Disclaimer: Twilight is not mine.

I want to thank Project Team Beta for betaing for me. Go check them out!!! They're amazing!! And special thanks to my permanent betas (from PTB) youngxgirlsxhearts and Harry Plopper.

By the way, I had a really nice quote to go in the summary. Here it is: "Love is a sweet tyranny, because the lover endureth his torments willingly." --Proverb

READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END.

For those of you readers who have been close to someone with cancer, and for my grandmother, Sunni, who died of brain cancer in October, 2001.

Chapter 1

"God pours life into death and death into life without a drop being spilled"

~Author Unknown

Violet

Violet could remember when she first started having symptoms of leukemia. Of course, she didn't think that she had cancer. Not then. But now she knew what had been behind her sudden dizzy spells. Why her bones had seemed to jut out from her skin. Did she blame herself for not noticing sooner? For not going to the doctor the first time the world blurred around her?

No.

Violet was sixteen, going on seventeen! She was young. Free. Healthy. She didn't do drugs, drink more than a few sips of alcohol, or overindulge in double chocolate ice cream—her favorite, by the way. Violet's life was just beginning. She wasn't supposed to get stupid cancer. She had a new house, a new school, some new friends, and some old ones, of course. Everything was perfect. Violet was happy.

Violet!" Amy squealed over the music blasting from her front door, throwing her arms around Violet. "I missed you sooo much! You don't know what it's been like without you! School is so…empty. Anyway, everyone is here. You have to come in."

Violet rolled her eyes at her best friend's antics. "Please, Amy. It's only been three weeks. And besides, it's not like I moved across the country. I still live in Washington."

"Seriously, Violet? You live three whole hours away. We'll only be able to see each other every four months or something. How am I supposed to live without you?"

Violet sighed. "Let's not talk about that right now. I'll be here for the weekend, right? Now where is this party you were bragging about?"

Amy laughed and led Violet inside her house. Violet was immediately overwhelmed by the crowd of dancing people jammed into her friend's house. A cheer rippled through the throng at her appearance.

"Jesus. You did invite everyone," Violet remarked.

"Told you so," Amy replied with a smug smile.

"Violet!" Tasha, a small African American girl, bounced up to her.

"I'm going to the kitchen," Amy muttered. She and Tasha weren't the best of friends. Something about liking the same boy in the first grade or something. All Violet knew was that girls could be ridiculous when it came to members of the opposite sex.

Just as she was about to reply to Tasha, the edges of Violet's vision began to blacken. She felt a little woozy and everything tilted. She stumbled back a step.

Symptom number one.

Shortage of blood cells. Anemia. Anemia can cause tiredness, weakness, headache, feeling cold, dizzy, or light headed, and shortness of breath

--American Cancer Society

"Violet? Violet, you okay?"

Slowly, everything came back into focus. Violet shook her head in an effort to stop its spinning. "Wow. That was really weird."

"What happened?"

"I just got a little dizzy. I'm okay."

"Thank God. You looked like you were going to faint or something."

Violet started to get dizzy again. What was wrong with her? "No, no, I'm perfectly fine. Hey, I'm going to go grab a glass of water, okay?"

"Sure."

Violet shoved her way to the kitchen, waving off the people who tried to talk to her, and located the cooler. She froze. It was full of beer. She was shocked; she had been to parties with beer before, sure, but at one of Amy's parties? Her mom was one of those anti-drug advocators that preached at the local high schools. If Amy's parents came down and found this…

"Amy, what the hell are these doing in here?" she demanded loudly, holding a can of Budweiser above her head. "Amy?"

"One sec!" Violet heard Amy call from her pantry.

"Lord Almighty," she muttered before stomping over and flinging open the door. Drew Smith was attacking Amy's mouth enthusiastically, and, even worse, Amy seemed to be enjoying it, from the sounds Violet heard coming from her mouth. Disgusting. Violet grabbed Amy's arm and pulled her away.

"God, what is your problem Violet? I was doing something," she complained, wiping her mouth off with her arm and straightening her clothes.

Violet pursed her lips together. Because lip-locking with a loser like Drew next to canned Spaghetti-Os and bags of rice was oh-so-romantic. "My problem is that you have beer at your party," she snapped, throwing open the cooler. "Jesus Christ, Amy, what are you thinking? Your parents are in the house!"

