned as he took me in. "Do I get a wish?" "Maybe later," I bit my lip tempting him.

"Josie!" Sara yelled when she spotted me. "Hey. You're welcome." She addressed Owen.

"Thank you...? But for what?" he laughed.

"Um, hello! I was the one that bought your girls outfit here! If it had been up to her she would be wearing a lot more, so yes, you're welcome."

"Thank you." He said sincerely and put an arm around my waist. It tingled eve through the fabric.

"Let's play truth or dare!" Marissa Leighton shouted. She always had to be the center of attention and in her French maid costume. It was legit a push up bra, a skirt that didn't cover anything, fishnet stockings, and high heeled black boots. Boys drooled everywhere.

We started to play and I watched some of my classmates do the stupidest things. A few dared each other to take another few shots while others required others to spill their secrets. When Gabriel truthed Marissa and asked her if she was a virgin I thought it was the dumbest use of a question of all time.

"Of course not!" she laughed. "I'm no prude." I hated that she had said that and I hated more that the boys thought it was funny. I turned to glance at Owen who was surprisingly watching me. His hand took hold of mine and I smiled. "Ryan, your turn!"

"Hm..." Ryan looked around the circle until his eyes fell on me. We didn't have any classes together and this was pretty much the first time I was making direct eye contact with me. "Josie," He turned his head intrigued. "Truth or Dare?" Thinking of Marissa's question about virginity I said, "Dare."

"I dare you to get your little ass over here and kiss me." I was so started by his request that I hadn't know if I had heard him right. I felt so uncomfortable and thanked the dim light for hiding my unmistakable blush. My eyes turned back to Owen's whose were now dark and clouded. He gave me a slight nod. Ryan met me in the middle of the circle and smiled in a way that made me dread the kiss. It was sloppy and he tasted like alcohol. I pulled away after the required three-seconds. Owen had gone silent by my side and didn't re-grab my hand. Hadn't he nodded that it was okay?

Later when we were alone I asked him about it. "Are you mad?" I questioned unsure.

"Not at you," he promised. "I shouldn't have let him kiss you. Man I wanted to punch him in the face. I still do."

"Don't," I told him.

"Why not?" he puzzled.

"Well other then the obvious 'violence doesn't solve anything' speech, I've decide to grant you a wish." Now I had a fistful of his tee and I reeled him into me.

CHAPTER THREE

In the next month, I slowly started to fall in love with Owen. It wasn't his perfectly tanned skin or six-pack abs, although those were definitely bonuses. It was that he made me feel like I was the only person he wanted. Like I was someone different, someone special. By our fifth date, I was crazy about him but refused to admit it was love.

"Don't deny it." He poked me in the belly.

"I'm being honest. I'm not in love with you." And I wasn't. It was sure heading that way.

"Ugh." He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Maybe in another few dates you'll stop lying. Give me like another ten."

I did, and by mid January, I was head over heels in love. Owen could be a real sweetheart when he wanted to and although we bickered over practically everything, I could never seem to shake him.

Even in wood shop I found myself staring at him more then doing my own work. He was good at it, really good at it, and not just at building bird houses. He could look at almost anything and create it.

"What?" he asked one day when I'd spent the whole period watching him make a small night stand.

"What?" I echoed.

"You've been staring at me for the last half hour."

"No I haven't." Deny, Deny, Deny.

"It's okay. If you wanted me to stand around so you could check me out, all you had to do was ask," he joked and I kicked his leg.

"Be quiet," I demanded bushing and went back to work on my own project. Unlike Owen's finished night stand, mine lay in 5 separate pieces. I got back to work and gradually started to get fewer splinters.

In the weeks that passed, the sore feeling I had experienced the day after the first date with Owen had fleetingly come back. My right leg was also swollen which seemed weird since I didn't even know things could be swollen for extremely long periods of time. I eventually told my mom, who scheduled me a doctors appointment for the following week. Of course, when we actually went for it, I felt fine. The doctor kept asking if it hurt as he pressed my right shin and calf and because it didn't hurt I kept saying no. I hated that he thought I was one of those kids who made up their injuries for attention.

"There is a little bit of swelling," he examined and I wanted to shout 'Ha see I wasn't lying!' "It doesn't look like anything too serious but we'll schedule an MRI just to make sure."

When I got home, I texted Owen, who picked me up and took us to my favorite ice cream place, Ice Paradise. "What'd they say?" he asked taking another spoonful of his Rocky Road. It was covered in every topping imaginable.

"They didn't see anything which is good I guess. They're gonna take an MRI just to make sure."

"That's good. It's obviously hurting if you have to limp."

"I limp?" I asked, stopping my spoon halfway to my mouth.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I've only noticed it one or twice. You don't do it all the time but yeah you kind of put more weight on your left leg."

"Hm." It was amazing how observant Owen could be at times. He went to throw out his empty cup out. It was amazing how fast teenage boys could eat. I started to read off the menu for curiosity when Owen threw out his empty container. Lobster ice cream? Yuck.

Owen came back over and started to read over my shoulder. "What's so interesting?" I hated when people read over my shoulder and when I realized he knew it, I could tell he was doing it of purpose.

"Stop that!" I scolded and he laughed. I remembered our first date when we had listed all our pet peeves. "I'm going to make you go to a dentist." I threatened as he sat down once again.

The day of my MRI I took off from school. It was a huge blessing considering it was a Friday and I now had three extra days to study for my physics exam, which I would have to re-take on Monday. Unfortunately, they wanted me to come back in on Saturday which kind of ruined any chance of weekend plans. I didn't see what came next from a mile away. "You have cancer."

You have cancer. You have cancer. You have cancer. That's what I took from the doctor's explanation. He rambled on, pointing to things, using big words that were probably on my SAT-vocab sheet, but it didn't matter, because I had cancer. It couldn't be true though. Cancer? I was sixteen for crying out loud. My whole life was ahead of me. How could I have cancer?

Somewhere an image flashed up on a screen and an x-ray picture of my shin bone was propped up in front of me. I could vaguely hear my mother crying as the nurses in the room soothed her with promising words. Two black dots lay at the top of my shin, near my knee. They must have been tumors because when the doctor pointed to them, my mom's sobs grew louder.

Osteosarcoma. That's what they said I had. It was sucky to have cancer, but to get one I couldn't even pronounce? Now that really sucked. Apparently seventy percent of people with it survived, which seemed like pretty good odds, until I thought of the thirty percent that had to die for that statement to be correct. I knew my own luck and I was definitely going to be part of the thirty. Man, I was really going to die a virgin? Ugh. I would never get to have kids or go to college or see what the new iphone looked like, let alone get one!

Random words were thrown around; Periosteal, remission, surgery, chemotherapy. They meant nothing to me and neither did any of the numbers.

Did anyone really care about those facts initially though? Because I didn't. The only thing I could really hear were the three words replaying over and over in my mind. The same ones that would change my life forever.

You have can cancer. You have cancer. You have cancer.

The doctor explained that there was a lot they could do for someone like me, that I was lucky. The only thing I could think was, 'how can a sixteen year old with cancer be lucky?' He suggested a month and a half of neo-adjuvant therapy, and I had no idea what that meant. Eventually he intermixed it with chemotherapy and I realized they were the same thing. He claimed it would shrink the tumors and keep them from spreading before surgery could be done.

My mom called my dad on the way home, and he left work early. I let my mom tell my dad everything and I went upstairs to my room. My body just felt numb. I remembered reading somewhere that when a person want into shock their brain would sometimes turn off their immediate emotions to wand off the traumatic experience. Who knew, maybe I would freak out about it all later. But for the moment, I just felt exhausted. I fell asleep thinking that I wasn't going to study for physics.

I woke up to my mom rubbing my back, wondering if the whole thing had been a dream. "Hi, honey," my mom said with tears glistening in her eyes. "Dinner is on the table downstairs if you want to come and eat." I rubbed at my eyes wishing she hadn't woke me up. "Owen came by," she added. I opened my eyes a bit wider. "Apparently you didn't answer a text he sent and he wanted to make sure you were okay. I just told him you were upstairs sleeping and that you probably just hadn't checked your phone." A tear slid down her cheek.

