A/N: This is dedicated to a girl in my school who has cancer. I do not know her name, or anything about her, but it must be difficult to endure all that she does on top of homework and school-related work. I really hope that she is doing okay.

Anyways…this is probably just a one-shot. It's also probably different than anything else you've read…so yeah. But if you like it let me know. And if you think it's worthy to be continued, by all means, let me know. Because it could have a few more chapters…

Go over there! Go…go! Do it…what are you waiting for? Go talk to her! She's all alone; it'll mean the world to her…go!

Cody Martin's stomach twisted and turned as he stood in the school hallway like everyone else, waiting for the bell to signal approval to visit their lockers. The feeling was all too familiar, sinking into his skin comfortably, as if all its previous trespassed visits suddenly made it welcome.

His heart sped up as he glanced her way. For a split moment, he was sure she'd caught his glare, that their eyes had locked. His breath hitched and he tore his eyes from her direction. He could have smacked himself.

Stop! She'll think that you are being rude! Didn't Mom teach you anything? Never stare, no matter how tempting it is! Don' t look again! No! Wait…perfect opportunity…go over there!!

He heaved an enormous, dissatisfied sigh. He yearned to walk over to her, to say something…anything. To…to what? Make a friend? Be a friend? What if she didn't want a friend? What if she preferred to be alone? What if the last thing she wanted was comfort—especially from a stranger?

And why exactly did he desire so bad to do this? Why did he feel so at fault for just standing there? Because she was all alone, while everyone else had their own group?

As he glanced around at all the people, it was certainly true. Everyone had a group, a clique--a place to belong. Everyone that was, except her.

A pang of guilt so intense that Cody could have fallen over from shot directly into the center of his chest. He knew that he couldn't be the only one that noticed. The girl stood out like a sore thumb. One strike being that she sat alone, and her appearance being strike two. Her illness was no secret. So did it have more to do with that? Her condition? Or did he simply care because his name was Cody Martin, a sensitive- natured person?

He was almost certain that he wouldn't bother going over to her if she weren't alone, so he settled for the loneliness reason. It was an issue he could relate to. He didn't have friends, either. Despite the fact that he was standing with Zack, Bob, Tapeworm, and Max, he felt undeniably lonely. They were millions of miles apart from him, and they had been ever since the start of High School. The only reason he stayed was so that it appeared to the outside world like he had friends. It was too humiliating, too embarrassing to stand or sit down against the wall with no one by your side.

At least if someone was with her, he'd know she had friends. People that didn't allow her sickness to block them from being her friend. But she was alone. And no matter how much effort he put forth in attempts to deny it, it hurt him.

Was she unhappy? He couldn't tell. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't frowning. Cody was the one frowning. How could she come to school on top of all she endured? No doubt it must have been a tragic day when the last strand of her hair fell from her scalp. It amazed him, because there she sat, not bothered by the fact that no one wanted to talk to her.

No one…so how could Cody just stand there, blending in with all the others? How dare he allow his thoughts to reverse the actions that he desperately wished to take?

But what would he say if he were to go over to her? 'Oh, hi! I'm Cody and I decided to just come over here since I saw you were alone!'

No. She wouldn't like that. He wanted her to think well of him, not conclude from the start that he was some maniac probably on drugs. If he settled for just, 'hi', that might work. But after 'hi', he'd be lost. She could be the type that only talks when asked a question. It would look pretty pathetic if he said 'hi' and then walked away without another word, now wouldn't it?

Or she could be the type that felt extremely defensive about her sickness. What if she assumed that he only mustered up courage to speak to her because he felt sorry for her? Then she'd hate him and he wouldn't even get a second chance.

Maybe I won't go over there after all…too risky…

But he needed to go…he wanted to. He had to go over to her. Yet he couldn't—his feet refused to respond to his brain. He was petrified on the spot, unable to move even a fraction of an inch.

But if he didn't go over there, who would? No one--that's what the back of his mind told him. He'd be just like everyone else in this school. Pretending that they didn't see her… pretending that she wasn't sitting alone…pretending that they did not know. He would be an insensitive, uncaring jerk, something that he strived not to be. He wasn't insensitive, and he wasn't everyone else. He cared. The problem was, he cared too much.

No. It wasn't so much that he cared too much. It had more to do with because he was scared. That was why. And as long as he over-cared about how people saw him, so much that it prevented him from talking to that girl, he might as well have been named Zackary Martin. At least then he wouldn't feel pressured and he wouldn't care in the first place.

What really scared him was that someone would talk to her, but it wouldn't be him. Why he wanted it to be him, he couldn't for the life of him figure out. How selfish really. If he wouldn't do it, someone should! Someone that wasn't petrified and glued to the floor. He honestly couldn't move. At this rate, the only way he'd ever talk to her was if they casually bumped into each other.

But this…him making the first move…it was asking too much. He was asking too much of himself. And he hated the fact that he was. Another pang if strong, sickening guilt developed inside his chest as the school bell rang and she raced off down the hallway, out of sight to her locker.

Cody nearly chocked on a sob. Again, he failed a task that no one but himself had brought on. No one expected him to talk to her. So why did he feel like it was his sole responsibility? Why did it matter? Why did he get so caught up over it? Why did his brain make him suffer with severe guilt the rest of the day?

Unanswered questions. Every one of them. All he knew was that he'd undergo the same process the very next school day. And the next one. And the next one. Every time he saw her, the same thoughts played with him, and the same outcome happened.

Hopefully, eventually, he'd gain enough courage and plunge for it. Surely the real thing wouldn't be as bad as his thoughts were making it out to be. He wasn't giving the girl enough credit. She was human just like everyone else, was she not? A teenager, just like him.

Slumping against the wall, he closed his eyes, clearing his mind in another attempt to lessen his despair…his utter disappointment.

Tomorrow he would talk to her…tomorrow…that's what he always agreed to. He hoped that this would be his last 'tomorrow'; because every time he said it, it occurred to him that she might not be there tomorrow. Call him a pessimist, but what if she made an emergency visit to the hospital in the middle of the night? What if she never came back?

He prayed that her sickness would not control her, that she would be able to get better. That she wouldn't just get taken in the middle of the night…he wasn't ready for that, and right now he couldn't bear the thought of coming to school and finding out that she'd been taken from the Earth, that she would never graduate… he would never be able to look himself in the mirror again. He'd absolutely never forgive himself.

Please, God—give her another day. Just another day, a healthy day! I'm begging you, please…I'm so sorry…let me do the right thing…just please…another day…please, God, please…