I met him on a Saturday. The first Saturday of February. Grace, my half-sister and her step-father took me to the local hospital to volunteer so I could earn the last eight community service hours I needed to graduate. I had just started my last semester of high school down at Grant and had fallen behind on my requirements. Grace was the same age as me. We were actually a month apart. Her birthday was in June and mine was in July. Grace never fell behind on anything. She wanted to become a doctor like her step-father, Dr. Bowman.

Grace and I have the same father. George Jeurgens. My dad was married to Grace's mom Kathleen but he cheated on her three weeks before finding out she was pregnant with Grace. They got divorced right after Grace was born and my dad married my mom Anne, the woman he had slept with and conceived a baby with while still married. Two years later, my parents had another baby girl and named her Ashley. The doctor who delivered her was Dr. Marshall Bowman. He wasn't an OB/GYN but a paediatrician. Ashley had been born premature and Dr. Bowman was sent to the rescue. Kathleen had been at the hospital for moral support and claims that's when she fell in love. I highly doubt it. He is rich. Very rich.

I remember the morning of our first confrontation because of the song on the radio. 'Haven't Met You Yet' by Michael Buble was playing. This was one of my all time favourite songs and Grace had convinced me a long time ago to believe in omens. I stood before my closet debating what to wear. What do you wear to a hospital filled with sick children? Suddenly, I heard a knock at my bedroom door and turned to see the usual bubbling Grace leaning on my door frame.

"Come on Ames" Grace chirped "Dad's waiting"

"He's your dad, not mine. I'm only going with you on your weekly visit because I need the hours" I snarled back. I know I was extra cranky that day though for the life of me, I can't remember why.

"Didn't I promise you that you were going to love going? Now come on. What you have in your hands is fine. These are sick kids under the age of 12, not the Oscar nominees."

I watched Grace leave the room and quickly threw on the outfit that hung on the hanger in my hand. I was down stairs within three minutes and was kindly handed a blueberry bagel and a coffee by Dr. Bowman. He had insisted I call him Marshall but I refused. Dr. kept him at a distance which was as close as I wanted to get.

"I picked it up on the way over here." Dr. Bowman mumbled, referring to the breakfast "Grace just loves blueberry so I figured you wouldn't mind one either"

"No. It's great." I stammered. I really did like blueberry but he had gotten whole wheat to satisfy Grace's health obsession and I hated whole wheat. In my opinion, bleached bread was the only way to go "Thanks"

We got in the car and drove for what seemed like forever. The car ride seemed extra long because my ipod battery had died on me the moment after pulling out of the driveway and I was left alone in the backseat to hear Grace and her step-dad giggle about some comedy show on television. By 9, we were at the hospital. I had only been here three times before. Once when Ashley was born, once when I was five and had sprained my ankle flying off a trampoline at a friend's house and last year when my dad and I had come to pick up Grace from an afternoon with Dr. Bowman.

Dr. Bowman signed us in at the front counter on the third floor. This was the paediatrics floor. Dr. Bowman had some rounds to attend to and sent Grace and I, name tags in tow, into a large rec. room filled with a bunch of kids in wheel chairs. Grace said they were the terminally ill. Which meant they were going to die if they didn't get exposed to a cure or find a transplant of some kind. It made me sick to think that I would most likely live longer than all the kids here.

Grace introduced me to some of the nurses in the room, along with some parents. The parents are what struck me the most. Most of them couldn't have been any older than 33 and yet, their faces made them look so old and tired. These parents had been to hell and back and were sill fighting with all they had left to keep their child alive. It made me think of my own parents, and how lifeless they had been when Ashley was a newborn.

Grace started some of the kids off with crafts. Most of them weren't allowed to hold scissors being heavy bleeders and too weak to cut. So Grace and I did most of the work, following the directions of where to stick what and how. By 11, I was exhausted yet completely thrilled. This place was amazing. It really made me hate myself for thinking Grace was crazy after all those times she had invited me to go. One by one, the children were wheeled back to their rooms for lunch and a nap. Only a few of the older children remained. Grace left the room to go find her dad for some lunch money which was when I began pacing the floor.

