A/n: Grrr… I just wrote a long A/N and then my Word shut down! jumps around yelling out swears). Sorry, LOL. Thank you all sooo much for reviewing! 60! Yay! Let's see if this chapter will get us to 70! I'm in such a good mood, I feel like responding to everyone who reviewed Chapter 10. So I will.

Sea4Shoes: We klutzes gotta stick together, LOL. Which means… read and review! like you did last chapter (thank you very much!)

I-Believe-In-The-Butterflies: Have I ever mentioned that you won the prestigious 'Most Creative Penname I Have Ever Seen' award? Well, you have. throws confetti I feel bad for Marissa too, things are only gonna get worse…

atomiccounty: Thank you! I'm glad you like the story. I like Jordan, for a boy, too. I'm, like, drawn to J names for boys. I dunno why, but I am.

GallotMaster: Thank you! Thank you! I wasn't sure if I felt I did the trial well enough, but you obviously liked it, so I am satisfied (it was ten pages long. Whoa). I shall now go put on my best-trial-writer-EVER crown. Whee.

slimkay: Thanks! Glad you liked it. I surely shall continue it.

iluvryan: That teacher is suspicious… I'm not sure if he will be making any more appearances, however.

IluvDanBen33: Thanks! My ankles, by the way, is much better, although I told my mom it hurts like hell and she gave me like four hours online.

kursk: hehe… she may get past the teasing soon, but don't worry, trouble is brewing in the future of Marissa Cooper. Soon. Very soon. As in, this chapter.

Lobs-Stacey-Ters: You go to an OCHS? Cool. Is it Orange County, Florida? Just wondering. Hope I didn't offend you (or anyone) last chapter with that.

Dogsbody: LOL, love your description of Smith. We shall soon see (ooh, tongue twister) if Sandy gets him good or not.

WARNING: I am telling you now; you DO NOT have the right to kill me after reading that chapter. (You do have the right to review, however, and tell me that you want to kill me but love my story anyways :-D)

Everything was going to be all right, Marissa assured herself as she glued a cotton ball on her homemade yarmuclaus. Things would eventually turn out okay.

So far, however, they had not. Marissa had been 100 percent right when she had predicted what was going to happen. People did whisper about her behind their hands as she walked down the hallway. She had felt like Rizzo in Grease when some girl came up to her, and exclaimed loudly to her friends: "See, that's Marissa Cooper, the one I was telling you about!"

It sucked.

She was eternally grateful to Ryan, Summer, and Seth for their relentless friendship and love, but sometimes they couldn't even take away the pain. She had gone from Miss Popularity to Miss Outcast. The particular evening, of December 24th, she had been feeling down and depressed, and had holed herself up in her room. It didn't help that Kirsten, Sandy, Seth, Ryan, and Summer were all laughing and talking loudly in the kitchen, as they prepared for Chrismukkah (Christmas had, coincidentally, fallen on the fourth night of Hanukkah this year) the next day.

She had secretly been happy when Seth came to her room to force her out of her little retreat. She soon found herself laughing amongst the others, as they made yarmuclauses. Chrismukkah, she decided, was just the thing to bring her out of her microcosm (a/n: microcosm means your own little world. Microlittle. cosmword. And I didn't make it up. It's in the spell check).

After about a half-hour, Seth tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, Marissa, we're out of cotton balls and that little white fluffy stuff that goes around the bottom. Can you run out and get some more?"

"Why me?" she protested. She was finally having fun.

"Well, I asked Summer, and she said no, which I wasn't going to argue with, and when I said little white fluffy stuff to Ryan, he asked me if I was gay. So, that leaves you."

She heaved a sigh. "Fine. Where do I get it at?"

Seth shrugged. "Wal-Mart?"

She rolled her eyes, and grabbed the keys, kissing Ryan n the cheek as she headed out the door.

She was on the highway, heading to the nearest Super Wal-Mart, when she noticed the headlights. It was not unusual to see headlights at night, but the odd thing was, the were coming her way. She shrugged it off, thinking it must be a weird street lamp or something,

Fifteen seconds later, she realized that it was most certainly not a streetlight. It was a car, a truck, on the same side of the road as her, but driving the wrong way. She tried to move into the next lane, but everyone was in there now, they had realized the mistake way before she had. She looked left, right. Nothing. Nowhere to go. Oh, God, what could she do?

The truck barreled towards her, going a hundred miles an hour. She caught a glimpse of the drivers glazed eyes, before she squeezed her own shut.