Amy stared at the alcohol for a second before finally saying something that she wouldn't be proud of later. "Whoever brought this crap into my house is. So. Effing. Dead." Her face was bright red against her blonde locks. She stormed out into the main room. "Everyone OUT!!!! THIS PARTY IS OFFICIALLY OVER!!!!" God, she was loud. An audible ripple of annoyance passed through the party-goers. "I don't want to hear it! Get out!" Everyone slowly began to file out the door, still grumbling.

"It's only nine thirty," Chris, a well-known druggie, complained.

Amy's tiny, manicured hands clenched into fists. "Yeah? Well, maybe if you and your friends hadn't brought beer to my party you could've stayed a lot longer." Amy glared at him. "Now leave."

Chris blushed and he opened his mouth to say something smart back to her.

"Don't you dare, Christopher."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes. "This party sucked anyway," Chris said on his way out the door.

When the whole house had been cleared and Amy and Violet had successfully disposed of all alcohol, they headed upstairs to her room.

"I mean," Amy grumbled on their way up, "can't they just make it through one party without getting drunk? If my parents had found that they would've murdered me."

"Obviously not," Violet replied.

Amy gave her a look as they entered her room. The walls were black with all sorts of silvery designs painted on their surface—stars, hearts, swirls. They were slightly ridiculous, but Amy couldn't bring herself to paint over them as they had been Violet and hers summer project when they were eleven. Pictures of Royce Santos and Jeffry Alexander—Amy's favorite movie stars—were plastered onto the ceiling. Everything was neat and in its place. Violet resisted the urge to throw things off of her shelves and dump out her dirty clothes basket all over the floor. Amy was extremely OCD; it was something Violet had had to put up with since birth. "It's completely ridiculous."

"Yeah, it is. Especially since cheap beer is probably the grossest liquid in existence besides soy milk. And since hangovers suck."

"Like you've ever had a hangover."

"My brother had one practically every day. It's partly why I refuse to get drunk."

"Why else?"

"Um, I don't want my mother to disown me and force me into law school. And, you know, the car crashes and liver damage."

"Your mom did not disown your brother."

Violet snorted. "Maybe not, but she certainly came close."

Amy sighed. "So how's Forks, anyway?"

"It's…" Violet hesitated. "Different. It's always raining, and it's so…so small. I've practically learned all the juniors' names. And, of course, you're not there. I got into my car like, twice, meaning to go visit you and then realized I couldn't. Another thing, I don't really use my car any more. You can practically walk everywhere. A car is nice and all, but I've just been walking to school lately."

"Ew."

Violet rolled her eyes."It's only ten minutes away, and I do use an umbrella."

"Ew," Amy repeated.

"You're ridiculous." Violet fell back onto Amy's bed.

"So," she began with a smile, "any cute boys?"

Violet grinned. "Actually…there is one. But—"

"Tell me all about him. Right. Now."

"His name is Caleb…he's Quileute—Native American. He's funny and nice and his body is to die for. He likes me I think. But—"

"You are so lucky," she sighed, interrupting Violet.

"What do you mean?"

"Violet, don't act dumb. All the boys like you. You're so beautiful and nice and self-confident and smart."

"You're all of those things, too."

"I'm not beautiful, and I'm definitely not smart."

"You are too beautiful." Violet pulled Amy up and put her in front of her mirror. "Look."

Amy was a small, curvy girl with pretty, blue eyes and naturally blonde, curly hair. A typical American Beauty. Violet was more foreign-looking due to a distant Spanish ancestor. She had light brown, curly hair that fell to the middle of her back, contrasting nicely against her surprisingly pale skin. Violet had hazel eyes—more brown than green—that were framed by thick, black lashes, and rosy cheeks. She was tall and slender, reaching almost five foot eight. Because of her towering figure, everyone stared when she walked into the room, and she looked down on some of the shorter boys in her class. All in all, she was a striking individual.

But Violet wasn't complaining.

Violet frowned at her friend. "You're just as pretty as me, if not more."

"Yeah. Right. I see a typical blonde clone. Blue eyes. Big boobs. You're a unique beautiful. Exotic kind of."