I circled the nurses station and peered into some empty rooms with the doors left open. When I returned to the rec. room a few minutes later, Grace still hadn't returned. I disappointedly sat in one of the chairs next to the large door and that's when I saw him. Sitting there, all alone. You could tell he was deep in solemn thought by the way he gazed out the window. He hadn't been there before. Had he? I would have seen him if he was. Curiosity got the better of me and I stood up from my chair and began making my way towards him.

His wheelchair was parked next to the large glass window that let light into the entire room. His right arm leaned on his armrest and he rested his head sideways in his right palm. The winter sunlight streaked across him so beautifully, I could see every strand of his short, curly brown hair shimmer in it's vastness. I stood behind him, not making a sound. I didn't dare to move until he did. He stayed frozen for such a long time I was scared he had fallen asleep… or worse. Finally, he lifted his head with a sniffle and turned to his right, catching a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eye.

"Wh-What?" He whispered "Oh Sorry, I thought you were a nurse"

"Nope" I said with a weak smile "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be standing here like this. I'll be going now" A part of me was totally embarrassed. For one reason, I think I had genuinely startled him. Isn't there some kind of rule that says you can't wake a daydreamer? No wait, that's sleep walker. For another reason, he was so adorable. He was slightly pale but you could barely see it through his dark tan. His lips were a light shade of pink and his eyes sparkled hazelnut. He looked like an angel.

"No wait. Where are you going to go? It's a small floor" He joked "I'm sorry. Did you need something?"

"No, I'm just waiting for my sister."

"Grace?"

"Yea, how did you know?"

"She comes here almost every Saturday to see the kids. I come in here some days when my room gets the better of me. She said she had a sister around her age coming in today so I just assumed"

"So you're a patient?"

"Four years running."

"You don't have to tell me" I said quickly. Did I even want to know?

"No it's okay. CF. But that's my disease. My name is Ricky"

"Amy"

"Nice to meet you Amy. How come you've never been in before. You'd think with a sister like Grace, you would have been in here months ago."

"I'm kind of busy, with school…"

"It's okay, I get it. This place can be real scary at first"

It struck me how well Ricky knew me, and how open he was to talking. I was about to falsely retaliate in denial but didn't get my chance. Ricky's face turned white and his eyes bugged out of his head. His threw his hand up to his mouth and doubled over in his chair, hysterically coughing. From behind me, I heard my name be called and saw Grace dash to Ricky's side before I had the chance to move.

Grace pulled the oxygen mask that was hanging off the left handle of the chair and held it onto Ricky's face. I hadn't even noticed the mask before this nor had I noticed the large oxygen tank that sat on the edge of the chair at the back. Grace helped Ricky sit back up in his chair, his light blue robe all wrinkled, and handed him the mask which he held tightly to his face. I still remember the faint muffled coughs that escaped from his chest underneath the plastic guard.

Grace pulled me outside of the rec. room and ordered me to stay put while she found a nurse. She returned a moment later, fuming mad.

"What the hell Amy?" She barked

"What, I didn't do anything!"

"You didn't think to hand him the mask?"

"I don't know! I panicked! That's why I didn't want to come before this. I knew I'm no good!"

"It isn't a matter of being good or bad. These people are dying Amy. You've got to be careful"

"So he is?"

"What?"

"Ricky's dying?"

"Yes. Why the hell do you think he's in here?"

"I don't know. He said he had CF and he seems so much older."

"Cystic Fibrosis Amy. His lungs are failing him. He's nineteen. And the only reason he is still in peds is because my dad is his doctor. My dad has been caring for Ricky since he came here four years ago coughing blood. Ricky's parents are in jail and his single foster mom lost her banking job three years ago. She works nights at the car factory downtown but only a small portion of her pay check goes to Ricky's bills. My dad and the hospital find a way to cover the rest. That's why it is so important that he lives Amy. You can't go around standing still if someone needs help"

"I- I didn't know. I'm sorry" I was shocked. His story made me want to cry. To my left, I saw two nurses and a doctor push Ricky out on a gurney, an orderly following close behind with Ricky's empty chair. A part of me was tempted to follow and see which room Ricky was in but I knew Grace was already peeved and hungry so I reluctantly followed her downstairs to the cafeteria.