"Don't cry, Mom. I'm not even crying." I pointed out. For some reason, I didn't feel like crying; I just felt numb.

"I know," she said, running the back of her left index finger across my forehead. "You're the strong one, always have been." Her eyes were glassy but the tears stopped spilling over. "Come on down and eat with us." It took me a few minutes, but eventually I did make my way down. Mom had ordered in my favorite, Chinese.

Dad crossed the room and came to plant a kiss on the forehead. Even Jake smiled at me a little. "We contacted another surgeon," my dad said, breaking the painful silence. "He agreed with Dr. Rosenheck about how to proceed." I nodded.

"Why can't they just do surgery?" Jake asked, obviously informed with the days events.

"Because they want to make sure the cancer's contained. Once they do that, then they can take it out." Dad informed all of us.

"Did you decide if you're going to tell people, honey? I mean, I'm assuming you're going to tell Sara." I nodded and twirled the lo mein noodles in circles on my fork, my stomach was too upset to eat. There was no way I could keep something like this from Sara.

"Can I text her and have her come over tonight?" I was only going to be able to take so much of my family right now. They would just be fussing over me the whole night and I wanted to tell Sara so I could get it over with anyway. When they responded yes, I sent Sara a quick text.

Come 2 my house in an hour. Need 2 talk.

Ok. Is evrything alrght?

With us yes. Me, no. See u soon.

After dinner I made a list of all the ways I could tell Sara. Lists always made me feel more in control.

Tell her something really bad to make the news seem less awful.

Give her good news, than tell her, give more good news. The goodnews-badnews-goodnews sandwich approach.

Don't tell her.

You have to.

Why the hell am I making this list?

I think my favorite was number five because when Sara showed up fifteen minutes later, I stared at her without having a clue of where to begin. My list failed me and I blurted, "I'm sick," without forethought.

"Is it the Flu?" Sara jumped. "That's been going around and I heart Joe Samson has it, but he might have herpes too apparently and I also heard that-"

"S," I interrupted and my heart broke at the thought of her finding out. There was no way I was going to be able to keep this from her though. "I have cancer." We froze and I knew neither one of us was breathing.

"Sorry, what?" she laughed lightly. "I thought you had just said-"

"I have Cancer." I repeated it again and this time, a tear fell from my eye. Quickly I brushed it off.

"Oh my god." She put her hands to her chest and I could see the conflicting emotions cross her face. "How can you have cancer?" She had gone pale and I was starting to wonder if she might throw up.

"I don't know," I responded honestly. "I just do." There wasn't much else to be said for it. "It's Osteosarcoma cancer and its on my shin." Her eyes raked the leg I was rubbing.

"But it looks so normal..." She trailed off and I laughed a little until I realized she wasn't joking. "Is it bad?" she swallowed tightly.

"I don't think so. I have to start chemotherapy in a few weeks so the doctors can keep an eye on the size of it and take blood, things like that." I guess I had managed to pick up some of the doctors explanation. Sara sat silent for a few minutes, processing it all. In the end, the best she came up with was, "I'm sorry," and wrapped her arms around me like a vise.

Sara slept over which gave me huge relief not to have to talk to my parents the whole night. In between our regular conversations we talked about cancer but eventually moved back on to school or prom. I was grateful for the distraction, but the whole night just felt different. Sara went on to talk about prom and if I thought Tyler would ask her; I of course, knew he would. She debated between hairstyles while I debated if I would have any hair at all.

CHAPTER FOUR

For the next two days I avoided Owen. He hadn't thought anything of it yet, but he would soon if I didn't figure out what I was going to do. After 48 hours of constant debating, I decided not to tell him for the moment. The next two weeks were my last shots of being normal and I didn't want to complicate things until the last possible second. Plus, the thought of him freaking out and dumping me was too much to handle. My family didn't criticize me for the decision and Sara agreed to keep my secret.

Every day of the following week, I spent making out with Owen and ignoring reality. We watched movies, took late night strolls, and I even sat and watched him work one day after school. He was surprisingly good with kids, picking up the ones who fell in the roller rink and making the other ones laugh as he showed off. Things were so perfect; he was so perfect. I cherished every carefree hour I spent with him, where as when I came home it seemed to be all anyone could talk about.

"There's a meeting," my mom announced one night as I helped her clean the dishes. "It's for kids your age and maybe you'd meet some new friends if you went." My mom always suggested meetings like this and I never took her up on them. I didn't need new friends. There hadn't been one though that was just for kids my own age though and I agreed to get my mother off my back.

By the time I got to the hospital center, I knew I had made a huge mistake by coming. Kids, and I mean little five and six year olds, flooded the halls. When my mom said kids I had assumed she meant teenagers. My whole life was an epic failure. Trying not to be angry, I turned around, prepared to head back home.

"You look a little too old for this section," a woman in a yellow flowered blouse pointed out. "You should be in the room just over there," she instructed and smiled politely. I nodded, heading down yet another hallway to a room with a windowless door. Were these kids my age? Were they adults? There was only one way to find out. In the room were about a dozen seats, set in a circle, all filled with teenagers. Awkwardly, I took a seat next to a girl who was already bald and looked extremely ill. She might've been a year older than me or a year younger, it was hard to tell.

"Welcome," a man interrupted after about two minutes of quiet chatter. He was around 30 or so with cropped dirty blonde hair and 5 o'clock shadow. "I'm David, the new meeting leader for those of you who don't know, and everyone at this meeting here today has, or has had, cancer. Let me just put it out there; cancer is a real douche bag." Even though I was positive everyone in the room had thought it at one time or another, hearing someone say it out loud, especially our instructor, was startling. I exchanged glances with a few of the people next to me. Our eyes all said who the hell is this guy. "That's right," he continued. "Cancer's a real douche. Come on, try it." Only a few kids said it, and it was just muttered under their breaths. "Louder!" he commanded.

"Cancer's a douche!" We all shouted together. Everyone was laughing but I knew we were all just relieved to get it out there in the open.

"Any other words you want to throw out there?" No one answers. Then, after a moment of silence, one boy sneered "Dickhead."

"Excellent," David applauded. "Cancer is a Dickhead." We echoed his claim. Soon enough we were yelling everything from "Cancer is an asshole" to "Cancer needs to get laid." It didn't take long to understand that David wasn't really the typical instructor for these types of meetings. And yet I had never been more happy to talk about cancer in my life.

We went around the room and said what we had. No one else had Osteosarcoma, but they had everything from brain tumors, to leukemia. I even exchanged my number with a few of them, including the girls on both sides of me. The bald girl-and I do feel bad for referring to her like that, even if only in my mind-was Rachel, who had a severe case of Hodgkin Lymphona. The blonde, Elise, had something called Rhabdomyosarcoma, which apparently had something to do with muscle tissues.

It was good to hear kids my age, talk about having cancer and how they dealt with it. I didn't feel like I was the only one anymore. One guy, Eric, explained that he thought everything in life was a matter of perspective. He said that people weren't lucky or unlucky, but it was just an outlook on how we perceived our experiences. I didn't know if I agreed with him, but it was certainly nice to think that I could be happy with having cancer.

When I came home my mom asked me how the meeting was, so when I told her it actually kind of fun, she beamed. "That doesn't mean I want to go again," I warned her. She nodded, trying to compose her happiness. "Doesn't mean I won't either," I added and she jumped to wrap her arms around me.

"I love you baby," she smiled. "Even if you did just go to the meeting for me."

"Love you too mom," I hugged her back.

"Be honest," she ordered. "How are you doing with all of this?" The concern was clear in the small v crease between her eyebrows.

"I'm okay," I admitted. "I'm nervous for Chemo next week, but I'm okay." She reached up and brushed a hand down my smooth curls. "That's another thing I'm nervous about."

"What?"

"My hair," I sighed. Since I found out, I had put it in the back of my mind, yet it was still one of my biggest concerns.

"It'll grow back," Mom promised. "We can get you a wig if you want." I didn't know how I felt about a wig, or even being bald. So I did what I always did and pushed it to the back of my mind. All at once it hit me how much better my mom was dealing with all of this. A week ago she was crying just looking at me and now she was the one telling me it would be okay. This was a huge improvement.