8888888888888

Ryan was laughing at some joke Sandy had just told, when the phone rang. He picked it up, still laughing, not bothering to look at the caller I.D.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hello, may I please to Ryan Atwood?" a professional male voice asked.

He stopped laughing. "This is him."

"Mr. Atwood, I'm Dr. Fletcher, here at the Orange County Hospital. We have here a… Marissa Cooper. We found your name in her wallet and-"

"What's Marissa doing in the hospital?" He gripped the phone tightly.

"Ms. Cooper has been injured in an automobile accident."

"What?"

"At approximately nine o'clock this evening, Ms. Cooper's car was hit by a drunk driver."

"No." he said. This couldn't be true. No. No.

"We have her in ICU right now, so if you could please come to the hospital right away please, that would be good. It's urgent."

A dial tone filled the phone, as Ryan slowly hung up.

"Chino, what' wrong?" Summer asked. "It looks you just got hit by a car.

"Marissa." was all he said.

"What about her?"

"She-she… she was in a car crash."

Summer's eyes popped. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know. I have to get to the hospital." He grabbed the nearest set of keys and set out fo the car at lightening speed.

Summer ran to catch up to him, getting in the car as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Summer," he said, not taking his eyes off the road. "What are you doing." It wasn't a question.

"I'm coming."

He sighed resignedly. "If you're coming to the hospital with me, then shut your door.

She blushed and slammed the passenger side door closed.

"What did they tell you?" she asked.

"They said that her car was hit by a drunk driver, and I needed to come down to the hospital because it was urgent."

"Did they say… if she's awake?" She held her breath.

"All they told me is that she's in intensive care."

"God dammit."

No one said anything else, until Ryan pulled ferociously into a hospital parking lot space.

Summer was out of the door before the engine was off. They ran into the hospital and almost crashed into the receptionist's desk.

"Who are you looking for?" she asked.

"Marissa Cooper," Summer wheezed.

The receptionist clucked her tongue sympathetically. "Ah, the poor child. Saw her when they brought her in, I did. All covered in glass… and blood…"

"Was she conscious?" Summer waited with bated breath once more.

"Sorry, dear. I'm afraid not."

"What room number is it?" Ryan asked.

"They're not allowing her any visitors."

Ryan glared at her. "I. Don't. Care."

She gulped. "Room eighteen."

They sped down the hall to her corridor.

"Stop," Summer gasped. "This… is… room… eighteen."

Ryan stopped and opened the door.

They were not met with a pleasant sight.

About six doctors were standing over a bed, muttering things like "collarbone, alignment one twenty," or taking a pulse.

Ryan moved a few feet to try to see Marissa. It wasn't pretty. She was covered in blood, and glass, as the receptionist had warned them. Her arm was twisted grotesquely, as if someone very strong had picked up her arm and twisted it around about six times. One leg was raised by a pulley-type thing attached to the hospital ceiling, and the other was wrapped heavily in bandages, that had blood soaking through them. One eye was bruised black and blue. But it was shut. Her eyes were shut. She was quite obviously unconscious.

"Oh, my God." Summer uttered aloud, not remembering that weren't allowed to be in there. As if on cue, all six doctors turned and faced them.

"Dammit, I told Claire not to allow any visitors!" one cursed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Ryan spoke directly to the one with the nametag labeled "Dr. Fletcher."

"I'm Ryan Atwood. You said I should come."

"Oh," said the first doctor, looking slightly disappointed. "What about her?" He pointed to Summer.

"I'm Marissa Cooper's best friend, and if you even think that you are getting me out of her room until she wakes up, you are wrong." She glowered at them.

"Ryan," Dr. Fletcher said, coming close. "Could I have a word with you?"

They stepped into the hall.

"How is she?" he asked immediately. Dr. Fletcher began to speak, but Ryan cut him off. "Don't sugarcoat it. I've got to know."

Dr. Fletcher heaved a massive sigh. "Things… are not looking good."

Ryan breathed heavily, cursing Seth for making her go out at night, in her condition.

Her condition.

"What about the baby?"

"It's… seeming pretty grim."

"Is it worse for the kid or Marissa?" He had to know.

"To be perfectly honest, it about the same. I'm going to let you know, right now: The odds of Marissa making it through the night are very, very, slim."

Ryan Atwood was not a crier. Atwood's did not cry. He had not cried when his brother died, he had not cried when his mother left, and he had not cried when Marissa got pregnant.

But now, a tear slipped down his face. He was crying.