Violet snorted. "At least you have boobs." Her B cups were practically non-existent next to Amy's Ds. Or, at least that was what Violet thought.

"Trust me. You don't want them. All the guys see them"—she pointed to her boobs, then up to her face—"instead of me..." she paused for a second, looking away. "Well, except Drew."

Violet's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding me. Drew?" Was Amy on drugs?

Amy grabbed Violet's hands, her blue eyes wide. "Stop. Stop what you're thinking right now. Forget everything you've ever heard about him. The rumors aren't true. He's a nice guy. He doesn't do drugs, his SAT scores are fantastic, and the reason he skips school so often is because his mom is really, really sick. She has cancer."

There was a long silence while Violet processed the recent information. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "It must be so hard for him…if anyone I knew had cancer…God…all those terrible things everyone says about him…things I said about him. I'm a horrible person."

"It's okay, Violet…I thought those things, too."

"How do you know all this stuff about him? How long has this been going on between you two?" Violet asked.

Amy blushed. "Three months," she muttered.

"Three months? You kept this stuff from me for three months! Some best friend you are!" Violet scoffed, turning away.

"Look, I'm sorry. I just…I thought you wouldn't approve."

"I'm not even going to respond to that," Violet replied, exasperated. For a minute all you could hear was Amy's fan clink-clink-clinking away. "So," Violet began, "Is he a good kisser?"

Amy laughed, and they continued their conversation. A few hours later they settled down, their eyes heavy.

And just as Violet was about to fall asleep, Amy asked her something.

"Violet?" Her voice was unsure. "Can I ask you something?"

Violet rolled over so that she could face her. "Of course."

"Are—are you anorexic?" Violet could barely understand what she was saying she spoke so quickly. Amy was avoiding her eyes, looking past Violet's shoulder.

"What?" Violet exclaimed. Where had this come from?

"I-I said, 'Are you anorexic?'"

Symptom number two.

Patients with AML often have several non-specific (generalized) symptoms. These can include weight loss, fatigue, fever, and loss of appetite. Of course, these are not specific to AML, and more often are caused by something other than cancer.

--American Cancer Society

"No, I heard that part. I meant, what the hell are you thinking? God, Amy. When have I ever, ever, ever, cared about my weight?" If anything, Violet had thought she was too thin.

"Never," Amy said, "But, Violet…have you seen yourself lately? Weighed yourself? It looks like you've lost five or six pounds in the last three weeks. You're pale and you have these new circles under your eyes. It's really weird."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Violet yawned, unable to control her tiredness. "But I am not anorexic. I promise. Now go to sleep."

"I just wasn't…" Amy sounded unsure.

"Good night, Amy," Violet said, exasperated.

Amy sighed. "Good night."

Violet fell asleep, completely oblivious to the mutant, monster cells inside her bones, working every minute towards her death.

Violet passed the rest of the weekend without incident, watching movies, going shopping, baking. There were no more dizzy spells or mentions of anorexia. When Violet left, Amy cried, and Violet promised that she would call her if anything interesting happened, as long as Amy promised to do the same. Which Amy did, of course.

Violet drove home in her old bug, blasting eighties music—her own personal favorite. Violet loved driving.

When she finally made it home she greeted her parents happily, and lugged her suitcase towards her room. Her house was at the end of her street, nestled snugly into the forest. Violet, who had grown up in the suburbs of Seattle and had always had another house in her back yard, liked to look out of the window into the trees.

On the way down the hall, Violet saw her sister, Sophie (Sophia, to be exact), on her bed reading. "Hey, Soph! What's up?"

She looked up at Violet, irritated. "Oh. You're back…Great," she said sarcastically.

Sophie had inherited their mother's blonde hair, small stature, pale skin, and intelligent grey eyes. She had a small, round nose, faintly dotted with freckles, and tiny, white hands, callused from holding a pencil. Her hair was normally pulled back into a low ponytail and she had a shy look about her. Completely different from her older sister.

"You know, you're awfully sarcastic for a twelve year old."

She shrugged and said, "Not really," before returning to her book. "And I'm thirteen, not twelve," she added, her eyes still on the page.

Violet sighed, and continued towards her room. How could she, Violet, be related to Sophie? They were practically polar opposites.