"Thanks," I kissed her cheek. "For everything." Then the waterworks made their appearance. Great, I jinxed it. I managed to hurry out of the room and escape before I could watch her cry again.

When I went back down stairs, I heard my parents arguing in the kitchen. "What's wrong?" I asked, revealing myself and startling them both.

"Nothing," my mom smiled and my dad came over to give me a hug.

"How was school?" he asked.

"Fine. What's wrong?" I repeated knowing that something was up.

"Remember the little retreat we were supposed to go to?" I nodded. "Well, it's this weekend."

"Oh cool." I said, not knowing what the problem was.

"We were trying to figure out how to cancel the tickets, but they wont give us our money back." Mom broke in.

"Why would you cancel them? You guys have been looking forward to that for months now?" After I realized they were canceling them because of me, I immediately shook my head. "No, you guys have to go! Please go or I'll feel terrible. The flight tickets were super expensive and it's supposed to be your big romantic weekend in NY."

"We can't leave you here on your own," my mother exclaimed, clearly horrified at the thought.

"Yes you can! You were going to before I was sick and you still can now. It's just two days and I promise I won't die while your gone." My mother hated that joke. "If you guys don't go I'm just going to blame myself. Please, go and have fun and dear god do not talk about me all weekend." Knowing my mom, she would just fuss over if I was okay every second.

"Are you sure?" my mom hesitated. "It's the same weekend Jake's away on his field trip and I really don't like the idea of you being home alone right now."

"I'll be fine," I promised. "There's no way I'm letting you guys stay here," I assured. "Besides, it'll be good to have the house to myself for a little while. Maybe I'll have Sara come sleep over." My mom seemed to like the sound of that better.

"You'll call if need anything?" Clearly it was my mom who was the one nervous about me leaving. I nodded.

"Alright, well if you're sure then we leave Friday morning and come back Sunday."

I told Owen that my parents were going out of town on Friday and he got right on board. For the fun of it, I decided to make it a movie night, though with Owen there was no way we were going to actually watch the movie.

"So, what are we watching?" he asked on Thursday, making sure to use air quotes for watching. I knew we weren't going to watch it, but Owen constantly made sure I knew it. Even I had to admit, I was really excited. The hype allowed me to push away the other thoughts floating around in my mind; like having to start treatment in two weeks.

"Probably a chick flick," I admitted.

"How about a Iron Man, or something more manly?" Owen suggested, flexing his muscles, which I had to say, were rather impressive.

"How about no."

"We're not putting on a movie you're actually going to want to watch. If we put on Iron man, you'll be able to focus all your attention on me."

"If we put on a chick flick all your attention will be focased on me," I countered.

"My attention's going to be on you no matter what," he promised.

We ended up putting on "National Treasure," a movie that we both somewhat liked, but were not too invested in. Occasionally, we broke off from kissing to fight over the storyline and how the ending was unrealistic.

"The whole movie is ridiculous. The actors are awful and the whole fact that no one had found the treasure by then, it's just unrealistic." He argued and quickly pulled my face back up to his.

"That's the whole reason why it's amazing," I said in between kisses. "No one knew for so long, and he figured it all out. And don't say that! Nicholas Cage is to die for. Do you want popcorn?" Now I was rambling.

"I'm to die for," he corrected. "As for the food thing..."

"Sorry, I forgot. If it's food you'll eat it." I laughed. "How do you stay so..."

"Hot?" He finished for me and flashed me a brilliant grin. I rolled my eyes and went to go make us some Jiffy Pop.

Putting the popcorn in the microwave, I hit three and rushed back to Owen's side.

"I like movie night," he smirked, fully knowing the effect he had on me. He loved every god-damn minute of it.

"Less talking, more kissing." I entwined my arms around him. It was like he was water and I was stranded in a blazing desert. Somehow, I just couldn't seem to get enough. My hands tugged impatiently at his shirt and lifted it over his head. My god his abs were unreal. I was pretty sure there were eight of them and when they brushed against my smooth stomach something inside me growled. Every part of him fit with me like a glove and it felt like our bodies had become one.

"Shit," Owen said, breaking away from me and dashing shirtless over to the microwave. He opened it and smoke immediately came out along with the smell of burnt popcorn. I had pressed three instead of two on the microwave. Crap. Why was it that I couldn't do a single thing right anymore? Slowly, I was falling behind in school, my family was starting to fight from worrying about me so much, and now I couldn't even hit the right button on the microwave. I saw my whole world coming down around me, and I broke. Not in half, but into a million, tiny, irretrievable pieces. The tears came fast and sobs soon racked my body violently. They were the tears I hadn't cried when I'd first found out and in them was all the fear and frustration I'd been bottling up for weeks. My knees gave out and I sunk to the floor, salty tears trailing down my cheeks.

"What?! What is it?" Owen asked, panicked. He kneeled beside me with wide eyes. The question only made me cry harder because as much as I wanted to tell him, I couldn't bring myself to.

"Jos, what's wrong?" I just shook my head as his fingers raced to catch my tears. They were falling too fast. "Please, you're killing me Josie. What happened?" I still didn't answer so he just pulled me into his lap and soothed me by saying things like "it's fine," and "it'll be okay." He couldn't have had any clue to what I was crying over, but his words felt nice and did manage to calm me down a bit. In the darkness, his fingers found my lips and traced them delicately. I wanted to kiss him, so I did. And I lost myself in the warmth of his lips, and the taste of my own tears.

Chapter FIVE

I woke up embraced in Owen's tight grip. It's so tight it almost felt like he was afraid to let me go. My cheek pressed to his warm chest and I could hear his steady heart beat. Thump. Thump. Thump. His fingers stroked the ends of my hair and accidentally brushed against the exposed skin between my pajama top and leggings. All at once I became aware of our closeness and my muscles tightened reflexively.

"You awake?" Owen asked. I sat up as an answer and brushed the hair away from my eyes. Suddenly, I was horrified at the thought of what I must've looked like. Owen still accomplished looking flawless, if not even sexier with his hair crazed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you," I apologized, embarrassed as I started to recall last nights events.

"Don't be. I like watching you sleep," he stretched. "You don't talk."

"Shut up." I smacked him playfully in the chest. The microwave read off 2:45 and it took me a moment to realize that it was 2:45 am. My stomach grumbled since my dinner had been a part of a carton of ice cream that was now soup. "Do you want a midnight snack?"

"It's food," he pointed out. I laughed and got up to go get each of us bowls. I poured a sizable amount of Lucky Charms and milk into each of them. "I want that one." Owen pointed to the bowl on the left which was slightly more filled.

"That one's mine," I objected taking my cereal in a defensive position. Owen raised his dark eyebrows and lunged for the bowl. I set it down just seconds before he snatched me up by the waist and plopped me down on the counter, cerealless. "You almost got it everywhere!" I yelled at him.

"No, I didn't," he disagreed and placed his hands on both sides of my thighs.

He had me trapped and his face changed from happy to serious in a flash. "Are we going to talk about it?" he questioned.

I knew what he meant. He wanted an explanation for last night, despite the fact that I couldn't give him one. So I just said, "I think you should go." He stared at me and after a few moments he pushed off the counter and left. Without him I was left alone in the darkness, staring at two uneaten bowls of cereal.

The rest of the day I tried to keep busy. The desire to text, call, and even track Owen down was aching like a bad itch that need to be scratched. In hopes of getting things off my mind, I cleaned my room, got ahead on some English homework, and even did some stupid online cosmopolitan quizzes about what color nail polish I prefer.

I watched stupid reality TV shows, thought of Owen, painted my nails my supposed color, thought of Owen, did random internet searches, and oh, thought of Owen. By six o'clock I felt like a couch potato and hopped into the shower in the hope that I would be able to shake off the dawning feeling of griminess. Hot water ran down my back, soothing the invisible aches and pains. I felt so relieved that eventually I sat down and just let it drown me into oblivion.

Owen must've thought I was crazy after last night. I mean, I had cried hysterically over burnt popcorn. If that doesn't say psycho, I don't know what does.

