On Tuesday I'm supposed to start my second semester. Mom and Dad leave for the practice before I'm even out of bed. I wander downstairs slowly, pulling on a sweater and yawning as Nigel stumbles down the stairs beside me.

"Where are our roommates, buddy?" I ask groggily.

The only thing he's interested in is getting outside, as he stands by the patio doors and stares at me. I let him out and go back to the kitchen, opening up the fridge. Stuck to the Tropicana container is a Post-it from Mom, telling me that they left early and didn't want to wake me, and that I should meet them there when I'm up.

I fill Nigel's bowl, let him inside and go upstairs to shower and get dressed.


It's only a few weeks until Christmas, but before the 25th comes the 18th: Jamie's birthday. She would have been 17. I keep trying to push the thought from my brain, but it's persistent, bombarding me constantly, wondering what I'll do. We've spent every birthday together since we were seven. I'm scared to think about this day, encroaching like a slowly filling pool.

As I drive to the practice I spot Christmas decorations that seem to have sprouted up overnight. Store windows and people's houses are festive and inviting. Radio stations play sporadic Christmas songs until I shut it off altogether.

When the elevator doors open onto the practice, the waiting room is full and I see Norah, the receptionist looking harried. I slip past and go to Mom's office, but she's not there, so I go to Dad's and see him filling out a chart.

"Where are you keeping the sour candies these days?" I ask, slipping in.

"Hey, sweetie," he smiles, getting up to hug me. "How did you sleep? You looked dead to the world when I looked in this morning."

"Yeah, I guess I missed my own bed," I reply. He kisses my forehead. "Where's Mom?"

"I think she's talking to Violet," he replies, closing his patient file and putting it in the Finished tray. "We've got your schedule all made up, but she's got it. You wanna get a drink or something from the kitchen?"

"Sure," I nod.

He slings an arm around my shoulders as we head over to the kitchen.

"So, Mom told me you were asked to prom," he teases.

I roll my eyes. "Of course she did."

"I think it's great," he smiles. "You should absolutely go. And Axel is the only male under the age of 30 that I actually trust."

"That's deep," I reply drily.

He laughs as he pushes open the kitchen door.

"Hey, you," Amelia grins. "How's home treating you?"

"So good," I reply emphatically. "I never realized how incredibly fantastic my bed was until I wasn't in it for weeks."

"Months," Dad corrects.

"So you're gonna stick with home-schooling?" Amelia asks, as Dad hands me a bottle of water.

"Yeah," I shrug. "I kind of like it."

"I don't blame you," Amelia agrees. "High school is not the greatest time of your life, no matter what any cliches say."

I laugh. "Yeah, I can see that. Entertaining, but...I'm excited to graduate. Early."

"Oh yeah," she nods. "You can probably finish pretty early, with your pace. Like by March."

"Hopefully. What do you mean, my pace?" I laugh.

"Hey, it's not an insult," she holds up her hands. "You are among fellow nerds."

I shake my head, smiling, as Dad holds up his hand like Spock.

Norah pokes her head in. "Dr. Freedman? You're 10:00 is here."

He nods at her and hops off his stool. "I'll see you in a bit, honey."

He squeezes my arm and leaves to see his patient.

"Sorry, babe, I gotta run, too. I have a brain to examine," Amelia says.

"Yeah, that's what they all say," I reply.

She smiles and heads out. I take my bag and go to sit out on the couch outside the kitchen. It's not in the waiting room; it's kind of hidden around a corner, so people can wait for patients who are seeing doctors without sitting in the waiting room itself. There's already a girl there.

I smile and settle into the other end of the comfortable couch. She attempts a small smile, but is clearly miserable.

I pull out a book and read, while waiting for Mom. A few minutes later I hear a sniffle. Quiet, like it was attempted to be stifled, but couldn't be. I glance up and see the girl, tears pouring down her face. She looks to be about 14 or 15.

Wordlessly, I pass her a Kleenex from the table beside me.

"Thanks," she manages.

"No worries," I reply quietly.

I glance at her and she looks down. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be...loud."

"It's okay," I shake my head. "Are you...I mean, what's...going on?"

I don't want to pry, but she seems like she wants or needs to talk.

"My mom," she says after a moment. She holds up and then drops a fist. "She's in there. With Dr. Montgomery."

"She's a great doctor," I say. "Really. One of the best."

"I know. Mom's seen her for awhile," she almost whispers, balling the Kleenex into her fist. "She needs it. The best doctor, I mean."

I close my book, and wait.

"She has cancer," she says after a second. "Ovarian."

"I'm sorry," I reply.

"It's been...years. She was doing okay for awhile...remission, y'know?"

I nod.