Sophie was biting, put-together, and introverted, always deep in her books, while Violet was social, optimistic, and had the tendency to be a bit emotional. Sophie was also the most intelligent of the family, as she had an IQ of one-forty-eight. This meant that Sophia was legitimately a genius. She had been given the option of skipping two grades, but opted to only skip one, as she did not want to be "too socially immature compared to her peers" or something like that. Violet was a straight-A student, but compared to her sister she might as well get straight C's. Sophie was in ninth grade now, and was taking three AP courses, something that Violet didn't even know was possible for a freshmen. The point being that Sophie was smart. She was the type of person to walk up to you while you were watching Titanic or The Princess Bride and inform you that love was only a raised level of some chemical in your brain.

Violet turned into her room. It had light blue walls, wood floors, and four windows. Outside the windows, you could see the forest that dominated most of Forks. Violet's bed was right beneath a window so that when she woke up in the morning she could see tree branches reaching across the gloomy skies. Her room was spacious and would be easy enough to rearrange. She loved it.

Violet dumped the contents of her suitcase onto her floor, telling herself she'd pick up the mess later. She fell back on her bed and stretched out, wiggling her long fingers and painted toes. She listened to the rain outside and sighed happily.

Violet thought about Caleb and his warm sarcastic eyes, his washboard abs, and his ability to make her laugh until she was heaving for air. He had been assigned to show her around school on her first day and had invited Violet to sit at his lunch table. His friends were great, people she could easily get along with and he was in most of her classes. Most importantly, Caleb was real. He was the only Quileute Indian that attended Forks High School; the rest attended the school down in La Push. When Violet asked him why he didn't go to Quileute Tribal School, he told her that his older brother, Brady, and his friends had quite a reputation in La Push and that most of the kids there were either scared of him or idolized him. He said that at FHS he could start over and have people judge him for who he was, not for who his brother was.

But something prevented her from seeing Caleb as more than a good friend...She wasn't sure why exactly, Caleb was better boyfriend material than most other guys she had dated, but whenever she looked at Caleb there was not even a twitch of butterfly wings in her stomach. It was strange.

"Violet! It's time for dinner!" Violet's mom called from the dining room, interrupting her thoughts.

She jumped out of bed and went to join the rest of her family for dinner. Her sister's spot at their table was empty, of course.

"Boca burgers. Yum." Violet smiled.

"Did you have fun at Amy's?" her dad asked.

"Yeah, we saw that new romantic comedy, um, the one about the best friends in elementary school, and then they meet again and one's engaged and the other one was preparing to propose…It was pretty funny."

"That's good…" her mother said distractedly. "Sophie! It's dinner time! Answer me if you're listening!"

Anne Clark was a severe-looking woman. Her stern grey eyes commanded all attention and her posture cut through all silliness. Despite being shorter than everyone in her family besides Sophie, she was always in charge. Violet had always tread carefully around her mother, even if her mother was being, well, stupid, because Anne Clark had a bite ten times worse than her bark. And her bark was bad as it was.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming! Let me just finish this chapter," Violet's sister called from her room.

"Max called yesterday," Anne said.

"Really?" That was strange. Max had only called this year on holidays and on their birthdays.

Violet's brother had been ecstatic when he could finally move out of their house that year for college, and had avoided all contact with his family, if possible. It was only on their mother's insistence that he called at all. He was extremely independent and private, and had nearly killed their parents when he was in high school; he had gone out late every weekend night, his grades had been terrible, and he had snuck out all the time. He had been the guitarist in a band with twenty year olds in it, he'd had a girlfriend every week, and Violet was pretty sure that he had been the occasional drug user.

He wasn't always like that, though. He was the ideal older brother before the eighth grade. He would take Violet roller skating with him, and buy her ice cream with his own money. He even helped her with her notes for music class. Violet had idolized him. They had very similar personalities, too. They were both open and laughing like their father, and not like their mother at all, who was serious and single-minded. Then Max's best friend, Joseph, died in a devastating car accident. Max had been in the car, and had seen Joseph's crushed skull, oozing brain, and broken neck. He'd never been the same since.