Trying to get out of the shower was torture. The air was freezing and goose bumps immediately covered my arms as I tried to wrap myself as much as possible with the too-small towel. Unlike usual, I didn't avoid the mirror. Instead I wiped off the fog and stared at my reflection. Surprisingly, I didn't look much different. Same hair, same skin, same lips. My eyes were the only thing that seemed slightly different. Darker in a way, and now more grey than blue around the rims. They looked scared and I was. Scared of loosing the boy I had fallen head over heals in love with. The guy who was annoying, took my lucky charms, and thought I was a control freak. The guy who could be sweet when he wanted to and always knew just what to say. And I was the cancer girl. Why would he choose to be with someone like me? Oh right, he wouldn't. So, I couldn't let him find out. Not yet anyway.

Feeling in need of a good pajama fest, I put on my comfiest pajamas and threw my soaking wet hair into a neat braid. I pulled out the best romantic comedy I could think of, Pretty Woman, and a carton of my favorite chocolate chip mint ice cream.

About a quarter of the way through with the carton, the door bell rang. I paused Juliet Roberts learning how to use the proper fork and angrily flung it open. Rain pounded down on a dark figure, who immediately stepped inside.

Owen stood, dark strands of damp hair clinging to his forehead. "I know," He chattered, shaking from the cold.

"Know what?"

"I know," he repeated. "I know and I can't believe you didn't tell me. How could you keep something like this from me, Josie?!" He yelled with rage. My initial curiosity of how he had found out was gone, replaced by watching his reaction. I was about to start what was sure to be a really awful explanation when he stopped me. "No! God Josie," he sighed. I watched the rise and fall of his chest, wondering if he had run to my house.

"I'm sorry," was all I managed to say.

"Cancer?" He shook his head like that couldn't possibly be the case. I followed him into the kitchen where he sat down. It almost seemed like he was going to pass out if he didn't. "Is it bad?" His voice lowered.

"No," I told him. "I should be fine."

"You're fine. You'll be fine." He reassured, although who he was reassuring was unclear. I wanted so badly to go over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. To assure him that I was fine and that everything would be all right. Instead, I stood with feet firmly planted, and watched as he took several deep breaths. "Explain it to me." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "All of it." So I did. I told him all about Osteosarcoma, what it was and how was treated. How seventy percent survived and how I was most likely to be a part of that percentage. I told him about the doctors appointments I'd been going to and the ones coming up. Occasionally he would get up as I talked and pace back and forth, or clench his fists. By the end, he looked exhausted.

"My first real appointment is Monday. They say that's when I'll start getting really sick and start to loose my hair and stuff." This time he stood up and slammed his fist hard against the table. Honestly, I was surprised it didn't break. "It's okay," I tried to sooth him.

"No, it's not okay Josie. Jesus, fucking Christ it's not okay." He threw his hands up. "You're one of the best people I know. Why the hell would this kind of shit happen to you?" he shouted. "Fuck." I could see his finger nails digging into his scalp so hard that I thought he might start bleeding.

"Stop," I said and went to take a hold of his wrists. I pulled them down to my face, my hand entwined in his. "Look at me." After a moment he did. His examined my face with the intent of memorizing every detail of it. "I'm going to be fine."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked suddenly calm.

"I guess I was just afraid that if you found out, you wouldn't want to be with me," I admitted. We hadn't labelled it, but at this point I was kind of assuming we were together.

"Josie," He brushed a hair that had strayed loose of my braid, tucking it behind my ear. "Do you realize how insane that is?" Taking me by surprise, he pulled my face up to his and crushed his lips to mine. In it was all his anger, fear, frustration, and reassurance that he wasn't going to leave me. For the first time in the past few weeks I felt safe, wrapped in his arms. All at once the kiss became heated as he scooped me up and wrapped my legs around his waist. He kissed me like he wanted to devour every part of me and boy did I want him to. He carried me over to the couch, and plopped us down. My heart beat sped up significantly as his thumps pressed into the sides of my waist and... I wasn't wearing a bra. Talk about easy access. As if having read my thought, Owen pulled away and easily lifted me off him. "This isn't a good idea."

"Why not?" I frowned.

"Because you're not wearing bra. There's no way I'm going to be able to stop after that," he snickered.

"Oh," I started to join in.

"Let me come with you Monday." He insisted taking me by surprise.

"To my appointment? No."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because. I don't want you seeing me like that." Was he seriously asking to come and watch me puke my brains out all day?

"That's ridiculous. I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," I hissed.

"It's not up for discussion." Oh my god. Why did we have to argue every two seconds?! It was like kiss, argue, kiss, argue. Why couldn't we just kiss and be civil?

"What the hell do you mean it's not up for discussion. It's my choice, I'm the one with cancer." Yeah alright, I had played the cancer card, but there was no way I was going to let him watch me vomit. That was the ultimate turn off.

"You're seriously not going to let me come?" he stormed. I shook my head. "Well then I'm going to find a way even if I have to dress up as a nurse. I'm coming." Jesus. He was so irritating sometimes. My mind unwillingly noticed how hot he was when he was angry. NO, I told myself. Not hot, annoying.

"Why do you want to come so badly anyway?"

"Because I need you to still see that I'll still want you even after I see you puking your guts out." It was a surprisingly good argument.

"I have good right to be scared! My hair's probably going to fall out Owen. What teenage boy wants a girlfriend without hair!"

"I do! God, I fucking want a girlfriend with no hair, as long as she's you," he shouted. "Holy shit, I'm whipped," he side commented.

"I thought that was pretty clear by this point," I joked and I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.

"Worth it." He pulled on the drawstring of my shorts, yanking me toward him. "Let me come with you."

I sighed heavily. "Okay." He smiled the way he always did when he got his way, and planted a thank-you kiss on my cheek. "Yeah, yeah," I pushed off him still smiling.

When my parents came home the following morning I heard about their 24-hour romantic adventure. It was nice to see them rekindle their love, especially since it seemed like I was the one who destroyed it. I told them about letting Owen in on the secret and both of them thought it was for the best. Mom didn't even make a big deal about Owen coming with us to treatment on Monday and of course Sara insisted that she come along as well. Sara, I found out, was the one who had told Owen in the first place. She cried over the phone saying, "I know it wasn't my secret to tell and I feel awful. It's just that he was so mad and shouting when he called that it slipped out." I forgave her easily, although I'm sure I would have been more upset if Owen hadn't reacted as well as he had. My dad had to work and mom didn't want Jake to miss school so they both weren't coming. To me that was even better although I didn't know why Owen's or Sara's parents were letting them miss a day either. Owen was probably just skipping now that I thought of it.

And boy, Monday came all too fast. I hated to admit it, but I was secretly glad Owen was coming with me. Sara seemed to be freaking out as much as my mom. If Owen was nervous, he was certainly doing a damn good job of not showing it. That was exactly what I needed. Someone to not freak out over this whole thing. My mom was the craziest of all. She kept asking me if I was okay the whole way there and by the time we got out of the car, I wanted to punch her in the face.

The waiting room it self took about an hour and a half. My mom looked anxiously around the room as doctors walked in and out calling people's names, while Sara babbled on about school, trying to make me laugh. My mother was clearly horrified by the number of significantly older patients and although I knew Sara was just trying to help by distracting me, I just wanted her to stop talking. Owen sat in the seat next to mine, his head back and eyes closed, though he reassured me that he was awake every once and a while by squeezing my hand. "It's a game," he said after a few minutes of silence.

"What?"

"It's a game. I squeeze once, you squeeze back. If I squeeze 5 times you have to squeeze five times," he whispered and closed his eyes again. As Sara continued talking about school and Tyler I felt Owen squeezed my hand three times. I squeezed back. One. Two. Three. It was fun to have little side game with him as I pretended to listen to Sara who thought she was doing a good job distracting me. Occasionally I misread the number of squeezes Owen sent, but I picked up on the fact that every time I was wrong he traced a circle on my palm with his thumb. Time started to pass faster than usual and soon enough my name was called.

"Josephine Redding" a woman in a light blue nurses outfit read off and smiled when I stood up. Owen raised his eyebrows like he didn't know my real name was Josephine, but he didn't say anything. The woman who'd called my name, Lily according to her name tag, had two pins on her uniform. One of them said "cancer," and one said "sucks." I immediately decided I liked Lily.

