A/n: Hey, y'all! I'm a tad late, but I hurt my wrist, so I wasn't having the best week. I also got hooked on the Jeopardy Tournament of Champions... yeah, I'm a nerd! Thanks to my awesome beta CavyGirl1991, who helped me ensure that this chapter was as perfect as we could get it.

Disclaimer: Veronica Roth isn't looking at colleges right now.

Chapter Five:

I find myself dreaming. Except, it isn't just any dream. It's the type of dream where you have snapshots of your life.

It all started when I was seven, and we lived in New York City. I was an active kid; on the swim team, just like I am now. I also did some acting in my free time, I was always up to something. That's why, when my symptoms first appeared, we missed them.

Oh, she's always thirsty? Well, she swims pretty hard, and she's always running wherever she goes. Makes sense. Oh, she eats all the time? Must be all the stuff she's doing. She's tired all the time? Must be all she's doing. Until I collapsed.

I don't remember exactly how it happened. I do remember that I was at home, and was heading down to dinner. I remember feeling nauseous, like I was going to get sick.

My dad came in to check on me. It may seem surprising that my dad was the one who went in to check on me—usually it's Mom—but that's how it happened. When he saw me huddled over the toilet, seemingly emptying everything I'd ever had to eat in my seven years of life, he freaked.

"Natalie! Natalie, come here for a sec!"

Mom came running up the stairs. She called an ambulance, because she said I was unresponsive. I don't remember much after that.

The next thing I remember is waking up in Mount Sinai hospital's Pediatric Intensive Care Unit with an IV in my hand, and two tearful parents by my bedside.

They told me what was going on, and we cried together for a while. Then, a nurse told me I'd have to go to three days of eight-hour classes—diabetes boot camp—before i could go home.

We had to learn about insulin, blood sugar, carb counting, and how, if kids manage their own diabetes, they will be more motivated to care for themselves later on. We watched some movies, got materials, and went on our way.

School was hell. Everyone assumed it was catching, so they avoided me like I had the plague. We moved later that year. I'm not sure, but I think that was the only move I was ever happy about.

Since then, I've made it a vow to never tell my friends about my diabetes. I know it's risky, but it was a good protective mechanism.

I went on the pump when I was thirteen. I was notoriously bad at remembering to take my shots, although somehow, I was good at testing. Plus, I went through a period where I was like "screw this! I don't want to give myself my shots. I don't want to test. I just want to be like everyone else."

It all came to a climax a couple week before my fourteenth birthday. I'd been feeling off for a while, but I refused to acknowledge that anything was wrong with my readings. Then, shit hit the fan.

I was in English Lit, when I suddenly started getting weak in the knees. I fell out of my seat onto the floor, and passed out.

No one knew what was wrong with me. They called an ambulance, which rushed to my aid. My sugar was 652, and the secret of my diabetes was out.

I stayed in the ICU for three days. I had gone into DKA, Diabetic Ketoacidosis. My parents and I had long, emotional heart-to-hearts about why I stopped taking care of myself. I was scared I'd die, and I made up my mind to never end up in this situation again.

When I was moved to a regular room, my endocrinologist at the time, Hannah, had suggested an insulin pump, instead of shots. I also got a lecture about sticking to my diet, testing without fail, and making sure that if I ever felt off, to go to the nurse immediately.

Insulin pumps in general never appealed to me. I wasn't one for tubing, and having to connect and disconnect from it, and the process of changing infusion sites seemed unnecessarily complicated.

I finally settled on the OmniPod, which is a tubeless pump. Then, I had to have two four-hour classes on that before I could go home.

I've still had my screw-up moments, like that time the pod came off, and I didn't notice right away. Or the time my PDM fell into the pool; Mom and Dad were not pleased. It only got better from there, though.

And now I have friends who know about my diabetes, and who won't turn on me. In fact, they've embraced me.

Like that one time on Halloween, when we went trick-or-treating and I felt low. I didn't have much candy that was good for lows, but Four did. He helped me to the curb, I checked my blood sugar, then ate two packs of Skittles from Four. I later appologized, and admitted that I should have packed something to help bring my sugar up, but Four wasn't having it.

"Tris, chill out. It's fine; we got you. Besides, you already had three lows today. You already used up your supplies. It's all cool." That showed me that I really could trust them.

And, to make things even better, we're not moving again until I graduate! That may not sound like long, but the longest we've lived in one place was a year, and the shortest was a month.

Tyler is my sixth endocrinologist, mainly because we could usually drive a couple hours and be at my previous endo.

Part of the reason Dad left the military was because of how much trouble us kids were having with friends. I can't tell you how many friendships I had and lost because of Dad's job.

Now, though, I have friends that will be friends for a lifetime; I can already tell. Christina flat-out told me that I was her best friend, and she's mine, too.

Everything is okay. Maybe not perfect, but okay. And I'll take okay. Okay is good. Or at least, good enough for me. I'll take okay.

My mind drifts back to another memory, this one of when Shae came to live with us. She was only six months old, and it had been a long and nasty court battle between my mother's sister and my parents. Eventually, though, Shae was allowed to move in with us. And since then, I've had a new role to play: the big sister. Or, sort of, anyway. Close enough for me.

I was there for her during those days when she had horrible nightmares, and when she seemed to always be sick. I was the one she came to when she broke her leg. So, things are good. Everything will be alright.

A/n: Okay, so I'll try to be back on Saturday. I'm gonna prewrite, so this hopefully won't happen again. Thanks for having patience; I really apreciate it. So, not to sound pushy, but do you think we can get to twenty reviews? That would be so incredibly awesome. Alrighty, audios amigos!

Bianca.

Responses to reviews:

Charms22: thanks! Me too.

Guest: please, please, please work on your capitalization skills. It took me litterally ten minutes to decode what in the hell you were trying to say. Roast me, if you want, but at least make it easy for me to read it. Thanks! Oh, and I spent literally an hour plotting this out.

CarissaCampbell: I'm with you one hundred percent. Thanks for the compliment, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

QOTD shout-outs: none

QOTD: what show are you currently hooked on?

AOTD: Jeopardy (review your answer).