Initially, he was extremely sensitive. Anything would set him off. He refused to go to see a counselor despite their dad's pleas. Then, something in him darkened, hardened. At first, it wasn't so noticeable; he began wearing the same outfit every day: a black t-shirt—usually with a band logo—and dark wash jeans. And then he began to listen to heavy metal and screamo, something he had never listened to before. Violet's brother had actually had quite a taste for classical music and jazz—he was the only musical one in the whole family. The rest of Violet's family all listened to popular radio stations, except for Sophie who believed that modern music rotted the brain. She had received Max's old classical CD's when they were replaced.

Soon, Max had scary, older friends with tattoos and multiple facial piercings. They preached anarchism and went to rallies against setting any laws that "oppressed the American people everywhere." Such as gun restrictions and the law banning marijuana. Eleven-year-old Violet hadn't liked his new friends. When they came Max had started to ignore her, and pushed Violet aside whenever she asked to go anywhere with him, telling her that where he was going was for "big kids only." That was also when he started to attend late night parties, sneak out Violet's bedroom window, and…well, you know the rest.

Violet missed her big brother.

Before her mother could answer, something occurred to Violet. "Oh, my God! Did he get arrested?"

Her mother's mouth dropped open, and Sophie, who had just slouched in, snickered.

"Wow. You know you're a failure as a parent when your own daughter asks if her brother has been arrested," her dad commented, sounding slightly amused and aghast all at the same time. His wife glared at him.

"Violet Julianne Clark, you're brother did not get arrested. How dare you even think that?"

"Sorry," Violet muttered.

"Actually, he called to tell us he was switching his major," her mother said shrilly.

Great. Violet grimaced. Her mother was set on her son becoming a lawyer, just like her. Mrs. Clark had worked her butt off to get Max into a college with a good law school, what with his terrible grades and all. She would not be happy with the idea of Max switching his major. Still, Violet was proud of Max for doing so because Max wouldn't be happy as a lawyer, and that was much more important than her mother's happiness where his career choice was concerned.

"To what?" Violet questioned cautiously.

"Music education," her mother said through her teeth. Violet saw her dad shrug his shoulders and grin beside her mom. He hadn't really approved of forcing a major on Max when Max had already felt oppressed by adult figures. Violet's dad, Dan Clark, was a psychiatrist. Because of this, Violet had often been puzzled by the utter disarray of her family. Her dad had explained to her that it was easier to fix problems when you weren't emotionally involved, and that even if this wasn't true, there would still always be something wrong. He didn't believe in perfectionism. Unlike Violet's mother.

"Oh," Violet murmured.

"He wants to be a music teacher," Sophie said with a lilt. She obviously found this extremely entertaining. Violet knew what she was thinking, though; how was Max going to become a music teacher with a nose ring and a tattoo? Of course, the same probably went for being a lawyer…

"I mean, what is he thinking? Doesn't he realize how little money he'll make? How he'll struggle to support himself? This is terrible." Violet's dad was still grinning beside her mother.

"I bet he'll be happy though," Violet attempted.

"Happiness doesn't give you the necessities of life!"

"Actually, I would say that happiness is a necessity of life, mom. I've read about it," Sophie contended, her eyebrows raised. Violet could tell her sister was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Sophie refused to deal with her mother when she was like this. Frankly, Violet sometimes wished that she had the guts to do the same.

"Do not give me those smartass comments, young lady," her mother snapped.

Sophie took a bite of her burger to hide her smile.

Violet's dad got up and began to give her mom a back rub. "I'm sure that Max will be perfectly fine. Now, let's just enjoy our meal."

He settled back in his chair to eat. Violet had already finished. There was a long pause in conversation.

Finally, Sophie spoke up, "I took another IQ test yesterday and received a score of one fifty nine."

"That's great, Soph," Violet replied with fake enthusiasm, not caring for this much at all.

"I am now only five points away from being considered a high genius."

Well wasn't that just fantas…

Violet started to feel light headed. Suddenly there were two Sophies in front of her. She blinked furiously. God, stop it! She gripped the table. Thankfully, Violet's vision eventually turned back to normal.

"Can I be excused?" she asked shakily.