The room they put me in already made me feel nauseas. It was small and practically plain white, with a single blue bucket beside the bed table. It was no doubt for puking purposes only. Dr. Rosenheck came in to check on me and five minutes later Lily came back and hooked an IV up to my arm. I've always hated needles and I turn my head to avoid the sight. "Ready?" She asked. I was never going to be ready, so I just nodded as she added another liquid to the IV drip.

Two hours later I started to throw up. My mom almost immediately broke into tears. So much for being strong for me, I guess. I couldn't really blame her though. The only thing worse than having cancer was having to watch your teenager daughter suffer through it. I felt awful for myself just by watching her. Sara looked a little grossed out, but she continued to talk to me as promised, though her efforts to make me laugh were unsuccessful. I felt like I was gasping for air that just wasn't there. Once in a while the vomiting would stop, teasing me, but before I knew it, it would start up again. Owen, who was sitting next to me on the table of torture, stood up. He went over to my mother who was still crying and whispered something in her ear. My mom got up, nodded, and headed out of the room.

"Thank...you," I stammered in between vomiting. He didn't answer, he just came back over and rubbed my back. Eventually Sara went to wait outside too. She could tell there was nothing she could do to help at this point. I was starting to throw up a little bit of blood which was just about the grossest thing I'd ever experienced.

"The first time I saw you," Owen recalled. "you were sitting outside Mrs. Friedland's class crying. Do you remember that?"

I nod, half laughing, half puking. "Failed...test."

"I know," he chuckled. "I had asked Drew Collins if he knew who you were and why you were so upset. He told be your name and how you had gotten a B on your English test. I asked again why you had been crying until I realized that you were crying because you got a B."

"Same thing as failing," I coughed out.

"And you're still the same way today. You won't settle for anything less than the best," he decided. "It's one of the things I like most about you. First is your body of course, then..." I held the bucket with one hand so I could smack him in the arm with the other. "Kidding," he laughed and I did to, or as much I could anyway.

After that time went faster. I stopped throwing up and started to feel less like crap. The day honestly would have been the worst day of my life if not for Owen. Don't get me wrong, it was still pretty high on my list, but it wasn't the worst. He had made it bearable and I made a mental note to hear him out more often.

The doctors had scheduled my surgery for March 21st, which was about a month from now. I would have to have two more chemo treatments before then but hopefully the month would go quickly. Mom agreed to let Owen eat with us on the way home, curtsey of the fact that she loved him. We managed to skip the topic of chemotherapy at dinner since Owen was the object of everyones attention. Especially Dad's. He wanted to know everything from Owen's GPA, a 3.4, to what he did on weekends, like playing football and making out with me. He left out the latter.

"I heard you and Josie met in wood shop." My dad eyed Owen with distaste.

"Yes Sir." I pinched myself to keep from laughing because I didn't think I would ever hear Owen say sir in a million years. He didn't say it nervously though, he just looked relaxed.

"What made you take it?" Dad questioned. I wanted to punch myself in the face.

"Okay, enough of the interrogation." I laughed weakly. Underneath the table Owen's hand found mine and squeezed it twice. I squeezed back and beamed at my clueless family.

"I wasn't interrogating him," my father acted offended. "I was just asking the boy some questions."

"You've been asking him questions for the last half an hour!" I pointed out. "We'll be outside if you need us." Taking a hold of Owen's wrist, I pulled him out the door. "I'm sorry about them," I apologized after shutting the door.

"Nothing to apologize for." He assured, capturing my hand in his. I stepped out in front of him.

"Thank you," I paused. "for today."

"Oh, I didn't do it for free," He said, and I almost fainted until I realized he was joking. "Yeah, you owe me. Every hour I spend with you there, you have to make up in make out time." He stated it like he was reciting a constitutional law. "Today was about 4 hours not counting the waiting room, so we better get going...," he pretended to stretch out and cracked his knuckles.

"Your crazy," I giggled. It was hard to believe that I had puked my guts out just a few hours ago and I planted a quick kiss to Owen's lips knowing it was because of him that I felt okay.

"I know and now you owe me 3 hours, 59 minutes, and 58 seconds."

"Jesus Christ! By the end of this, I'll owe you a whole years supply worth of kisses," I teased and placed my hands against his chest.

"And that still wouldn't be enough," he kissed me. Beneath the moon light, leaves rustled, trees shivered, and time turned, leaving me and Owen to a world of our own.

CHAPTER SIX

I was loosing my hair. Plain and simple, and it was worse than throwing up. It happened in the shower that night when I ran my fingers through the dark strands and was left staring at a massive clump of my curls. Afraid that I would touch my bare scalp, I refused to wash it or touch my hair after that. When it dried, I realized it wasn't as I had initially thought. I still had a decent amount of hair left, it was just dramatically thinner.

"Do you have any idea what you want to do?" my mom asked that night at the dinner table. "We could get you a wig?" What I really wanted was my hair back. Wigs were for old people.

"I don't know," I sighed. The door bell rang and Owen came inside.

"Mr. and Mrs. Redding," Owen nodded in greeting at the same time I yelled, "We'll be outside," and slipped on my shoes before closing the door behind us.

"Hey," I smiled. In the dark, his hair looked practically black and the waves of it looked like silk. He was magnificent looking, like something strait out of a fairytale.

"I was just coming to check on you." He admitted.

"Thanks, I'm okay though. Except half my hair came out in the shower." I sighed and he used a finger to twirl a stray curl by my cheek. "My mom told me I could get a wig."

"Is that what you want?" he inquired, his eyes intently focased on the curl.

"I don't think so. I just want to keep my hair," I whined.

"I know." His eyes found mine and gave a tiny smile.

"What do you think I should do?" I asked, knowing he would be honest with me.

"Shave it," he suggested.

"Shave it? Why?"

"Because, at least that way you're in control. It'll feel like you have some choice instead of being powerless in the face of it all. Plus, you wont feel bad every time you see your hair fall out. Just rip the bandaid off all at once." It sounded like the best idea I had ever heard, under the circumstances.

"How are you so good with all this stuff?" I shook my head in disbelief.

"What do you mean?"

"You always seem to know just what to do and say. You know how to get my mind off things and what would be best for me. How do you do it?" I puzzled. He paused to rub at his neck.

"I would say I'm just that awesome," he laughed nervously. "Actually, my mom."

"Your mom?"

"She had cancer." He responded while my heart practically leaped out of my chest.

"What?" I sputtered. I could believe what I had just heard. "She had cancer?" He nodded.

"Leukemia," he explained and I thought back to the girl from the teen meeting who said she had Leukemia. I couldn't remember her face, but I could recall her small, fragile looking frame. She was one of the quieter ones and had looked extremely ill. Now I wished I had talked to her.

"Had?" I asked, preparing myself for the worst.

"She passed away two years ago."

"I'm so sorry," I said lamely. How had I not known that? He never mentioned it, but I had also never asked, which made me feel like shit.

"It's okay. I've had a lot of time to come to turns with it. It killed me when I found out about you though. I mean, at first I didn't think I could go through it all again, but then I realized how different it is with you. There was so little hope for my mom and with you...," he trailed off. I knew what he meant and suddenly I felt terrible for him. First his mother, now me. How he could even stand to be near me was a mystery. As if having read my thoughts he said, "I've stopped believing in God. If he really existed he wouldn't let this happen to you or my mom. He wouldn't just sit by and let innocent people die. People keep telling me that everything happens for a reason but I'm sick of all these god damn fucking excuses." His nostrils flared. "No one's out there, we're on our own," he sighed. "Even if there is a God, he doesn't deserve a second of my time." And for the first time, I found myself agreeing with him. Meeting Rachel and Elise had squashed any sort of belief I may have had. I remembered Elise telling me that she believe god gave her the illness so that she could live her life to the fullest. I thought she needed to get off whatever medication she was on. "Anyway, I used to do that hand squeezing thing with her too." His eyes trailed of in memory. "She would have loved you," He smiled tugging playfully on my ear.

"You're amazing. You know that?" I kissed his cheek.