"But now...I don't think things are looking up."

"Addi-Dr. Montgomery will do whatever it takes," I try to be optimistic. "If anyone can do something for your mom, it's her."

She nods, tears falling silently.

"It's just us," she goes on. "My mom and me. We're all each other has."

I'm not sure what to say, but I don't think she wants to hear anything; I think she just needs to talk.

"My dad left when I was young, like three or four. And...well, it's just been Mom and me since then. She's my best friend. You know how other girls just seem to hate their mothers?"

I nod. "Yeah. I've never understood it either."

"Are you and your mom close?"

"Very," I nod. "I tell her everything."

"Me too," she says, examining the Kleenex in her hand. "Everything."

She sighs, trying, I'm sure, to quell the tears.

"She got sick when I was 10. For the last five years she's been fighting...so hard. She was in remission for a long time, but...it's back. It spread. It started in her uterus, so they took it out. Then they found it in her gallbladder, so they took that out too. Part of her stomach, one of her kidneys...then she was okay. She was...normal. Like she'd never been sick at all. Her hair grew back...blonde," she smiles here. "It's always been dark, like mine, but after chemo and radiation, it grew back blonde. How weird is that?"

"A lot of girls would love to have their hair magically grow in blonde," I smile.

"No kidding," she laughs, small.

It's quiet; she looks up towards Addison's office.

"I'm not sure she's going to make it now. I mean...there's not much else inside her that the cancer can eat now."

I swallow; her words too descriptive and scary. All I can think about is, what if it was my Mom?

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do," she looks at me, straight in the eye. Hers are deep brown, like her hair, and full of fear and heartache.

A door opens and we both look up to see Addison and a pale, thin woman emerge from Addison's office. The woman has sunken cheekbones and a protruding collarbone, and her once-beautiful face is framed with a colorful headscarf.

The girl stands up quickly, worry all over her face. One look at Addison says it all.

The woman tries to look happy, but her daughter doesn't fall for it.

"No," she whispers.

"Jessica, no," her mother comforts. "Don't."

She holds her daughter as she cries. Addison's own eyes look glassy as she glances at me and then looks at the floor.

"What can we do?" Jessica demands.

"Take me home," her mother asks. She's strong, but you can see that she's resigned now, to her fate.

Jessica swallows. Nods.

"Are you sure, Charlotte? I can have a bed ready for you by the time you get to St. Ambrose," Addison says.

My eyes dart to her as she says her name. Charlotte.

"No," Charlotte shakes her head, slowly. "Thank you, Dr. Montgomery. I'd just like to go home."

"Well," Addison hesitates. "You have your prescription. Make sure you let me know when you need more. They're strong. They'll help with your pain."

Charlotte nods, attempts a grateful smile, but even that seems to hurt her.

I swallow, looking over towards Mom's office, but she's still not there. I feel like I need to see her, right now.

Jessica grips her mother's arm protectively, gives me a sad look. I can only look back, my face telling her how sorry I am.

They turn and she slowly guides her mother towards the elevator.

Addison sighs.

"How long does she have?" I ask quietly.

"I don't know," Addison shakes her head. "Honestly, I'm surprised she's still even...walking."

I look at her, and then at the floor. I rub my forehead, not wanting any of this in my head.

"You okay?" Addison's hand goes to my back.

I nod. "Yeah, I'm just...tired, I guess."

"How's Jessica? Was she talking to you?"

"Yeah, she's..." I sigh. "Terrified."

It's the only thing I can think of; it's the only way she really looked.

"Her mom's name...it's Charlotte?" I frown, my forehead furrowing as it does when I'm trying not to think of something terrible.

"Yeah," Addison replies quietly, rubbing my back. "Close to home, huh?"

I nod, rubbing my hands on my cargo pants, looking around for my bag. I feel like just waiting in Mom's office until she's done with Violet.

We hear a shout and a thump, look over to see people crowding around the elevator. Near the floor, in the sea of shoes and legs, I see the colorful headscarf.


By the time we get to the small crowd, Addison is calling to Norah to call an ambulance and then demanding people to move aside. I can hear Jessica crying, calling to her mother to wake up.

"Mom! Wake up! Please!"

She's shaking her shoulders, but Charlotte's eyes are closed and her lips are that sickly pale blue.

I swallow and watch as Addison tries to get Jessica to move aside a little bit, so she can better help Charlotte. She looks at me, hard, and I understand.

I go farther into the crowd and reach Jessica, bending down to my knees.

"Come on," I say quietly. "Let's let Dr. Montgomery help her."

I place a hand on Jessica's arm, but she angrily throws me off.

"I can't leave her! I can't!"

I put my hand back again. "We won't leave her, we just need to back up. Let Addison help her."