"Yes," her mom replied curtly. Violet picked up her plate and placed it in the kitchen sink, before heading to her bathroom. She splashed her face with water and examined herself in the mirror critically. Amy was right; she did look really thin, and there were deep circles under her eyes. Looking at herself, she wasn't surprised now that Amy had accused her of starving herself. Maybe she needed to sleep more. That would explain her dizziness. Violet frowned at her reflection and then went to her room. She grabbed her iPod and lay back on her bed, confused. Violet didn't think she wasn't getting enough sleep. And she wasn't starving herself. Maybe the move to Forks was stressing her out or something. Or maybe she had lost weight because of her walks to and from school. Or something.

Or something was right.

There was a knock on her door.

"Come in."

"Hey Violet." It was her dad. "I just want to talk to you."

"Sure." She sat up and patted a place on the bed beside her. "What about?"

Dan Clark sat down slowly, breathing out a long gust of air. Like he was really old. "I hope you know, Violet, that you can choose to do whatever you want to do."

"I know that," she answered, confused.

"Mom just…she just gets worried about you kids. She wants to keep you safe by being in control of everything. And I just want you to know that it doesn't have anything to do with her trust in you or anything you've ever done wrong." Oh, it was about her mother. Her father didn't need to worry. Violet understood her mother well.

"I get it, Dad. Remember when Mom would only let me out of the house with that backpack filled with bandaids, extra change, and instant icepacks."

Dad grinned. "Of course I remember."

Violet smiled with him. "I hated that thing. I always hid it in the bushes outside. Thank God that only lasted a month. She got so mad when she found out I hadn't been wearing it. I think she's much better now, anyway."

"She is."

"She's just really worried about Max. I don't blame her. I'm worried about Max," Violet admitted.

"Max is…I really wish he'd have agreed to see someone. Eventually he'll realize that he can't run away from the accident. And then he can start the healing process."

"It's been six years, Dad. I don't think he's ever going to get better."

"Now I know that that's not true. And you know that's not true, Violet."

Violet looked away. "I know," she said softly, "I just miss him sometimes."

"Me too, Violet. We all do," her dad replied sadly. "It's getting late." He got up. "Night, Violet."

"Night, Dad."

The next day Violet woke up with a terrible cough.

Symptom number three.

A shortage of normal white blood cells (leukopenia) increases the risk of infections. A common term you may hear is neutropenia, which refers specifically to low levels of neutrophils (a type of granulocyte). Although patients with AML may have high white blood cell counts due to excess numbers of leukemia cells, these cells do not protect against infection the way normal white blood cells do. Fevers and recurring infections are some of the most common symptoms of AML.

—American Cancer Society

Her first word: "Unnnnnnnggggghhhhh."

She glared at her clock. Well, fantastic. She had forgotten to set her alarm and it was now seven o'clock. School started at seven twenty. Violet cursed, dragged herself out of bed, shuffled into her bathroom, took one look in the mirror, and cursed again. Her hair was a big, frizzy, curly nest of knots, her nose was red while her eyes were watery, and she had an imprint of the pattern on her comforter on her face. Lovely. Violet groaned loudly.

She was so dead.

She wrestled with her hair for a second, managing to get it into a messy ponytail, and hastily applied makeup. She went into her room and pulled on a big Seattle Seahawks hoodie and jeans. Violet took three deep, soothing breaths, before grabbing her back pack and rushing towards the front door.

"Bye, Mom!"

"Bye, sweetheart!" Her mother called from her office.

She jogged to school despite her cold and the fact that she was aching all over.

Symptom number four.

About 1 out of 3 children with leukemia will have bone pain. A smaller number will have joint pain. This is due to the buildup of leukemia cells near the surface of the bone or inside the joint.

--American Cancer Society

Oh, it was also drizzling, and Violet's rain jacket was hanging on a hook by her front door. Why hadn't she driven to school?

Violet made it to school at seven eighteen and slipped into class three minutes late. Thank God her English teacher was nice.

"Having a bad day?" Caleb teased from beside her.

"Shut up," she grumbled, and buried her head in her arms.

He chuckled.

In class they were reading the Shakespearian play Othello. Thankfully Violet had read it at her old school, so she didn't mind sleeping through first period.

Violet woke when someone nudged her shoulder. "Wake up, sleepyhead. You're going to be late for math. Something that you definitely don't want to do, I assure you."

