Hi friends,

Thank you so much for your patience. I apologize that this has taken so long to get up. Things haven't been the best lately. I sincerely appreciate all of your reviews and kind words. This chapter is very unedited, so hopefully it's actually readable. I wanted to put it up after I got a reminder that people were still out there. I hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 8

Honestly, Kiara is surprised that she didn't need to ask Beca to drive them to the school rather than walk or take the subway. She figured there would need to be some sort of reminder that Kiara can barely walk down the hallway let alone walk three blocks to where the school is.

But, shockingly, none of that was necessary.

Instead, Beca simply waited by the door, looking at her watch or her phone every few seconds as Kiara tried to wrap her head around what she was going to need for the next seven hours. She hasn't been to an actual school building – hasn't been forced to sit through eight periods of classes, listening to various teachers' monotonous drawls – since the first grade. For the last eight years, she's had her classes taught to her by recorded video lectures, with ample time for breaks in between and pain medication and a nurse right downstairs in case she needed it.

Now she's going to be without those comforts for who knows how long.

So, swimming in her disgusting uniform that is far too big and is scratchy in just about every uncomfortable place possible, Kiara throws a notebook and pencil into her bag, and a few tablets of her pain medication, and makes her way over to the door.

Beca says something to her, still not quite looking Kiara in the eye like she hasn't been able to since she got to the Penthouse, but Kiara doesn't hear her. Not with the fog of fatigue and pain clouding her brain, and the nerves coursing through her veins.

The ride to the school is silent. Kiara sits in the passenger seat beside Beca, staring out the window at the busy city. She comes here every three months or so for her doctor's appointments, but as far as she knows, she's never been on the rich side of the city that she seems to be in now. Her eyes flick between the buildings and the people walking along the sidewalk, everyone with their own destinations in mind, while she dreads her own.

That being said, she is grateful that Beca doesn't try to push the conversation. Once they're inside the car, all Beca does is turn on her Spotify, and merges easily into the traffic.

Then again, Kiara isn't exactly surprised about that either. It's not like Beca has wanted to talk to her.

Kiara digs her nails into the palm of her hand as Beca pulls up to a tall, tan castle-looking building. Her heart rate quickens as she sees a sea of kids dressed similarly to herself, milling outside in the cool morning air. Between the entire student body standing outside of the school and the giant staircase leading to the main entrance, Kiara wills herself to melt deeper into the passenger seat.

"What do you think?"

Kiara holds back a snort. If the burning at the back of her eyes is any indication, she's great.

"Chloe and I toured here a few weeks ago. We met with the Dean and some of your teachers. They're excited for you to start."

Kiara grips her own hands even tighter, trying to hide the tremor in her voice as she continues to stare out the window. "I haven't gone to actual school in eight years. You know that, right?"

Beca stumbles over her words before saying, "I know. And I wish we could still homeschool you. But Kyle said that this would be good for you – that being around other kids would be good."

Without turning to look at Beca, Kiara's eyebrows furrow wondering when Kyle became an expert on what was "good" for her. As much as she likes Kyle, he would come around every five, six months and that was it. If Lena had said it was a good idea – that would be one thing. But Kiara knows full well that Lena fought hard against her going to in-person school. Kiara can only imagine what she thinks about a rigorous, private, college-prep school.

"Do you, uh, want to go inside? I know starting at a new school can be scary, but—"

"Let's just go."

Kiara doesn't wait for Beca to finish her thought. As much as she doesn't want to start that trek to wherever she needs to go before starting her day, the idea of listening to Beca try and give some sort of unsolicited advice, is even worse.

She unbuckles her seatbelt and slowly – so slowly that she miraculously only experiences a brief wave of dizziness once her feet hit the pavement – climbs out of the car. She watches as Beca rushes out to follow her, but Kiara tries her best to hide her struggle. To hide how even the minimally packed backpack feels like it weighs twenty pounds in her hand. To hide the incessant pounding that is radiating through her skull, or how her eyes are fighting her every step of the way to close.

If Kiara were able to pay attention to the students milling about the front steps, she'd notice that a few of them have stopped to look at their new classmate. Size her up to see if she's some sort of threat to the hostile, high school environment's ecosystem. Immediately upon seeing her, they know that isn't the case, and those watching on, turn back to their groups and whisper their immediate thoughts and reactions to the girl leaning up against the side of a car, trying to gain her bearings, while someone else – a mother or caretaker, perhaps – stands awkwardly by the side, not knowing what else to do.

But Kiara is too focused on trying to keep a regular breath. Beca is too focused trying not to join in on the staring while giving Kiara space and simultaneously trying to watch to see if there is anything she can do. Not that she would know what to do, because Beca is so out of her element right now it's not even funny.

