Type Three: the Cure
Chapter 1
It all started with a smile. He had my heart from the moment I saw him look at me with those puppy dog eyes and little button nose. He only weighed 6 pounds at the time, but those six pounds stole my attention right away. He's my little brother, Ryan. Now, years later, he's my cute yet annoying ten year old brother. He also has Type 1 Diabetes. The moment I heard the doctors diagnose him, I couldn't believe it. I thought that since he looked normal on the outside, he couldn't be sick. My little brother that plays soccer and baseball and drums couldn't possibly have the same disease that took my father a few years ago. Now that I'm seventeen, I understand exactly how scary this disease is, and how much it can affect your life, even when you're not the one with it.
The family just found out three months ago, and my mom is already making us all go to this Diabetes Awareness Night. I bet it's going to be some boring sob event where each mother needs a tissue as she tells everyone how special her child is. At least my friends are going, too, to lend some support. My mother told me some band is playing, but she's never told me specifically who it is yet. Sometimes I think that my mother hides things from me because she wants me to be safe, and she never wants me to worry about my little brother. Other times, she does it just to annoy me.
"Kristen, I need you to help Ryan with his insulin," I hear my mother call me from the living room. I walk into the kitchen and wince as I inject the insulin shot into him, but he just stares at me like I am weird. Well, I am, but I didn't really think that it was this obvious.
"I can't believe it doesn't hurt you," I state simply as I put away his medicine and steer him over to his breakfast.
"I've been doing it for three months, Sis," he tells me. "I'm kinda used to it." I shrug and leave him to eat his cereal. I take my schoolbag and my car keys and walk out the door. I hear my stepfather yell a goodbye and smile to myself. I get into my electric blue Mazda CX-7 and drive off to another boring day of my senior year at Westbrook High School. As I pull into my parking space, my best friend Brandy glances over for a second, and, realizing it is me, runs up and grabs me in a tight hug.
"Brandy, you're sorta choking my windpipe. I won't be able to sing tomorrow if I'm in the hospital," I gasp as I try to breathe. She lets go instantly and smiles sheepishly.
"Sorry. So, Kris, you excited about singing for the entire school?" she wants to know as we walk back over to the group.
"I'm just thinking about other things right now, that's all," I tell her as I look at the ground. «I'll be fine tomorrow.»
"Oh," she says. "Your mom is still making you go to that Diabetes thing?" When I nod, she sighs and pats my shoulder sympathetically.
"How can she make me do this? I don't wanna go and talk to Dr. Phil about my problems with my brother having Diabetes," I remark with a sigh and frown. "I mean, I'm fine. Look at me. I'm actually happy for the first time in months!"
"Well, at least you can listen to a band when you get there," Brandy tries to cheer me up, and I smile wide at her.
"Yeah! I just don't know who it is," I reply as we walked to first class together. "Yet."
"Brandy, where's that dress I wore to the formal dinner last week?" I ask from inside my walk-in closet.
"How should I know? I don't live here!" Brandy retorts with a smirk.
"I was being rhetorical!" I answer with a giggle, humming one of my shirts at her head. We both laugh, and I continue ruffling through what is in my closet. I finally see a hint of baby blue and push all of the other clothes aside to get to it. I smile as I grab hold of the dress I was looking for and show it to Brandy. She starts to smile and nods at the door. I bring it downstairs to my mother so that she could press it for her business dinner next week that she is forcing me to go to. She wants to show off her up-and-coming musician daughter to all of her friends at work. I guess I could go and plaster on a smile for one night, even though none of those women would like my style of music.
"What are you wearing tonight to the Diabetes thing?" Brandy asks me as I come back into the room. I open my closet again and stare at my clothes with a sigh, biting my lip.
"I have no idea. Not one idea."
"Uh, guys? I lost my tie! I want to wear it tonight!" I yell as I rummage through my drawer next to my bed. My younger brother walks into my room calmly and leans on my door, folding his arms as he watches me look for the tie.
"Which tie? Is it red with green and blue stripes and a little polka dot in the middle?" he asks me with an innocent look on his face. I nod. "Well, I haven't seen it." I groan and hum a pillow at his head. He chuckles and walks out the room, but not before throwing the tie on my bed. I grab it and stand in front of the mirror, watching myself as I attempt to put it on.
"Someone come here! I need help putting my tie on!" I shout as I glare helplessly at the fabric lying motionless in my hand. My older brother strides into my room with a wide grin as he flaunts his neatly folded tie and black vest.