That night, I laid in bed with my mind running circles around me. I couldn't stop thinking of Ricky and what had happened in the rec. room. I felt so terrible for standing still and even worse for not knowing what to do for Ricky. He seemed like such a nice guy yet life had dealt him every wrong card in the pile. I knew there was no way I was falling asleep that night. I pulled away my covers and crept over to my desk, grabbing my laptop and opened a window to Google. Without thinking, I typed into the search bar 'Cystic Fibrosis'.

The next morning, I woke up with a slight migraine. Probably it had something to do with the four hours I had slept. I had stayed up half the night researching CF and was pretty sure I had had nightmares after finally turning off my computer around 4 am. I had to get back to that hospital somehow. Grace was at her mom's house for the rest of the week and Dr. Bowman was home for the day, being that Sunday's were his only day off. I quickly showered and got dressed in a similar outfit to the one I had worn the day before. I grabbed a twenty off my dresser for bus fair and breakfast and was out the door after leaving a note on the kitchen table.

I got to the hospital by 10:10. The place was just as busy as yesterday. Grace had once told me that the Emergency room had a lot more patients on the weekends with late night partiers and drivers. I didn't know if it was true, but it sure seemed legit to me. I took the elevator up to the third floor and walked up to the nurses station. I lied saying I had left my jacket here the day before and wanted to have a quick look around. The nurse remembered me from yesterday and told me to take all the time I needed. She doubted I would find it but wished me luck either way.

I thanked her and followed a hallway that trailed into the same direction Ricky had been pushed to yesterday. A few of the room's were open and I began peeking inside each one. I didn't know what I was doing there exactly, but all I knew was that I had to see Ricky again. The last two rooms in the hall were smaller than the others. The one on the right was locked so I turned my attention to the other one with it's door opened halfway. I peeked inside and caught a glimpse of a young man under his covers. I think my heart skipped a beat.

I lightly knocked on the door, testing to see if Ricky would open his eyes. He seemed to be lost in a deep sleep but I had been wrong before. Heaven behold, he opened his eyes right away and looked up at me, surprised. His shock disappeared within seconds and was replaced by a smile.

"Hey You" Ricky whispered, not daring to get up. He was exhausted even though it seemed like he had slept all night.. unlike me.

"Hey. I just wanted to stop by and apologize."

"For what?"

"You know, not being able to move when you had that fit"

"Nah. Don't be sorry. I was having a bad day yesterday. I should have kept the mask in my hand instead of somewhere I couldn't reach"

"Grace really let me have it"

"Don't listen to her. I'm glad you stopped by. I kind of wanted to see you again. All I know about you is your first name"

"I wanted to see you too. I hope you don't mind but Grace explained your situation to me"

"I figured she might. It's okay. Enough people know by now. If I'm not okay with it, I don't think I ever will be"

"I have a couple of questions for you but you don't need to answer them all today. You don't have to answer them at all. I'd hate to make you uncomfortable or worse, be lectured by my sister again."

"No, it's fine. Ask away. But on one condition" He stated, forcing himself to sit up

"What?" I took a step forward

"I get to ask my questions first"

Another Step. "What do you want to know?"

"How old are you?"

"18. My birthday is in July. You?"

"19. My birthday is in December. Will you leave me your number?"

"That depends. Do you have a phone?"

"They let me have it on good days. Other days, I'm too sick. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Of course I do. Me and the nurse with the purple laces are like this" He teased, crossing his fingers

"Come on." I said laughing, slowly sitting down at the foot of Ricky's bed

"What?" He chuckled "... Okay. Next question.. Are you scared to kiss a CF patient?"

"No. Are you scared to kiss an obsessive compulsive C minus mess?"

"Maybe, You know someone like that?"

"You know what I mean"

"I know what you mean and No, I'm not, because I don't know anyone like that. All I see is this pretty girl who doesn't know what she does to people. You're special Amy."

"You can tell all that just from our two conversations?" I said moving closer to Ricky so that we were a ruler's length apart

"Of course I can."

"How?" I asked, leaning in even closer. I could feel his breath on my cheek

"You came back." He whispered, pulling me in from the back of my neck

"One last question" I whispered, our noses touching

"What?"

"Are you scared to die?"

"I don't know" He said, as our lips touched "Ask me Tomorrow"