Eventually, Kiara pushes herself off the side of the car and takes a few steps forward. She tries to hide the absolute terror associated with staring up at the stairs leading to the entrance of the building, and instead grips the railing with all her might, using as much upper body strength as she can muster to pull her up, step by step.

Beca stands beside her, hands fiddling with her car keys and phone in her hand as she becomes astutely aware of everyone watching Kiara – of everyone watching her daughter – struggle to simply walk.

They're about halfway up the thirty-stairs trek when Beca can't handle it anymore. "You doing okay, Kiara?"

Kiara blows out an angry puff of breath, sweat starting to gather at her hairline, her arm and legs shaking. She still manages an answer. "Do I look okay?"

Beca flinches backward before taking a step closer to Kiara, ready to put her arm around the girl's waist.

"Don't touch me."

Kiara's words are like venom, lashing out against Beca like a sharp knife. If this were any other person, Beca would have an equally sharp response. But with Kiara…there's something inside of her that prohibits her to do so.

Instead, all Beca can do is watch, helplessly, as Kiara finishes her climb to the top. One foot in front of the other, until she collapses on the bench right by the front doors of the school.

Kiara presses the back of her head against the cool stone, her chest and lungs on fire and every part of her body aching. She keeps her eyes closed, knowing that even if they were open, she would be met by total blackness.

All she focuses on is her breathing. And trying not to pass out.

She doesn't notice that the bell rings. She doesn't notice that every student that walks into the school throws a quick, confused glance in her direction on their way into the building. She doesn't notice that Beca's cheeks flush with each person that stops and stares.

All she can focus on is breathing in and breathing out.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Kiara opens her eyes. Beca is standing in front of her, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

Like she's the one that should be embarrassed.

A familiar wave of anger swells up inside of Kiara. It's truly remarkable how unaware Beca is. How unprepared she is for Kiara to be a part of her life. It is something that Kiara simply cannot wrap her head around.

"How're you doing?"

Kiara looks up at Beca through her eyebrows, trying to see through the pain. "If you have somewhere you need to be, you can leave."

A flash of hurt dances across Beca's face once more. "No, that's not—"

"Really? Because the way you're standing right now says otherwise."

Before Beca gets the opportunity to say anything else, Kiara's chest flares with a coughing fit that wracks her entire body. She presses her mouth into the corner of her elbow, face flashing red as the exertion from both the stairs and the coughing catches up with her.

Beca takes a step forward, battling with herself on what to do. At least with this, with the coughing, she's seen it happen before. This isn't wholly unfamiliar. She keeps herself from saying anything, simply standing a little closer to Kiara for supposed support and waits until the spell passes.

Kiara, once more, leans her head back with a sigh, the exhaustion almost becoming unbearable.

"What can I do, Kiara?"

Tears spring to the corner of Kiara's eyes, the answer coming easily to her mind. Bring me home. My real home.

But even when she is able to look at Beca, even after coughing up a lung and feeling like all she can do is lay down – even if it is on this uncomfortable bench – she knows that she can't say that. She knows that she can't even ask to be taken back to the Penthouse, because that idea has already been shot down on more than one occasion.

After living in the comfort and security of Lena's home for eight-plus years, after being safe to ache and to be in pain and to be living with a medley of different ailments, Kiara can't help but feel like she's being forced to conform to someone else's idea of "healthy." One that she certainly isn't.

And she really doesn't have it in her to fight it. Not right now. Not after the morning she's had.

Gripping the wall for support, Kiara forces herself to stand. She forces herself to pull her backpack from the bench beside her and looks up at the looming edifice. She gulps and takes a few uneasy steps towards the entrance. She doesn't look back to see if Beca is following her.

"You must be Kiara! Welcome to St. Agnes; my name is Mrs. Cochran. How're you doing this morning?"

Kiara flinches back at the guidance counselor's energy level, briefly shaking her hand before sinking into one of the chairs that is in front of her desk. "Yeah. Nice to meet you."

The woman, gray hair pulled back in a clip, shakes Beca's hand, too. "And Mrs. Mitchell, so nice to see you again."

Kiara doesn't stop her eyes from rolling in their sockets as Beca sits down beside her, telling Mrs. Cochran that no, really, Beca is fine.

"Well, I am so glad that we were able to get everything in order for Kiara to start today. Kiara, your mom tells me that you've been homeschooled for the majority of your primary and secondary education, is that correct?"

Kiara's stomach churns at Mrs. Cochran's words about her relationship to Beca, but she manages a nod all the same. The woman reminds her of the social workers she sometimes has to talk to at the hospital, especially during med changes or after surgeries. The ones that just want to chat to make sure everything is okay when clearly, it's not.

