DECEMBER 22

I sat back on my couch in my room, sipping my Fresca. Willow had been right; it didn't really taste like a diet drink. It had become my new favorite. I could drink it whenever I wanted without having to worry about taking a shot, and it didn't taste like a diet soda. It was a win-win.

"Adrian, we need to figure out how to defeat that stupid manticore," I said, as we paused the game again. This was the fourth time we'd nearly been killed by that stupid creature that was terrorizing the village. It kept killing villagers, and we couldn't move on to the next level of the game without defeating the manticore first. But everything we had tried so far had failed. None of my spells worked on it. Tommy's knight's sword just glanced off of its body without harming it - only making it mad. The charisma skill that helped Adrian's king character get past most obstacles did absolutely nothing the manticore.

"I know, but I can't figure out how. Everything we've tried has nearly gotten us killed," my best friend replied.

We'd been lucky not to have had to restart the level. But we'd had a bunch of close calls.

"There are no cheats for defeating the manticore," Tommy said. "At least, I haven't been able to find any."

I sighed. "This is stupid. There has to be something. There has to be some way to defeat the stupid thing."

"Oh, hey," Ty began. "What about that small entrance over there? To the left of the main entrance to manticore's cave? I bet we could sneak in through there and take the manticore by surprise." He took the game off pause and charged straight into the hole before we could warn him that it was probably booby-trapped.

"No!" Adrian, Tommy, and I all yelled.

The screen showed a flashing white light, and then we were all transported to the beginning of the level. It had taken us a week to get to the end of the level where the manticore was, and now we were going to have to start all over. Sure, it wouldn't take us as long this time, but still. It would probably take several days.

And that was why Ty was still a freaking squire.

"Tyler!" I yelled, groaning. We had been so careful not to be killed, and he went and ruined it all. I covered my face with my hands.

Which made me realize that my hands were shaking. Badly. I'd been too focused on the game earlier to notice it, which wasn't good. Stuff like that could put me back in the hospital.

"Guys, hold on a minute. I think my bloodsugar's out of whack. Actually, just go ahead and play without me."

"You sure, dude?" Adrian asked. "We can wait while you take care of your bloodsugar. It's really not a big deal."

"Nah. Go ahead. I feel like I might be low, and I don't know how long it will take me to get back into range. See if you can find some information somewhere about defeating the manticore."

I saved my character's place and left the game, pulling off my headset. Then I pulled out my test kit and tested my bloodsugar.

Sixty-four.

Which meant that I need some fast sugar. I stood up and went into the kitchen. Mom tried to make sure that we had plenty of juice, in case I needed it. She bought a different flavor each time, it seemed like. Technically, they said that orange juice was the best. But so far, they all seemed to work the same for me, as long as they had a lot of sugar.

I grabbed the grape juice from the fridge and poured myself a glass. I drank it quickly. Then I leaned against the counter to wait for the shakiness to go away. It would probably take at least fifteen minutes, then I'd have to test again to make sure the juice was bringing my bloodsugar up enough. If it wasn't, I'd have to drink more juice and wait another fifteen minutes to make sure it was working.

I looked down at my left wrist. Dad had ordered me a braided leather medical bracelet as soon as I'd been diagnosed. I'd been wearing it since a couple days after I got home from the hospital. It was important for me to wear it in case I passed out because of high or low bloodsugar, and there was nobody around me that knew that I was diabetic.

I was having a hard time seeing it as anything other than just another stupid reminder that my life would never be the same.

"I hate this!" Frustrated, I took the bracelet off and threw it. It slid across the floor, stopping when it hit Dad's foot. He had just stepped off of the stairs near the kitchen.

He scooped up the bracelet and walked into the kitchen holding it. After a minute, he said, "Well, you could have just told me that you didn't like the design I chose."

I sighed. He was just teasing me, I was sure. "Sorry. It's not that I don't like the design. It's a nice medical bracelet, but it's still a medical bracelet."

I could tell by his face that he understood exactly what I wasn't saying. "And you hate the fact that you have to wear it at all," he said, guessing my thoughts perfectly. "You hate that you have to test your bloodsugar and count carbs and eat when you're low and not eat much when you're high. You hate all of these things that you now have to be aware of that you didn't have to think about before. I don't blame you one bit, buddy."

"How did it even happen? I mean, there is no history of diabetes in Mom's family. None."

"What about Jon's family?"

I shook my head. "I asked. He said there's no history of it on his side, either. Well, he does have a distant cousin with type two. But he's only related to that cousin through marriage, so it wouldn't have an effect on me. Besides, it was type two, not type one."

"I don't know, Stryk. It must have been something in the combination of Mac's and Jon's genes."

"Yeah. I guess. It still sucks."

Dad chuckled, giving me a one-armed hug. "Yeah, it sure does. But it's a big part of your life now. Being mad about it won't change it."

"I know," I grumbled.

He held the bracelet out to me.

With a sigh, I took it and put it back on.

One really interesting thing about type one diabetes is that nobody really knows what exactly causes it. They think it's autoimmune disorder, but they're really not sure. For most people who have it, they think it's something in the genetics. I know that's probably what it is in my case. I don't have any history, really, of type one in my family. I did have a grandmother who was insulin dependant, but I think it was because she didn't take care of her type two diabetes and later had to be put on insulin. I have a lot of type two in my family. No type one. Except me, my younger sister, and my younger brother all three have it. All three of my mom's biological children. So with us, I'm pretty sure it was something in the combination of my mom and dad's genes. But I've heard of one guy who was an alcoholic, and the alcohol ended up destroying his pancreas, giving him type one diabetes. It's crazy. And just so you know, eating a lot of sugar does NOT cause diabetes! I hate that assumption, because it's so not true.