"Dude, eighteen years of your life, and you still don't have any clue how to tie your own tie," he laughs at me while I roll my eyes and mutter how I know how to do other things.
"You know what, bro? At least I know how to drive correctly," I shoot back at him. He stops with my tie and glares.
"Oh sure. Bring that one up, why don't you?" he tells me. "I couldn't see that stupid trash can. I would've swerved if it hadn't come rolling out into the street like that!" He finishes with my tie and storms out to finish getting ready. I laugh to myself and take my bottle of hair gel from the dresser, squirting some into my palm. I already straightened my hair earlier, but I still need to style it. I grin as I think of the upcoming event this evening. My brothers and I have come a long way in the past few years, and getting invited to such a big evening is just icing on the cake. I hope there are going to be some people my age there.
"Are you ready to go? The limo's here! You've been up there for hours!" I hear my mother from downstairs and check out my hair about four more times in the mirror before taking my phone and running out the room.
"Ouch! Easy on the hair!" I scold Brandy as she yanks the straightener from my head.
"Oops. Sorry. Keep still and I won't burn you! I'm trying to flip your hair!" she replies as she takes another section to straighten. I smile and rub some blush on my cheeks and start on my eyeshadow when I'm sure that it's perfect. I'm wearing low-rise, faded jeans and a forest green long-sleeved, V-neck sweater with a brown cami underneath and brown Converse's. We both stand up as my mother yells for us to hurry up, or we'd be late.
I start to repeat asking Brandy how I look for the tenth time in five minutes when she pushes me out the door, grabbing both of our coats and purses. We rush downstairs and out the front door. Brandy and I are going to follow them to the place in my car in style. It's better than getting there in my mother's beat-up old Dodge caravan. When we get there, we find a good place to park and follow my parents inside. My brother stops me while everyone else goes ahead of us into the building.
"I'm scared to go in there," he whispers as he gives the place a second glance.
"Why?" I want to know as I search his eyes for fear. "These kids are all just like you. Listen to me, Ryan. This is a good thing. For all of us. You'll make friends. Trust me." He nods with a genuine smile on his face and gives me a tight hug before running to go catch up with my family. I hurry over to Brandy, and we both step in the door with anxious yet excited faces. Neither of us expects to see what hits us when we walk inside. Tons of children around Ryan's age are crowding around him, asking him about his age and interests. He is smiling from ear to ear, and I melt with relief as he rushes off to go hang out with them. We walk over to our table, where my parents have already made friends with some woman and man. My mom and the woman are talking about some store they both shop at, and my stepfather and the other man are laughing about golfing and sports.
"Of course. Stereotypical," I mumble to Brandy, who tries not to spit out her drink in laughter. My mother sees us and waves us closer.
"Girls, I want you to meet some lovely people. This is Mrs. Denise and Mr. Paul. Their son has Diabetes as well," my mom starts to introduce us. The couple smiles in joy as they look at us. «Denise and Paul, this is my daughter, Kristen. This is her best friend, Brandy. These girls are absolutely amazing at making music! You want a song, they've got it!" Mrs. Denise only seems to grow happier as my mom starts to talk about our musical talents.
"Ma, you said no music tonight," I remind her with a smile over at Mr. Paul, who returns it.
"It's okay. I truly don't mind!" Mrs. Denise states. "In fact, our sons love music! They are really good at it as well." She looks at us, and I smile wide at Brandy. She smiles back and starts to play with her bangs.
"Whenever you get a chance, girls, I bet our boys would love to talk to you two about music and such!" Mr. Paul says, giving us a warm smile. I nod in excitement, and Brandy gives an emphatic thumbs-up.
"Are they here tonight?" I ask in curiosity. They both look at each other and nod.
"But they can't talk right now. Later on tonight would be great, though!" We both nod at the couple.
"Oh! Honey, there they are! They're going on right now!" Mrs. Denise points past me to the stage with joy lighting up her face.
"Who?" I want to know.
"Our sons," Mr. Paul answers simply.
"Oh...my...uh, Kristen?" Brandy tugs at my sleeve, making me turn to face her.
"What?" I demand gently. She points without words to the stage, and my mouth drops open as a knot forms in my stomach.
"We've been talking to Denise Jonas for the past five minutes without realizing it," she states the obvious as I look over at the grinning face of Joseph Adam Jonas as he steps up to the microphone.
This is going to be one really interesting night.