Jade has a stroke the next day.
On Tuesday, Beck finds out from Tori who'd found out from Cat who hadn't come to school Monday. Jade is in the ICU—Tori grimaces here when passing along the story—she hasn't gained consciousness yet. Her doctors aren't sure. The news echoes throughout the hallways, but Jade's absence is invisible by second period to anyone who hadn't seen her so assuredly alone on a park bench not too long ago.
The uncertainty of the future crashes over Beck like a wave. He wanders through the rest of the day disoriented and staring at listless clock hands.
After the last bell, Beck finds Cat. She is pressing her cheek and hands against Jade's locker, either wanting a hug or trying to telepathically communicate to the girl through her belongings.
"Cat? Cat, are you all right?"
Cat slumps to the ground, a scissor's imprint fresh on the side of her face. "That's what Jade used to call me!" she weeps. There's more, but Beck can't understand her through the wailing.
He joins her on the floor as she catches her breath. "You know, I talked to her Sunday."
"What did she say?"
She'd lied, Beck thinks, because here is this girl right in front of him, this girl in pieces, trapped and terrified, and how could Jade have ever assumed that she wouldn't be missed?
.
Once he's sure that Cat can manage her way home, Beck leaves school and follows his normal routine. While his mother is preparing dinner, he sets the table and sweeps the kitchen and asks if there's anything else he can do to help.
No, she waves him off, everything is fine, thank you. Beck looms over his mother's shoulder as she cooks. She turns to face him expectantly, so he recounts the terrible tragedy of Jade West's current condition along with the terrible tragedy of the optimism, or whatever's left of it, dwindling like a dying flame.
A sympathetic smile blooms as her eyes droop at the corners. "I'm sorry to hear that, Beck, did you know her well?"
"I could have." He wants to, at least. "Did you see her in the spring showcase last year, a duet with that girl with the bright red hair?"
His mother stares at him blankly.
"She sang something that went like … " He tries to hum it, feeling self conscious because, well, he can't quite recall it himself and ends up squeaking out a tune not unlike Lady Marmalade. "... you can't win ... give it uuuup."
His mother is now staring at the ceiling, trying to recognize the melody. She ends up apologizing, as it had been a little while ago, honey, and there were so many performances. She admits to only partly remembering Tori's song.
Tori had gotten the finale slot. He tells her that it's okay. "Jade is really talented though."
Then suddenly struck by an idea, Beck rushes to retrieve his yearbook and raises Jade's photo close to his mother's face. She frowns and lowers the book, her aging eyes slightly squinted. Beck has this brief moment of feeling old while his mother scans the page, dolefully murmuring the words "too young."
/
Wednesday, Beck walks into homeroom to overhear his classmates share fond memories of Jade. She was hilarious at improvisation, they all agree, her lower register was phenomenal. He's surprised that she'd helped Andre with some song lyrics. No one mentions how she once ripped Rex's arm off or that she dumped coffee on Tori's head in middle school, but they think about them until someone says, "She was mean, but she didn't—I mean doesn't! Doesn't deserve to die."
Beck frowns at the idea of people deserving to die, but maybe he hasn't seen enough of the world.
Cat suggests making a banner for Jade to show their support, so Beck drives her to a Walmart to pick up materials during their lunch period. She also insists that it's to be black, but she adds pink paint and glitter in assorted colours to the cart.
They take a detour to the pharmacy section after emerging from the stationary isle so that Cat can check her blood pressure. She waves the numbers 118 and 78 on the slip of paper around gleefully. ("I'm healthy!" she announces to a passing sales associate.) Beck offers to treat her to some candy on their way to the cash and she picks up a bottle of vitamin gummies, gives him two once they reach his car.
After school, there's a good size gathering of supportive peers in the library to sign the banner. Sinjin paints a portrait of Jade using instant espresso and glues it in a corner. Beck doubts that notes like "We love you" and "Get better" will lift her mood or convince her that the world cares, but the stuffed clown that Cat's turned into a vampire might. He doubts that Jade will believe that he cares. Most likely she'll claim that it's guilt-induced pity. He'll give anything to convince her it isn't.
.
And after that:
His emotions are still a tricky, tangled mess, but he figures that death isn't complicated: you are until you aren't, the Earth keeps spinning regardless. He's encountered it before when his great aunt passed away to cancer. However, having been seven and simple-minded, he'd only suffered his mother's sadness and a vague feeling of loss.