Slightly defeated, she loosens her grip on her mother and exhales sharply, trying not to sob.

Sam and Jake have run out at the this point, trying to help Addison.

"How long's she been down?" Sam demands.

"Four minutes," Addison replies. "I'm not..."

She glances up at Jessica.

"I'm not getting a heartbeat," she says as quietly as possible.

"Addison," Sam begins. "Is this Charlotte Samson?"

Addison gives him a look and continues CPR.

"Addison," he says firmly.

"Shut up, Sam! Or help me," she says sharply.

I look towards the elevator, wondering where the ambulance is. But even I know, by looking at her, that Charlotte is already gone. She looked like the walking dead when she came in, and now her lips are a darker blue, and her skin is sickly pale and hard-looking.

I grip Jessica's arm, wondering how I'm supposed to comfort her when all I want is to see my own mother. I feel seven again. But she's sobbing, trying to breathe, and I can't ignore her. I turn her away from her mother, and she lets me. The fight in her is tired too.

"She can't die," she cries. "Not yet. Not yet."

I keep my arms around her and glance back to see what's happening.

There's nothing left of Charlotte but her emaciated, eaten body. I see, even as Addison stubbornly pumps her chest, that she's not going to get anything.

"Addison," Jake says, softer than Sam.

She glances up at him and he stares at her. She loses some of her fight, but keeps pumping Charlotte's chest, glancing for a second at the small crowd that has refused to dissipate.

"Look, you've all got to move back. Please. Go back to the waiting room," Sam says.

A few people start to move, but some just step backwards.

"Now!" Sam yells.

Everyone jumps and turns away, going back to the waiting room while frequently glancing back.

"She's gone, Addison," Jake says quietly.

"No!" Jessica screams, jerking out of my grip and spinning around. "No! You have to help her! You have to save her!"

She's back on the floor, grabbing at her mother, screaming at her to wake up.

I'm powerless against her. Jake steps in and gently takes Jessica's arms, slowly standing her up and turning her away from her mother.

He hushes her and hugs her to his chest.

She sobs. She falls into Jake as though her heart has left her chest and her legs have given up. She sobs the wrenching, breathless cries of someone who has lost so much, so suddenly.

All I can do is stand there, dumbly, as Addison continues her futile CPR and Sam stands up to assist the paramedics who have just arrived. It gets silent in my head as I watch the scene. I see Jessica sobbing, but I can't hear anything. I watch as the paramedics talk to Sam and Addison; as they begin to move Charlotte onto a board. It doesn't go unnoticed by me that they don't bother attaching a respirator to her. They don't take her blood pressure, or begin administering drugs. They already know, and Addison finally has to admit it, too. Her eyes swim as she stares at the floor and Sam talks to the paramedics.

Someone grabs me and then my face is in Mom's hands and she talking to me, but I can't hear. I manage to move my stare to link with hers and I see her green eyes, huge and worried; her mouth moving and her strong hands cupping my face.

I swallow, my body finally listening to me.

"Kati," I hear Mom. "Baby, say something."

I look over when I hear the loud sobbing that I'd managed to block out. Jessica is breaking in Jake's arms.

"Kati," Mom says again.

I look back at her; realize my cheeks are wet and her face is blurred by my tears.

"Her mom..." I start, staring at the floor near Jessica. "Her name's Charlotte."

"I know, darlin'," Mom grips my arms and then pulls me forward, sliding one arm around me as she leads me towards her office. "I know."

Dad's coming out of his office, hurrying over as we reach Mom's office door.

"What happened?" he asks, concerned.

"Charlotte Samson," Mom replies softly.

I see, out of the corner of my eye, as Dad looks over towards the elevator. I look too, and see them wheeling the gurney into the elevator; Charlotte's lifeless body upon it.

"Oh god," Dad sighs. "Right there?"

Mom nods, and we reach the couch in her office. I sit, staring over at Jessica through the blinds.

"You okay, honey?" Dad asks, worried. He kneels in front of me and squeezes my hands. "Hmm?"

I nod, after a moment. "Just..."

I shake my head.

"I know, baby," Dad hugs me. "I know."

I force my body to relax, but refuse to let my head turn to see Jessica. But I hear the elevator door close and it gets quiet, so I know she's gone.

"Charlotte was sick for a long time," Dad offers.

"I know," I reply. I inhale and make eye contact with him, because I know he's waiting for it before he'll believe I'm fine. "I know."

"I'll go get you a drink," he says, running a hand over my hair.

Beside me, Mom rubs my back.

"You alright?"

I nod.

"I don't...want this to sound the wrong way, but...I'm so glad it wasn't you," I say quietly.