AN: Another one of my "yay, lets take former charges and distort them!" one-shots. I hope I don't offend anyone with some of the stuff in here. Yeah.
Disclaimer: I don't own Amanda, the BSC or anything. Well, except the writing. Yeah.
Amanda Delaney really, really hates clichés.
That's why in the twelfth grade she cut her hair and died it strawberry red so she wouldn't look like the platinum goody-goody rich girl that she had been all her life. That's why she stopped getting fake nails and that is exactly why she ditched Louis Vuitton in favor of American Eagle. While American Eagle is preppy it's not as preppy as Louis Vuitton, and really a girl can only change so much overnight.
What good are clichés anyway? That's her personal mantra. Clichés are dumb. They are overused--obviously-- and repeated so many times they are almost devoid of any meaning. Amanda is the romantic type of gal and unlike most romantic types she isn't for the whole dozen red roses deal or candy hearts. No, Amanda believes that if you love someone you use your brain and think of something original.
She could be an artist, really, with her mind set like that but Amanda shrugs. She could barely draw flowers, God knows what would happen if you added paint.
When Max gets diagnosed with acute leukemia she thinks that this is all a tired cliché and of course he'll get better and everyone will be happy and it'll be like in those dumb movies where all he has left is some scars, memories and a good war story. Maybe she hates clichés but she barely bothers to think about this one because it is quite obvious that is what's going to happen.
Right?
That's what Amanda thought, too.
She tries to ignore the fact that he's rapidly weakening and all the treatments aren't helping him. She ignores this because there will be a miracle. She knows it. She can feel it.
So really, her ass of a boyfriend may have dumped her and her brother might be withering away with cancer and as an added bonus she's getting an F in almost all her classes but she refuses to let herself become any more of a cliché and slice her wrists like so many girls at school do because it's almost become a fucking fad. It's pathetic and no matter how low Amanda has fallen she refuses to drop those extra feet.
Then one day in the middle of class Amanda is called down to the office and she knows. She knows exactly what happened. She packs up her stuff and it takes a day to walk down to the office because she knows and she doesn't want to turn it into a reality.
She goes down to the office and they tell her. But it didn't actually become a reality until she went home and found Max's empty room, saw his report card on the kitchen table and looked at the fucking family picture on the wall that she finally let it sink in that he was dead.
No war stories. No scars, no memories.
Amanda Delaney really, really hates clichés but suddenly she's looking down and her wrists are crying and her razor is bloody and that's when she realizes that she doesn't give a fuck about clichés anymore if it means finding an escape.