"I know," he smirked confidently and kissed me back, "but so are you."

I did end up shaving my head, and Owen was definitely right. I felt less depressed and more empowered. Plus, I didn't even look half bad bald. The creepiest part was passing mirrors and having to do double takes. But overall the experience was a lot less traumatic than seeing my hair getting stuck in the shower drain. Owen didn't even seem to mind it, which to be honest, was one of my biggest concerns.

Still, I couldn't wait to have it grow back so I could once again so braids, messy buns, and just let he wind run through it.

It took all of first period Monday morning before everybody in school knew I had cancer. Word traveled fast and my bald head was a clear confirmation of the rumors. Some of my classmates directly came up and told me to feel better, while others indiscreetly stared from a distance. I preferred the former. Even Marissa Leighton gave me a sympathetic look which was a first. My teachers were all extremely understanding and promised that I could make up any of the work if I fell behind. A few of them even insisted that I didn't have to. Through out it all, Owen stood by my side. If someone told me six months ago that Owen Michaels, the school hottie, would be my boyfriend and my rock for getting through cancer, I would've said two things. One, that I wouldn't get cancer because I was only sixteen years old and perfectly healthy, and two, that I would never date Owen Michaels in a million years. Oh and three, that you were crazy because Owen Michaels was nobody's rock.

But he was. He was my rock and my go to guy. I used to only have Sara to talk to but Owen was my main confidant now. He continued to come with me to all of my chemotherapy sessions and occasionally took me to doctors appointments when both my parents were busy. With that, he had won over my family, and became a part of it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

With all my focus geared toward the treatment, I had completely forgotten my birthday. It was hard to believe it was already March of my junior year. March 3rd, to be exact. I may have forgotten, but my family sure hadn't. I woke up to breakfast in bed and early morning presents. A pair of spring sandals, an iphone speaker, and a free ticket for a driving lesson at SafeDriving 101.

"Awe, thanks guys." I gave them hugs and got dressed for school. Everyone at school, and I mean everyone, wished me a happy birthday.

"What are you going to wish for?" Owen asked when we headed to wood shop. It was a good question. While other kids my age wished for a new car, or the latest update in technology, all I wanted for my birthday was for another birthday. I wanted to be cured, and get better and feel like a regular teenager again. Rarely did I have moments anymore where I felt normal. Even people at the mall would assume I had cancer and told me I could go ahead of them. I was looking forward to waiting in line with a decent amount of hair on my head. With my surgery in less than a week, the fact that that could be a serious possibility hit me like a bucket of cold water.

That night, Owen handed me a box wrapped in blue wrapping paper. "That's so sweet of you," I said and gave him a quick peck.

"Open it," he insisted. I carelessly tore off the paper and opened the box to pull out a small wooden jewelry box, sanded to perfection. "Did you make this?" I asked in disbelief.

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like it? I love it," I told him honestly. It was more perfect than any piece of jewelry he could've have boughten me.

"I'm glad you're letting me come with you Thursday."

"I don't really have a choice do I?

"Nope." His smirk was all cockiness. "And why is that?"

"Because you always find a way to get what you want," I huffed. His firm hands pulled my hips in so I was right in front of him.

"Thats right," he winked.

"You don't get everything you want you know."

"Actually, I do."

"No you don't."

"I got you, didn't I?"

I rolled my eyes, "Yes."

"That's everything I want right there," he kissed me. God he always knew how to pull me in. He was right though, because I was completely, and utterly, his. And he was mine. I was able to kiss Owen Michael's, my boyfriend, any time I wanted to. I squealed a tiny bit at the thought. "You in love with me yet?" He joked and I threw a fist out to shut him up. He caught it and pulled me into his and I uselessly pushed back. Once his lips connected with mine, all my resistance faded. I didn't think I would ever get tired of kissing him.

It was March 21st and the day of my surgery had finally arrived. I lay in bed after waking up, just thinking of all the ways the day could go. No matter of how many different scenarios I played over in my mind, it all boiled down to two main results, success and failure. Mom, dad, and Owen came along, though Sara's parents refused to let her since she had used up all her absentee days. The three of them kept assuring me that everything would be fine, until Owen realized I just wanted them to stop, and started distracting my parents with talk of their trip to New York.

Dr. Rosenheck came in and told us about the surgery in terms that I could actually understand.

"Basically were going to cut into both areas where the tumors are." He said and marked two x's on my leg where they lay. "Then we take out the cancer tissues and a small amount around it. Supposing everything goes as planned you will be cancer free young lady." I smiled at the thought while my dad rubbed my back. "After the surgery, we'll take a Bone scan just to be sure. That will confirm the results." The nurses came in after Dr. Rosenheck left and instructed me to put on the white hospital gown, that thank god did not have a crack down the back. I was freezing as my parents continued to hug and kiss me

"I wish I could concentrate on your surgery," Owen said when they finally left the room and we were alone. My dad made a growling sound as my mother pushed him out. "all I can think about is that your not wearing anything but a sheet."

"You're such a guy." I chuckled and he laughed, a deep, rugged sound. A nurse knocked on the door, signally me that it was time. Owen kissed me, and my veins felt like they were running on sunshine. "I love you." He let out just when I turned to go to the door. I practically threw myself into his arms and slammed my mouth to his, only pulling away when a second knock sounded.

"I love you too." I whispered and left him in the room. The last thing I remembered was a nurse having me count to one hundred and only making it to ninety-eight.

When I woke up, Sara, Owen and my whole family bombarded me with hugs and kisses. Apparently the surgery had gone well, so at least for the moment, I was cancer free. Dozen's of balloons were tied to my hospital bed and teddy bears of every shape and size lined the walls.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be there to hug you when you went in." Sara apologized for the hundredth time.

"It's fine, I promise. Besides, you've already missed to much school and it's junior year." Speaking of junior year, I was going to have a lot of catching up to do. My grades had slipped from all A's to mostly B's and I wanted to make sure they wouldn't stay that way.

I noticed Owen had ducked out of the room and didn't show up until a few hours later. "Where'd you go?" I asked him when he came back. My parents had gone home to drop Jake off and shower, while Sara's mom practically dragged her out, so she could actually get some homework done.

"Well," Owen huffed, revealing the bag he had hidden behind his back. "I got us some Chinese food since I know it's your favorite, and brought National Treasure which I figured we could actually watch this time." He pulled the contents out before planting a gentle kiss to my lips.

"You're perfect. You know that?"

"I know that," he answered and I sighed.

"You could tone down the cockiness just a bit though."

"No, you love it." He motioned for me to slide over after putting the dvd in player and turning the television on. The Chinese food tasted amazing, especially since it felt like I hadn't eaten in days, and I felt so grateful that Owen had gone out of his way to get me things he knew I would like. We spent the night arguing again on if National treasure could be real, although this time we actually watched the movie. I fell asleep, my head resting on Owen's shoulder.

I opened my eyes and saw my parent's staring at me, wide eyed. I couldn't figure out why hey looked so weird until I realized I was sprawled out across Owen. Even though we weren't doing anything except sleeping, my parents looked like they had just walked in on us having sex. I guess I was just wearing a sheet. This was definitely not going to win Owen any brownie points with my dad. I elbowed him discreetly in the ribs and he moaned, opening his eyes. "Shit," he said and sat up sliding off the bed. It couldn't have been more awkward.

Oh god, please let somebody talk. Someone say something, anything. The silence was killing me and I couldn't describe my relief when Dr. Rosenheck came into the room and asked me how I was feeling.

"Pretty good," I told him.

"Good. We're going to have you do a the scan in about an hour but you wont get the results back for about three weeks. Don't worry though you'll be able to go home tonight and sleep in your own bed," he smiled and I felt instantly relieved.

The scan only took a half an hour and I was changed and ready to go home soon after. As I gathered my things some of the nurses came in to wish me well and say goodbye, including Lily.

"Thank you guys," I addressed the five of them. "I hope you know what I mean when I say I'll miss you, but I hope I never have to see you again." They all laughed and Lily came over to give me a hug.

"So quick question...," she smiled and pulled away. All of the nurses turned around at the exact same moment and on the back of their uniforms were four letters and a question mark. PROM?