He brusquely brushed the tear away. "What if she does… make it tonight? Is she going to have better… odds… then?"

Dr. Fletcher shook his head. "I don't know."

Ryan wanted answers. He grabbed the doctor's clipboard and hurled it across the hall. He slammed the wall with his fists. "Don't tell me that!" he yelled. "I need to know! And if you're not going to tell me, then I'm going to go find someone who can!" He turned away.

Fletcher called him back. "No one knows."

"What do you mean?"

"When I said I don't know, I meant it. We don't know. We can't predict anything yet."

Another tear ran down his cheek.

Summer came outside, her eyes red and her face blotchy.

"Did they tell you?" she asked softly.

He nodded.

She started crying again, her face soaking wet with tears. "What are we going to do, Chino?" she asked. "What if she…."

"She won't."

"How do you know?"

"I just do," he lied.

He went back into her room, and pushed the doctors that were crowded around Marissa's bed away. He sat down in the chair next to the bed, taking her hand.

"Marissa," he said. "Marissa, please wake up. Please. We need you. Summer's a mess. I'm a mess. Please, please wake up. For me. For Summer. For the baby. Please, please, please open your eyes."

Her lids remained shut, as he continued to talk to her. The doctors backed out of the room, leaving the two alone.

"I'm going to be right here, until you wake up. You have to wake up. The doctor said you might die. You can't. It's not possible. Two hours ago, you were sitting in the kitchen, gluing yarmuclauses together. We have to go make more yarmuclauses! We still need more! You have to help us."

Ryan spent the whole night, next to his girlfriend's side, talking to her or the baby. He didn't even realize he was tired until at nine o'clock the next morning, Summer tapped him on the shoulder, and told him to get some rest.

"I can't."

"I'll stay here."

He yawned, and noticed the cot on the other side of the room. "Okay. But I', not leaving the room. I'm sleeping right here." He raised his voice. "I'm here, Marissa. I'm not leaving."

He fell asleep in seconds, and Summer took his place talking to Marissa.

"Coop," she began. "I don't care how much pain you are in. You have to wake up. Right now. Chino will never sleep more than five minutes for the rest of his lie if you don't wake up. And I'm sure that you want him to be there for the birth of your child, and they will so not let him do that if you are in a coma."

No response came from Marissa.

"Marissa. If you die, I will personally kill Seth for making you go out. And I really, really, really do not want to have to kill him. So wake up."

Kirsten, Sandy, and Seth were waiting in the (surprise!) waiting room.

Sandy was pacing back and forth, while Kirsten cried into a Kleenex, and Seth uncomfortably read a magazine article on how good broccoli is for your colon.

"Do you think she'll wake up soon?" Seth asked, after reading the colon article sixteen and a half times.

The receptionist answered his question. "Oh, no, dear, not for a while yet. Why, those poor children who came in last night looking for her, they must have been so disappointed when they found out about her coma."

"She's in a coma?" Kirsten exclaimed.

"Well, naturally, usually after a life-threatening injury like that, the body shuts down, and-"

"When's she gonna be up?"

"Anytime from now to a few years," the receptionist replied.

"A few years!" Seth shouted. "Are you kidding me?"

"Shh, Seth, lower your voice, people are staring." Kirsten chastised. "Sandy, will you go with me downstairs? I'm hungry."

Sandy nodded, and they left the room.

"Get some broccoli!" Seth yelled after them. "It's good for your colon!"

His words had barely disappeared into the air when Summer came down the hall, her hair messy, her eyes red.

"Hey," he said softly, as she sat down next to him. "Are you okay?"

"No, Seth, my best friend is practically dead, and I'm fine. Just peachy," she said, tears rolling down her face.

"I'm sorry," was the best he could offer.

"You better be, you ass!" she said, poking him in the chest. "It's your damn fault!"

He sighed. He knew that Summer would feel that the blame lay on him.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and Summer buried her head in his shoulders and cried.

A group of men wearing scrubs ran across the room, yelling things to eah other in doctor-language.

"What was that?" Seth asked the receptionist.

She looked worried. "The patient in room eighteen stopped breathing."

"Holy shit," Summer breathed.

"What?" Seth asked.

"That's Coop."

A/n: Whee! Cliffhanger! I love it. does cliffy dance. Will Marissa live? Will sheh ave the baby? Will the Range Rover ever be driveable again? Did the Cohen's get broccoli? (it's good for your colon, you know) Find out all of this and more in the next chapter of The Difference!