"Hey, Beck, where are you?" Tori is saying, carrying his thoughts back to her living room.
"Right here." He pokes her in the stomach to prove it.
"You seem distracted."
"Sorry."
She pouts, looking concerned before stretching out on her orange couch and resting her head in his lap. "Thinking about Jade? It's nice that you've been spending time with Cat."
"Yeah, it's been hard on her. I've missed you though. I should have called last night."
"No, it's okay." Tori is upset, he can tell even though she's facing the television. She never actually explains why. He only found out she legitimately hated noogies after a year of believing she'd been playing along. "It's been hard on you too, right?"
"I wish I knew her better."
"Beck," she laughs weakly, "we can't know everyone," and finishing with a pensive tone: "Jade had—she has other people in her life. They knew her, loved her, made her happy."
He tries to believe her, he does, but this past Sunday refuses to let him go. It follows him everywhere, a small child tugging on his hand who wants something but can't ask for it.
"I'm glad I know you," Beck says. Tori squeezes his knee.
.
And after that:
Beck invites Cat over to his RV. They attempt to be productive, willing the mundaneness of schoolwork to swallow their unease momentarily.
"Did you give her the poster?" he questions.
"I gave it to her mom," she sighs and chews on her eraser. "I didn't get to see her."
So they work until Beck feels his brain brimming with tangent lines and limits. "Tell me more about Jade," he asks Cat, slumping on top of his textbooks to listen comfortably.
She doesn't take more than a couple of seconds to start:
Jade's birthday is in July, but she won't bring it up so you can't forget it. She hates the ocean, the salty breeze, the soft roar of the sea, no, Cat doesn't understand it either, but there'd been a dolphin incident. She hates too much, doesn't love enough except for coffee with two sugars. She dreams of the city of neon and chrome. She says the best defense is a good offense. She'll know what to do in case your brother is ever attacked by a Canadian mailman. She doesn't have a dad. He didn't die, he left, she can't call him her father anymore.
"Oh," Beck says. Cat returns to her essay.
He thought he'd known Jade, the bitter actress who sat by the window, defined by her cruel scowl and macabre visions. Her coloured streaks changed more often than she'd spoken to him, yet somehow the same girl who'd made Tori cry into his shoulder is best friends with Cat Valentine, and he needed her here to make sense of it all.
He does know this, though, that despite the unsettling demeanor, she'd had a timeless beauty about her. She reminds him of an old photograph: vignetted and one of a kind, discovered in an attic, in a dilapidated box holding forgotten treasures that had once been important. He can't remember her smile.
Cat taps him timidly on the shoulder. Her voice sounds tired for the first time and there's an emptiness in her eyes that doesn't belong. "Do you think somehow she's happy?"
"How?"
"She didn't want anyone to watch her die. I kept telling her I wouldn't look. I hope she wants to come back, Beck, I hope she wants to see us one last time." I hope, I hope, I hope, Cat keeps repeating throughout the night like a broken doll. He feels her grief in his bones.
.
And after that:
Beck settles into bed, contemplating what he'll say to Jade when she wakes up, dreaming about what she'll say back.
In the morning he's already forgotten most of it, but it doesn't matter anyway because Jade passes away at noon. (Her life, how ever much of it she was allowed to live, may as well have been a movie, but not that kind of movie.)
His shock condenses into a sadness that curls just under his sternum. It's how the world works, he supposes, there are miracles and then there is Jade.
/
He sees her family's faces at the funeral, wishes Jade could see them too. The little boy is very young. When Beck was that age, he could count all his regrets on his fingers.
He moves back under his parents' roof for a month. Time marches forward and eventually he hears of other deaths, mourns them too, always moving on once he can.
Years later, he'll start writing a screenplay about a boy and a girl who perhaps should have met before because then they could have had more time to—to do what, he ends up not knowing, but the possibility of something was always there.
He doesn't live the life he once planned (only sometimes he does, in his head, when he can't sleep and the moonlight is soft and when yesterday is more inviting than tomorrow), but nevertheless, you know, he's still living.
Sorry I lied with that old summary. You should read chasingafterstarlight's Of Linear Timelines and Infinity if you want a good Jade/Beck/cancer fic with romance.
Originally this chapter was only supposed to be that last part, where she died, but thanks to circuswheel I was inspired to write the rest. Thanks to readingrainbows too for looking the whole thing over and being so wonderfully nice about it.