An hour later I was forced home by Mr. Stewart while Miley put on another sound check just before the ticket holders were about to come in. We walked to our car that several other cars were now surrounding and a long line of children were blocking our way to the exit.

"Today was fun," I told Mr. Stewart as he continued to concentrate on the road. "Well, for the most part."

Mr. Stewart laughed, turning onto the interstate back home, "Yeah it's definitely been fun. I'm glad you've enjoyed yourself." I nodded, and Mr. Stewart turned to me for a brief second. "Are you still cold?"

I shrugged, looking down at the sweatshirt I had on that barely kept the heat in. Oliver and I had had to return Hannah's blanket just before I left, and truthfully I was still freezing. "I'm fine," I lied.

Without looking, Mr. Stewart took my hand in his, "Liar." He said raising one of his eyebrows while turning on the heat. "I think we might have to talk to the doctors about this tomorrow at the hospital."

"But," I tried. "I'm fine, I just happen to get cold sometimes."

"In April?" Mr. Stewart asked, "This is California, not Connecticut." I shrugged, Mr. Stewart was right, but I was too stubborn to admit it out loud. "We'll get you in front of the television, with pizza, and wrapped up in blankets, sound good?"

I thought about it for a moment and nodded my head slowly before I turned back to look out the window. In my rear view mirror I could see Jackson and his car riding behind us, he waved and I smiled. Soon enough Mr. Stewart turned onto our road and I could see the house in clear view. We pulled up in the driveway silently, and Mr. Stewart waited until Jackson got out of his car before we all walked up to the door and went into the house. The living room was still a mess with the mattress Cooper had slept on, and the blankets Jackson had thrown over the couch. I walked to the kitchen, turned around and went up the stairs without saying a word. I went into my room next door to Miley's, and changed from my jeans and sweatshirt to a layered long sleeved shirt, another sweatshirt, and my yoga pants, and then went back downstairs with a book I'd found from the bookshelf in my room.

"I've got to get back to the concert hall," Mr. Stewart said as I sat down on the couch where Jackson had already turned on the television. Miley's dad placed a tray of milk and cookies in front of us, and hugged us both, "I'll see you guys later." He said, "Don't stay up too late, we have a lot to do tomorrow Lily."

I nodded and waved goodbye to Mr. Stewart who was walking towards the door and outside again, "Bye." Jackson and I said at the same time, "Have fun!"

Once we heard the click of the door closing, Jackson turned grabbed a couple of cookies and practically inhaled them. I laughed, and he turned the television up a little louder as I snuggled into the covers a little more. "I should be getting the rest of my homework done," Jackson said to facing me, and throwing the remote into my lap. "I'll be done in about an hour, call if you need anything."

I nodded and whispered goodbye to Jackson as he walked to his room with his backpack that had been in the corner of the living room. I sighed to myself, and turned the television off, moving the tray of cookies away and lying down on the couch and eventually falling asleep – because next thing I knew, I was being woken up by Miley, and her dad coming through the door.

"Sorry," Mr. Stewart whispered, I looked around and noticed it was now dark, and that Jackson had placed another blanket over me. "We're just passing through, go back to bed." I nodded, too sleepy to respond, and fell back asleep.

I was woken up again the next morning, when Miley, Oliver and Mr. Stewart were in the kitchen – I presumed that Oliver had been dropped off at the house earlier this morning so that Miley and Oliver could go to school tomorrow.

"Good morning sleepy head," Oliver sang as I lifted my head up from my pillow. "Do you want any breakfast?" Oliver held up his bowl of cereal.

I shook my head, "Not very hungry." I sighed, laying my head back down on my pillow. "Do you guys have school today?" I asked, noticing that it was lighter than it should be outside for the hour at which school started.

Miley shook her head, "School got cancelled." I shot up, and turned around so that my head was resting on my hands. "The first floor caught on fire last night, and they couldn't use half of the classrooms."

"Oh," I laughed both glad that they had the day off, and worried. "So what are you going to do today?"

Oliver shrugged, "Jackson's taking Miley shopping this afternoon." I nodded, Oliver had a plan and I knew it, "Knowing Miley they'll probably be out all day." Miley hit Oliver's arm in defence, and Oliver cried out in pain, moving to the couch where I was now sitting up, and sitting next to me.

"I won't be out all day," Miley argued, sitting on the mattress that was still on the living room floor. "Maybe we could go see a movie tonight or something."

I shook my head, "I can't." I told Miley, who seemed surprised by my decline. "I'm still a little sick," I told Miley's questioning face. "I've only been home a couple of days, and the doctors said it could take another week for me to be me again." I clearly lied through half of that, but Miley didn't realize, instead she shrugged her shoulders and continued to talk about something else.

It actually wasn't that long until Jackson came downstairs, "Do you want to get moving now Miles?" He asked, pointing towards the outdoors.

Miley nodded and got up from her seat, "I'll see you later guys." She said before walking towards the door, "Do you want anything Lily?"

I shook my head, and Miley left completely, leaving Oliver and I to our quiet.

"Alright Lily," Mr. Stewart walked in, cutting through the silence. "Are you ready to get to the hospital?" Mr. Stewart turned to Oliver, "Are you coming?"

Oliver nodded, and we all got into the car, and drove the familiar path to the outpatient entrance of Century City Hospital. It wasn't hard to get past the front desk, and it wasn't a long wait for the nurse to call my name. Worried, I was placed on a hard bed in an isolated room, Oliver on my side squeezing my hand as the nurse put the IV into my vein. He reassured me, saying that it was alright, and that it would be over soon, but I soon found out that the insertion isn't the worst part. In no time, I felt like poison was being dropped into my vein, each time the chemo would drip it would burn. I closed my eyes for the first couple of times, squeezing Oliver's hand so hard that he almost yelped in pain, but eventually I sort of got used to it and the burning didn't seem so bad. Unfortunately, no one prepared me for how nauseous I felt half way through, it was as if I was going to throw up but it just wouldn't come out. The nurse standing by, held a tin pot for me, it was what I was supposed to throw up in – and eventually had, four times. I thought that once the therapy was over, and the IV was removed from the fold of my arm, that I was going to feel better – but it just seemed as if the symptoms were growing worse. The moment I tried to stand I was too weak to hold myself up, Oliver and Mr. Stewart had to hold me by the arms to lead me to the car, and the whole way home I constantly felt nauseous still. So far, through the pounding headache, nausea and how weak I felt even when I got home, I was not, whatsoever, enjoying chemotherapy.