"As nice as homeschooling is, I think you'll find the curriculum here at St. Agnes a little more enjoyable. We take great pride in adequately preparing our students for college and, eventually, the working world. Do you have any plans for college, Kiara?"

Kiara finally meets Mrs. Cochran's eyes, her eyebrow quirked in disbelief. She blinks, before answering, "No."

Mrs. Cochran's surprise is evident as her jaw opens and closes, no words coming out. "Oh, well, no worries – our teachers and guidance staff are ready to help you brainstorm and get some plans into place." Before Kiara gets a chance to protest, to tell her that, without a transplant, she isn't going to make it to graduation, Mrs. Cochran is talking again. "Now, Kiara, I have your schedule and your welcome packet here. And I know when I met with your moms, they brought up some of your special needs. Would it be alright if we had a conversation about those?"

Kiara's eyes widen with total shock at the condescension in the counselor's question. At her terminology. She keeps her voice steady, not daring to let her emotions cloud her statement. "I have a heart condition, if that's what you mean."

Mrs. Cochran brightens. "Yes, that's it! Mrs. Mitchell, did you bring a copy of Kiara's 504 plan so that we can review? I know we had talked about getting Kiara an aide to go to class with her—"

"I'm sorry, what?" Kiara cuts the woman off, her voice raising ever so slightly as she turns to Beca. Because if there is one thing that Lena taught her, it's that in these types of meetings, you need to speak up. Be a self-advocate. Or else people who have no idea what they're talking about are going to completely ruin your life. "I am not having someone follow me around all day."

"Kiara—"

"No. Absolutely not." Kiara shakes her head, looking from Mrs. Cochran to Beca, back again. "It's great that you guys have had all of these 'conversations' without me, but I will not let you make those kinds of decisions for me. I am not having an aide – the other things in the 504 plan, sure. If you want to tell me if there is an entrance that doesn't require walking up a mountain of stairs – fantastic. That would be great, actually. But someone to follow me around all day? Absolutely not."

Beca lowers her voice, leaning over as if to whisper to Kiara, though Mrs. Cochran can hear loud and clear. "Kiara, Chloe and I were just thinking that maybe—"

Kiara doesn't back down. "No. You thought wrong. I'm not getting any sort of human aide. End of discussion."

Kiara leans back in her chair with a sigh, her throat becoming thick with emotion.

She never should have went searching for Beca to sign that stupid paper.

Surprisingly, the rest of the conversation doesn't go as horribly as it started. Kiara listens as Mrs. Cochran reads through her 504 plan, outlining everything that her and Lena established before she moved out. The ability to go to the nurse without question. An exemption from gym. Unlimited excused absences – basically everything that says that Kiara can't be penalized for being sick, and the school can't do anything to make her sicker than she already is.

With Mrs. Cochran promising to disburse the file to her teachers, Kiara and Beca are effectively dismissed from the office, Kiara gripping her schedule in her hand. The halls are quiet by the time they emerge, classes having long since started.

"Do you want me to walk you to your first period?"

Kiara meets Beca's gaze after she finishes glancing up and down the hall. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Because I don't mind."

"I know you think I'm completely incapable of taking care of myself, especially considering you think that I need a babysitter at school—"

"—That's not—"

"Beca – just stop. I need to get to class."

Beca's shoulders slump in defeat, but she doesn't further the argument. She taps her hands against her thighs, shifts from foot to foot like she has been doing all morning, and nods. "Okay. I'll be here to pick you up at 2:30. If you need anything, Chloe made sure that all of our numbers were in your phone." At Kiara's silence, Beca lets out a soft sigh. "Have a good day, Kiara."

Giving her a tight-lipped smile, Kiara simply turns in the opposite direction and starts walking.

It's not like she knows where she's going, and it's not like her body is really helping her in her wandering, but Kiara is just grateful that she's away from Beca. Away from her preconceived notions. Away from her superiority complex. Away from her thinking that she knows everything there is to know about Kiara when really, she doesn't know the first thing.

It takes her about twenty minutes to find her social studies classroom, and an embarrassing amount of time introducing herself to the teacher, considering she's barely gained her breath by the time he answers the door, and she is stumbling over her words in embarrassment.

Nonetheless, twenty-five minutes after leaving Dr. Cochran's office, she's heading to the back row of room 231C, a PowerPoint of the Renaissance on the board.

She sinks gratefully into the chair, simply taking a moment to collect herself as she avoids the stares of her fellow classmates.

"Do you need a notebook?"

Through the fog settling back over her brain, Kiara barely hears the question. That is, until she turns and sees a boy, dressed in the same uniform but with pants and a tie instead, sitting next to her and waiting for an answer.