Owen stood, roses in hand, and walked toward me. I was speechless and wished I could stand up to kiss him but the doctor said it would take a few days. He did me the favor by bending down to kiss me and I whispered, "yes," against his lips. The nurses awed and I could feel my cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

"This isn't really my kinda style, but I know you're into this cheesy shit so...," Owen whispered under his breath and handed me the flowers.

"It's the thought that counts," I ensured as my mom came in to snap pictures of the nurses' backs. I guess Owen had made peace with my parents while I was getting the bone scan because they were acting normal again. I wondered how he could have pulled it off until I realized, it was Owen. He could pull anything off.

After the surgery it took me a few days to get up on my feet again, although even I had to admit that being waited on hand and foot was a nice luxury. Especially when that person was my super sweet and hot boyfriend. I really did have the best of both worlds.

The minute Sara had found out Owen had asked me to prom she insisted we shopping for dresses. Tyler had apparently asked her at the same time Owen was asking me, only Tyler did it by slipping a note into Sara's locker that said, "Prom with the T man? Check Yes, Check No," into her locker. The cuteness factor was up to Sara's standards and of course she had agreed.

Unfortunately my mom wasn't like Sara's mom who just hand her a credit card and told her to have fun. No, my mother forced me to drag her along with us on our little mall adventure. Sara found her dress at the first store we went into, though the tight violet dress she had always dreamed of looked about the opposite of her bright blue, poofy dress, that was covered completely in sequins. Still, it looked amazing on her and I was happy she found her dress so easily. I wish I could have said the same. Every dress I tried on was too big, too small, too ugly, or I felt awful in it. Every time I looked in the mirror I hated the sight. I didn't hate being bald, but prom was in a few weeks and I wanted to cry at the sight of me in all these fantasy dresses without hair.

I was ready to give up and go home when my mom handed me a strapless coral dress that went to the floor. The top had crystal beading while the majority was plain. When I came out of the dressing room my mom sucked it a breath and Sara's jaw practically hit the floor.

"Oh my god, you look gorgeous!" Sara exclaimed. "You look like a super model!" I smiled and turned to my mom. Her eyes were filling with tears.

"You look beautiful honey." Her voice cracked. "So grown up."

"Mom," I groaned, "don't cry."

"I'm not." I turned to see my reflection in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly, tight in all the right places with just a small sparkle. I didn't care that I was hairless because my body looked pretty damn amazing. Actually, the fact that I didn't have hair showed of my shoulders and collar bone. This was the dress.

"Well, let me see it," Owen demanded later that night.

"No!" I protested. "You can't see it until prom!"

"Ugh," he complained.

"Eat over?" I asked since he usually did nowadays. "Actually, I was wondering if you would want to eat at my house?" My eyebrows rose. Owen hadn't brought me over since our second date, and I figured there was a good reason for it. Not wanting to be a pushy girlfriend I never insisted on meeting his family, although I had to admit I was curious.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," I piped up. "Let me just tell my mom."

On the way to Owen's I buzzed nervously. Obviously I knew it was just him and his dad. He had told me his dad never remarried, just had constant girlfriends. It felt like I knew nothing about Owen's family, probably because I didn't. "I told my dad you had Cancer, I'm just not sure how he's going to react seeing you." His grip tightened on the wheel. "I reached over and gave his arm a squeeze.

"I'll be fine," I swore though I had no clue how it would turn out. When we pulled into the drive way, Owen took a deep breath before getting out and opened the front door with caution. I wondered what he thought was going to pop out at us. "Dad," he called. "Pop," he yelled again and still no one answered. A creak sounded upstairs and a tall, thick muscled man came down the steps. His hair was tousled and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a week or two. With him came the strong smell of alcohol.

"Well, whose this little lady?" He smiled at me. A bad shiver crawled up my neck. His smile looked the same as Owen's except for the fact that there seemed to be something behind it. Something that gave me the creeps.

"Hi Mr. Michaels," I smiled politely and shook his hand. It was hard to resisted the urge to wipe his sweat off my palm.

"Jim," he told me and for some reason I felt super uncomfortable to call him that. "Ain't you a pretty fragile thing." Now I definitely had the creeps. It wasn't just his words, but the way he was staring at me. Like I was a piece of meat and he wanted a slice. Owen seemed to sense it too because he stepped out in front of me protectively.

"We were just coming to say hi," Owen remarked apparently changing his mind about dinner.

"You're gonna bring the lady all the way here and not invite her to stay for dinner?" Jim said and gave Owen a look of disgrace. "That's not the way I raised my boy."

"Josie," Owen corrected him. Clearly, he didn't like his father's nicknames for me any more than I did. "Fine we'll eat."

Eating entailed the same pasta Owen had made the last time I was there. While he cooked, his father and I made small talk.

"You two in the same grade?" Jim asked, sitting down.

"Yes, we met in wood shop actually," I responded.

"What year you in now? Owen," he started before I had he chance to answer, "What year you in boy?"

"I'm a junior Dad," Owen exhaled.

"Wow. My son, a junior." Jim shook his head. "Crazy, right?" he asked me and I nodded. As much as I didn't want to, I slightly pitied Owen. No wonder he never invited me over. His own father didn't even know what year he was in school.

"So you two had sex yet?" he asked and I nearly chocked on my pasta. Owen did choke, and coughed out his mouthful. We may have been eating the same food as before, but the atmosphere was totally different.

"Dad," Owen fumed. He rubbed at his temple knowing how obviously bad this was going.

"What?" he asked, unknowing what went wrong. "I'm trying to make sure my boy gets what he needs? What's wrong with that?" Owen stood up, clearly done attempting to make the night work out. He practically dragged me out the door and into his truck.

On the way back to my house we didn't speak. When he parked in front of my house I stayed in my seat. "I'm sorry," he said, without looking at me.

"It's okay. Tonight was fun."

"Josie." Owen rolled his eyes. He didn't even have to look at my face to know I was lying. "He wasn't always like that. He used to be different with my mom." His gaze was far out. "He used to play football with me and take me to few of the games. Now...," he trailed off. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," I commanded. "It's not your fault. You are not your father." I unbuckled my seatbelt and actually climbed across the console to sit on top of him. His face still looked away from me. "Look at me," I instructed and took his face in my hand. Slowly, his eyes found mine. "You are not him. You have nothing to be sorry for." Even though he was looking straight at me, his eyes weren't really there.

"I'll call you," He faked a smile. I hopped out the door on his side and shut it behind me. He didn't say he loved me or give me a goodbye his. He just drove back down the drive way and into the distance.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Owen hadn't called all day and I was freaking out. Of course there was really nothing I did wrong last night but he knew what was going threw Owen's mind. When my Mom had asked how it went, I told her it was fun and that Owen's dad had a great sense of humor. When she said I should invite him over for dinner one night, I knew it was never going to happen. Not in a million years.

Because mom's have that telepathic thing when they always know how you're feeling, my mom knew something was up despite my reassurance that I was fine.

"Just tell me!" I turned away from her. "You know what, fine. I don't want to know." She folded her arms across her chest. "Oh who am I kidding, please tell me." Not being able to stand her any longer I blurted, "I think me and Owen are in a fight."

"You think?"

"I don't know, but he said he would call me and he hasn't."

"Honey," my mom looked at me like I was going crazy. "It's not even six o'clock yet. I'm sure he's just busy." She hadn't seen the look on his face last night when were in the car and at the dinner table. What did moms know anyway?

At nine o'clock when my phone rang, I practically fell off the couch to pick it up. "Hello?!" I shouted into my end.

"J?" Sara questioned. "Why are you shouting?"

"Sorry," I breathed. "I thought you were someone else."

"Who, your deaf grandmother?" she joked.

"Shut up. What's up?"

"Nothing, just checking in. Did you her back from the doctors yet?"

"Nope, but my hair has started to grow back, so I'm taking that as a good sign despite that it means nothing. It just means no chemo."

"Well that's still exciting!" Sara chirped.

"Okay, tell me whats up?" I demanded. "You are even happier than usual."

