It was a one in a million chance I would ever see her again. And yet my mystery girl who believed we would meet again was right. About fate, I mean. I never thought it would be possible. I lost the bet and she's saved me all over again.

MAIN SONG: Summer storm- Stuart Roslyn

PROLOGUE

I would like to have said that I stood firm for my younger brother only two years my junior at the time of my mother's death, but when I heard from the doctor that she wasn't going to make it out of the operation my eleven year old mind couldn't process anything. I couldn't process the fact that me and Tristan were going to be motherless and parentless. I couldn't process the fact that our mother wasn't going to tuck us in bed anymore. Really, I couldn't process anything.

Tristan was too young to know either the impact Sally's death would have on us.

I left Tristan to sit in the empty hospital room where they had already cleared the room and called the time of death to walk outside. Nurse said a social worker was going to come for us soon, but I didn't want to talk or have to handle anything right now. My head hurt from all the medical terms being spouted everywhere. I was only eleven for Christ's sakes. And yet, Tristan obviously couldn't handle anything—so I guess, it was me who had to take charge. And the thought of doing so was too overwhelming to think about, especially under the white lab lights lining the pristine hallways of the hospital.

I let out a huff, sitting on the bench outside my mother's room with my head in my hands. Could I ask for something for my head? I was in a hospital after all.

Tears brimmed in my eyes and no matter how hard I tried to keep them away, tears fell down my cheek. This wasn't manly. Not manly at all. I shouldn't be crying like a baby like this.

"Are you alright?" A sweet girlish voice said beside me.

I quickly swiped at my eyes and looked up. Standing there was a girl, maybe my age, maybe younger. Her hand was clutching onto a pole that had rollers on the bottom and an IV bag attached to it, which tubed around to stick in her arm. Another tube ran around her face from ear to ear to help with breathing. The girl had a much too pretty of a face to have her hair shaved.

"I'm fine." I said more rudely than I meant.

"Hm, you don't look fine. My mom says that whenever someone's eyes are red like yours, they're trying to hide whatever pain they're holding inside."

"…She's right."

"So you're not fine, huh." It was spoken as more of a statement rather than a question. She took a seat beside me.

I look over a bit weirdly at the strange pretty girl next to me, "No." I feel very bad talking about my mom's death to someone whose obviously in a whole lot more pain than I am.

"Well, you want in on a little secret?"

I look at her long and hard, "sure."

"Whenever you feel like your world's going to fall apart and feel like you simply want to disappear from the face of the earth, you close your eyes" She does so, squeezing them shut for good measure. "put your hand on your chest" She puts her hand over her heart, "And think about all the good things that you have already in your life," She opens her eyes then and smiles, turning to look at me again— a bright silver filling my vision, "then everything gets just a bit better." She says with a shrug, "I guarantee it works every time."

I can't help but want to do that too—if only to see if it does in fact work. But, my nerves are already a bit more calm simply talking to this girl who I have never met before.

"Go on, you try." She says.

I look a bit with curiosity and a bit with wonder at her as I slowly raise my hand up to my chest. She smiles encouragingly and I close my eyes. I think about Tristan whose still here with me— who will remain even dearer to me since he's all I got now. I think about the stories mom used to tell us right before we went to bed. I think about the ocean and how I want to visit the beach again someday, feel the ocean breeze blow within my hair.

I think about all that and then open my eyes to the girl sitting next to me outside my mother's hospital room—back to the present, though now, the present doesn't seem so bad.

It doesn't feel so overwhelming.

And for the first time since I heard my mother's accident, I smile.

The girl smiles seeing me smile.

"You're a fast learner. It took me a while to get the hang of that trick and I had to use it a lot."

I believed her.

"How much is a lot?"

"Every time they stick a needle in me."

I look sadly at her. She understands a pain far greater than mine perhaps.

"I'm glad you talked to me."

"I'm glad I could help."

"You think I'll see you again sometime?"

The girl slips off the bench as light as a feather and clutches to her IV pole again, "If you believe in fate then who knows."

"Fate?" I give her a weird look as if I've never heard of the word.

She shrugs with a smile, "Yeah, fate. But, really, who knows what'll happen in the future. I might not make it to see you someday."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sick. My parents are both dreading the wait. They don't tell me much but I'm guessing the end for me is coming soon."

"That's horrible." I said, with the frank mind I had.

"It is, but there are worst ways to go. I've made peace with my fate."

"I don't believe in fate."

"Well, that's fine too, I guess."

She was way mature for her age. Way more mature than me, I was sure. I really did wonder about fate. Would I really, truly see this girl again after I left this hospital and got sent to whatever foster home they put me and Tristan in.

Was that possible?

"You want to make a bet on it?"

"On what?" I ask, looking at her curiously.

"On seeing each other again-by fate. I bet we will see each other. You bet we don't, since you don't believe." she smiles with silver bight eyes shining.

"Well, how will we recognize each other? We barely know each other now."

"Hmm." I watched her brain work from underneath her eyes, "Here." She pulled out a beautifully embroidered handkerchief from her pocket. It had a picture of a girl sitting with a book in her hands knitted in the center with quotes of famous classics lining the outside.

"One of a kind."

"What if—"

She shushed me, "No what if's. If by fate we do meet each other again sometime in the future, then that's exactly what will happen."

I smile a bit looking down at the embroidery in my hand, then nod, "I'm in."

She smiles a bright smile, "There are a lot of odds against us seeing each other again. That's what makes this bet so exciting. You might win and we may never see each other again."

"So on my death bed when I've never seen you my entire life—then I win?"

"Mhmm."

"What do I win?"

She pointed to the handkerchief, "It's more valuable than it looks. And it'll be worth a fortune by the time you're on your death bed."

"And if you win?"

"Then you return my handkerchief to me."

It sounded so elementary and simple and yet I liked it.

"Deal." I say, sticking out my hand.

She smiled and took my hand. Her hand was cold but soft and I noticed a small scar on the inside of her wrist that vaguely resembled the shape of an x—where I can imagine several needles and knives went through.

"Deal."

And that was that. I never learned the girl's name or where she came from. I just knew she had silver blue eyes, had a pretty face and was very sick.

She became my mystery girl.