"Hm?"

He smirks, lowering his voice to a whisper. "A notebook? Do you need one?"

"Oh." Kiara blinks, coming back to reality. "Um, no, I'm okay—thanks."

The boy's eyebrows furrow. "You sure? Mr. Samson's tests are basically his lectures verbatim."

Kiara nods, knowing that it's unlikely that she'll ever have enough energy to take a test, let alone study for it. "Yeah, thank you, though."

The boy nods. "Sure thing. I'm Toby, by the way. You new?"

Kiara smirks, her body becoming heavier and heavier as exhaustion weighs her down. "That obvious? Kiara – nice to meet you."

Toby responds in some form, but Kiara is too far gone to truly hear. She takes a deep breath, blocking out the ache in her chest, and allowing herself to simply sit.

She ends up sitting through second period. And third. Walking slowly between classes with Toby, and not really carrying on any sort of conversation.

She manages to stay awake through the first three lectures, though halfway through physics, her eyes start doing that thing where they drift closed for a second and then she has to force them to reopen.

By the time fourth period rolls around, her current state becomes unbearable. She's dozing off every other minute and the pain in her chest is growing, both from the constant walking and physical exertion she's endured just this morning, and from the fact that she's been sitting in these wholly uncomfortable chairs attached to the desks.

It is on a particularly painful inhale that she manages to bring the attention back to herself with a grimace and a sharp inhale.

Toby, the boy who apparently doesn't have any friends because he has sat next to her in every class so far, lowers his voice under that of their physics' teacher. "Are you okay? You don't seem too good."

Kiara tries to answer, but the burning in her chest prevents her from doing so. Her eyes clench shut involuntarily, and she grasps the edge of her desk. In and out.

Distantly, she hears, "Kiara? Kiara, are you okay?"

She waits for the spell to pass, just like she would if she were home at Lena's, sitting on the bed with Liv doing their coursework. She focuses on her breathing; she waits out the pain. She visualizes Lena rubbing her back and Liv grasping on to her hand.

She pictures her family, being there for her. Making sure she's okay.

Except this time, when she emerges from it – when she emerges from just one of the many battles she faces on a daily basis – it isn't Liv and Lena waiting for her to open her eyes. Instead, it's an entire classroom full of students – none of whom have bothered introducing themselves – plus Toby and her teacher, Mrs. Nash, staring at her. As she refocuses, she can see some faces drawn with concern. Some of the students are whispering to the people beside them. Some are stealing the few minutes of distraction to check their phones.

All the while, Kiara's cheeks burn red.

"Ms. Mitchell, why don't you head down to the nurse. Mr. Downing, if you wouldn't mind walking with Ms. Mitchell?"

The energy to protest is long gone from Kiara's body. She stands, albeit with a stumble, before she starts trudging towards the door, practically empty backpack in hand. With Toby beside her, she shuffles along the hallway, her exhaustion and fatigue starting to turn to delirium, as she vaguely follows the only person that knows where the nurse's office is.

They stop once, twice, for the tightening of Kiara's chest to pass, and for her to catch her breath.

Kiara isn't sure how long it actually takes – but it feels like it is thirty minutes before they're knocking on the nurse's office door, and she is being whisked away to the cot in the back.

The nurse – Kiara doesn't even catch her name – aggressively fluffs the pillows behind her as Kiara tries to settle deeper into the thin mattress. When she's done and Kiara is sinking away from reality, there's suddenly an oxygen monitor on her finger, and a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm.

(She has long grown familiar with these devices, and their presence is practically unnoticeable as the nurse gets her numbers.)

"How's your pain on a scale of one to ten, Kiara?"

Even if Kiara's head wasn't pounding, even if she could form some sort of coherent thought, she wouldn't be able to come up with a number. Lena and Jackie hated the pain scale, and once they learned enough about you, they didn't need it to gauge where your pain level actually sat. Especially because Kiara, like the rest of the kids, typically had a much higher pain tolerance than what that pain scale actually represents.

So, she shrugs, and licks her lips. "Do you have some water?"

The short and tiny woman wearing scrubs and sneakers like she's running around a hospital, hurries off and returns momentarily with a rather large plastic cup of water. Kiara takes it gratefully.

"Do you want me to call your moms? Have them come and bring you home?"

Kiara takes a few grateful sips, before leaning back against the pillows. "No. This is… this is normal." She closes her eyes, breathing as deeply as her chest will allow. "Can I just stay in here?"

Shockingly, the nurse answers with little hesitation. "Of course. Stay as long as you need. I'll be back to check on you in a bit."

Kiara can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over her.

It's the first time she's felt safe all day.

Thanks so much for reading xxx