"Is it that obvious?" she laughed and I could practically see her 'Sally' smile through the phone. "Okay, well Tyler asked me out! I mean I was kind of expecting it, you know, because of the whole prom sit-ch, but he asked and I was all like hubba hubba, and oh my gosh, I'm so excited! Were going to the movies tonight!" she bubbled all in one long breath.

"Awe! That's great S. What are you guys going to see?"

"I don't know, but who cares! We're not going to be watching the movie anyway," she exclaimed. I could hear her singing in the background singing, "We're going to make out...and order take out...he's gonna' kiss me...he thinks I'm pretty." Leave it to Sara to brighten up my day.

"Hold on S, I've got another call." I told her and picked up the second line. "Hello?"

"Hey it's me," Owen said and I almost dropped the phone.

"Hey, hold on just a sec," I went back to Sara's line and told her I had to go, but I wanted to hear every detail after the big date.

"Hey," I repeated when I was back to Owen.

"Hey," He breathed and I could practically imagine his small smile that tilted up one corner. "I'm actually outside, though I don't have a boom box." He warned. The air was chilly outside and Owen stood leaning against his car. "I know you don't think I should apologize but again, I'm sorry for last night." This time I didn't protest because I knew he didn't want me to. "It's just that my mom would've loved you and I thought my dad might act normal for once if he saw that in you." I didn't say anything, I just wrapped my arms tightly around him. He smelled of mint and spring and it was familiar.

"Let's just pretend it didn't happen," I suggested and he agreed looking relieved.

Inside, I found my whole family seated at the kitchen table waiting for me. "What is it?" I asked anxious.

"The doctor called," my dad said, "your results came back."

CHAPTER NINE

I text Owen: 911 meet my house. Within two minutes he was running up my front steps and practically fell into me when I opened the front door.

"What? What is it?!" he breathed heavily.

"I'm cancer free!" I jumped, nearly toppling his as I wrapped my arms and legs around him like a vise. I started kissed his cheek, nose, ears, and every other exposed area. "The doctors said the bone scan came back clear. I mean I'll have to get routine checks but I'm officially clear and-" He interrupted my ramble with his lips. My heart beat so intensely that I wondered if he could hear it.

"Oh my god." He picked me up and set me down on the kitchen table. "I'm assuming no one's home," he paused questioning.

"Nope," I smiled. Life felt seemly perfect. He was perfect.

"I probably owe you a lot for helping me through this all. With all the time you spent at the hospital with me, i'm practically your slave for life by now."

"I'll be sure to remind you of that the next time we argue." He teased and smiled full dimples.

"You are so beautiful," he said sliding the strap of my tank top off my shoulder and planting kisses from the base of my throat to the curve of my collarbone. I craned my neck, inviting him to explore. He lifted my arms up and I allow him to peel off my shirt. I wasted no time getting his off too. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he paused. "I mean, I'm a guy so I'm kind of praying you'll say yes at this point."

"I'm sure," I laughed and laid my hands against his chest. I wasn't wearing the right bra, and I hadn't shaved in about three days, but it didn't matter. In the moment it was right and special, and everything I could have asked for.

By the time May begun, it had already ended. The anticipation for prom was huge, and now that it was finally here it was all anyone could think about. I was grateful that my hair had grown back in time so that I could at least push it over to one side. Sara did my makeup, which I made sure to repeatedly tell her "Not a lot!" It ended up being the right amount, despite that Sara wanted to slap on another few layers of eye shadow.

"Josie, Sara," my mom shouted from the bottom of the stairway. "The boys are here!" As we walked down the stairs I looked at Owen. He was facing away from me and talking to Tyler when he turned around. The way he watched me you would've thought I was the be all and end all.

"Hi," I said after crossing the room to him. He was transfixed for a moment before snapping out of his daze.

"Hi," he repeated. "You look..."

"Shamalgazam." Sara finished for him. Both boys were confused but we laughed at out private joke.

"Mom, please stop," I begged as she snapped yet another photo.

"Sorry," she apologized but not before taking one more of me and Owen.

"Have fun honey." Dad pulled me in for a hug. He then proceeded to clamp his hand down on Owen's shoulder and whisper something in his ear. Oh my god, and just when I had thought this couldn't get more embarrassing.

"Okay, goodbye!" I rushed to grab Owen's arm and drag him out the door. We got into Owen's car and made our way to the high school. Sitting there, staring out the window, I could help but think how the past months had led to this moment. I had had cancer and it was still a lot to process. Owen the past few months I had chemo treatment, surgery, been cured, fallen in love, and had my best friend and family stand by me through the whole thing. I remembered thinking when I first found out I was sick, that no one with cancer was lucky, but that wasn't true. I was. Despite the fact that everyone always told me I would be fine, there was always that little voice in the back of my mind. The 'what if?' scenarios. And here I was, healthy, in a beautiful dress, with my best friend, and my boyfriend. I was the luckiest girl in the world.

Our school gym cleaned up nice. With the twinkled lights, glittered tables, and projected stars across the ceiling, the night really felt like magic. Unexpectedly, Owen grabbed my hand, pulling me into him. My breath caught again at how beautiful he was and I didn't think I would ever get used to it.

"Dance?" he winked and pulled me to the dance floor without waiting for an answer. He dipped me as I smiled pure bliss. Time had stopped, leaving us in a world of our own. The songs slow down and many couples leave the dance floor. Owen and I stay, slowing our movements down with the beat of the music. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned my head against his chest. We melted into one another and simply existed. His hands drew away from my waist to find my face. I was caught up in the touch, and soon the kiss, as he plants his lips gently against mine. There was no need for words. The moment was perfect, and nothing needed to be said for it. There was no need for I love you's because we could feel it in the way we moved together. It was one of those few moments in life where you felt like crying of happiness because you had discovered how amazing life can truly be. In a private world of own, we danced, we laughed, we kissed, and we fell in love all over again.

"You kind of are the romantic type," I concluded.

"No, I'm not," he rejected immediately, offended by my assumption.

"Oh yeah, wanna bet?" I smiled, grabbing his tie roughly and pulling his lips down to meet mine.

END

EPILOGUE

We sat at the dinner table, the three of us, eating home cooked spaghetti. I stared at the two boys, my boys, and thought about how similar they looked. Kyle was the mini version of Owen besides for his curly hair, which was all mine. It was also definitely in need of a trim. He had gotten so big, it was hard to believe he was going to turn five in April.

"Come on, bud," Owen scooped Kyle up and put him on top of his shoulders. Kyle smiled his perfect little tooth gap smile and rested his hands on Owen's forehead. "It's way past your bed time."

"Awe, Dad," Kyle cried in protest.

"Don't complain. You've stayed up late enough." Owen took Kyle off to his room laughing. I washed off the dinner plates before following them into Kyle's rocket ship themed roomed. Leaning against the door, I watched Owen tuck our son into bed.

"Dad?" Kyle whispered when Owen stood up.

"Yeah?"

"What if when I start school next year the other kids don't like me? Jason doesn't like me." He looked absolutely adorable, all worried with a little crease between his dark eyebrows. Jason was a boy from Kyle's kindergarden class had gotten into a "disagreement" with on a play date. Even though I'm biased, Kyle did nothing wrong. The other boy had taken his blocks when he was still using them and then told the teacher Kyle was messing with his tower when he was just trying to take them back. Owen had laughed at the encounter, saying, "He's like me, a little trouble maker."

"You'll make plenty of friends," Owen shook Kyle's curls. "I promise." Kyle still pouted. "Do you know, that when your mother and I first met, she didn't like me?"

"Really?"

"Really. Sometimes, people don't like you until they get to see the incredible person you are. So don't worry. You'll make tons of friends." Owen assured him and rubbed his back when he turned over, his cheek pressed to the pillow.

"Swear?"

"Swear."

"Goodnight, hun." I went over and kissed him.

"Night, mom." He closed his eyes and Owen turned out the light.

"He's so cute." I shook my head, as I walked back into the kitchen.

"Of course he's cute, I'm cute," Owen reasoned and set the dishes I had been holding down. After wiping my hands on a paper towel I entwined myself in him.

"You are cute," I admitted while he nuzzled my neck.

"You're not so bad yourself," he winked and when he kissed me, I melted.