Violet groaned. "Go away, Caleb."

"C'mon, Violet, you're drooling on the desk."

Violet was suddenly very, very awake. "What?" she said sharply, raising her head and swiping her arm over her mouth. Her image was important, you know.

Caleb laughed at her frazzled expression. "Jeez, I was just kidding. What? Do you normally drool?"

Violet relaxed, then laughed. "God, Caleb, I thought you were serious."

He shook his head, grinning. "No. Now get up. Miss Cleveland is going to kill us."

"I hate that stupid class," she muttered, before getting out of her seat and following him out of the room.

"So, what's up? Did you party late last night or something? Got a hangover?"

Violet glowered at him. "No. You know I don't do that stuff. I don't know what's up with me. I have a cold."

"That sucks."

"I know."

Luckily, they made it to class on time. Violet made an effort to focus; pre-calculus was a killer if you didn't watch out.

Caleb and Violet walked out of class with relief an hour later.

"Did you understand any of that?" Caleb questioned her.

"Yeah. All you had to do was use that shortcut she gave us."

He shook his head at her in disbelief, his black hair falling into his eyes. "I wish I was smart."

Violet rolled her eyes. "I am not smart. I mean, have you met my sister? She's five points away from being considered a high genius."

"You're smart." He stopped in front of his next class.

She scoffed before saying, "Have fun in Spanish."

He smirked. "Have fun in French."

Violet beamed at him before turning on her heel and heading for French.

You know, Violet really, really liked him. He was a great guy. Sometimes she wished it could have worked out between them.

Or that somebody else had ended up with him while she knew him.

Just saying.

A/N: Hey guys! How'd you like it? I know, no Collin. But I promise he'll be in the next chapter!!! I'm sorry about the long AN. Bear with me, please. FYI: This is Ava speaking.

Firstly, I've worked my butt off researching for this story, but I may have gotten some facts wrong. If so, please tell me!

Secondly, I will try my best to update every two weeks. I promise. If I haven't updated in a month, feel free to PM me a polite reminder.

Thirdly, I am very emotionally attached to this story. If you read the dedication, you know that my grandmother died from brain cancer. When she was diagnosed (for the second time, the first was before I was born), I think I was only six years old. Brain cancer is an extremely destructive disease. If not treated, a person with it will eventually lose their ability to bathe themselves, their memory, their speech, etc. The cancer literally eats up the brain. It was a devastating experience for me. And, looking back on it now, I feel really sad that the only way I really know Sunni is through stories from my family. I only have a few vague memories of her before the cancer. And not that many of her with cancer. I wish that I could have gotten to know her better.

A lot of the memories I have of the time period are of the way it affected my family. One of my clearest memories is of my mother leaning against our old oven, sobbing. It was the first time I had really ever seen my mother cry. It's heart-breaking for a little girl to see their parents cry, as I'm sure you all know. My eyes tear up a little just thinking about it. I can also remember sitting outside my classroom door, crying, because my teacher was teaching our class cancer. It was really awful. And everytime someone else in my community is diagnosed with cancer or dies because of it, I think of this. So, I'm starting a project to help prevent cancer. And you can help!

For every review, I'm going to donate twenty cents to a cancer orginization of your choice. (So five reviews equal one dollar, and one hundred reviews equal twenty dollars.)

Here's how it works: For the next two chapters you guys can nominate cancer organizations in your reviews. Then, when I post my third chapter (a month from now), I'll have a poll up asking your favorite of the nominated cancer organizations. You'll have another month to vote. Before I post my fifth chapter, I will have donated the money you guys raised in those two months. As proof, I have started a youtube account (ProjectPFT) where I will show a video of me donating online. Then, we'll do it again for the next two months and chapters 5-8. Will I continue after this? I'm not sure. Any questions? PM me.

Another--smaller--thing that I want to do is start a Cancer Survivor list and a Gone But Not Forgotten list and dedicate this story to those people (I'll put it up at the top of every chapter). If you want to put a name on the list, put it in the review. It can even be just initials. I can also put the date diagnosed and the date of remission/date of death. Additionally, I welcome stories of your experience with cancer. I might even quote part of it in future author's notes if it stands out to me.

Nominate!!! Review!!!