Enjoy reading. I sincerely hope this one turned out as well as the others.

When it rains – Paramore

When you open your eyes to the rain
You'd be amazed at what you'd
See.
-someone smart

I stab the buttons on my cell 457-2817. "WHAT!?!" I yell into the phone.

"Morning Toph," Sokka yawns, "I see you got my text."

"Let me get this straight. You have cancer. HOW LONG HAVE YOU EFFING KNOW THIS?!?" I can't believe him. Why in the heck didn't he tell me sooner?

"Um Toph, I think you just busted my eardrum."

"HOW LONG?" I yell, sitting.

"Since about yesterday 6:00, when the test results came back," he replies forlornly.

"And you waited until NOW to tell me?!?" I shout fuming. I can't decide if I want to strangle him or hug him.

"I sent you the text last night, check the sending time."

I press options, text info:
Sender: Sokka-the-socks (old nickname, long story)
Recipient: Toph Beifong
Time sent: 6:16:58 pm
Time received: 8:42:03 am

"Stupid, retarded phone," I mumble.

"See," he remarks calmly. I feel little glass pieces of my heart peeling off like the cheap stickers you get in first grade cause the school is too cheap to buy better ones.

"What kind?" I inquire, somberly.

"Brain cancer. In the frontal lobes and rapidly spreading." Sokka releases in a way that shows he is still trying to come to terms with it too. I here gasping on the other end… he's crying. Everything is quiet except for that. Quiet enough to hear Katara's point shoes on the wood floor, and Jimmy the parrot repeating the curse words I taught him down the hall.

"Sokka," I utter into the airy silence. I sit up cross-legged, "Sokka," I whisper again.

"Come down to Ninth Street Coffee after church," he blurts,
"…the rest of the gaang is going to meet us up there."

"Okay," I press the little red end button. I flop back on my fluffy comforter the air whooshing out from behind me. I suck breaths in big gasps of air. The clock reads 8:56. Yay, I was supposed to get up 30 minutes ago. Only problem is I don't think I can. My whole body is limp. I lay there staring at the ceiling in the silence for what seems like eons.

"Toph, Toph, wake up! We have to leave in ten minutes," my mom howls through the bedroom door.

"Okay I'm up," I groan. My head throbs, as I roll out of bed and pull on a pair of black slacks. Half asleep, I sit in down on the black and white polka dot cushion in front of my vanity. I see dark circles under my eyes and hair that sticks up in all different directions, in my star shaped mirror. I smile. I look like I just climbed out of the grave. I drive a comb through my, in the words of my father, "much too long hair". All while trying to get on my other tie-dye chuck. Despite my hurry, the world seems to be slightly fuzzy, soft around all the edges, like it's moving in slow motion.

"Toph, ARE YOU COMING? WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW!" Dad roars from down stairs.

"I'm coming," I grumble hurling the door close behind me.

"HURRY THEN!"

Fine. I plop down on the banister and am there in two point six seconds flat. (Sokka and I timed it once)

"Why do you feel the need to do that?" he gripes, "It isn't proper."

"What?" I melancholically shrug, "You said hurry."

He slams the front door, with it's inset stain glass picture of the family crest. It cost seven thousand freaking dollars.

"Do you know what mom would do if she saw you do that?"

"Hush," he replies, as we dash down the walk, his long gray trench coat flying behind him. But I can see the smile in corner of his mouth. At least I'm out of trouble for making us late.

I tune out Mom's lecture on tardiness, as the limo pulls out of the drive. I wish I could sit it up front with Bob. He may be old as dirt, but at least he's quiet.

Scenes of naked trees and brown empty fields pass by, outside the darkened windows in a blur. Rain abandons the sky above for this hellhole below, in bucketfuls. My parents are still lecturing about something. The noise is irritating. And when it rains on this side of town. I can't remember any of the other words, besides that. I hum the melody soft enough for them not to hear, cause if I don't I'll just get more crap about not joining the choir or something.

Turns out we're only five minutes late. I manage to say awake somehow, through the whole thing, despite my total lack of sleep and caffeine. The parish is cloaked in ordinary time green and the all year cream. Green fabrics, cream-colored candles on either side of the alter and the chandeliers that hang from the rafters. The pews, alter, tabernacle, and eaves are absolutely covered in ivy. Ivy has to be one of my favorite plants. Thank God the alter society has good taste. I don't even want to think about what my mom would do with the place, if it wasn't for them. (She is an interior decorator).

The service is average. The priest babbles on about tolerance. He's a very small man in all aspects. I don't pay attention to half of it. My mind is somewhere else. Mass lets out. We drive home. I change. I leave a post-it note for Karen, the house keeper/my "nanny", on the fridge. (My parents are at the country club for the afternoon).

I leave.

I open my clear umbrella. I step off the front stoop, cut across the grass, exit the front gate, and turn left into town. The rain isn't coming down in buckets anymore, but its still drizzling. The sky is smooth and gray as kitten fur. Puddles swell in every crack, crevice, and slight unevenness in the sidewalk. It too is a nice cool gray. Even the gum wads stuck to it look some how nicer. The over baring, over-priced three story homes' white and ashen marble gates come right to the sidewalk not even an inch between them, as if to say MINE! You no looky at my ritzy perfectly manicured lawn! Lucky for me, town is only a few blocks off, so when ever I want to leave the hellhole I can, easily.

Looking up at it through the thin plastic I finally remember those stupid lyrics. "And when it rains," I sing to the lonely street, "On this side of town. It touches everything." I smile to myself I can't believe I forgot these words. "Just say it again and mean it."

I pull open the front door of Ninth Street. Sokka, Katara, and Aang are seated at our usual corner booth. Strangely Suki isn't. I stuff the umbrella in the little sky blue vase thingamajig next to the door. We don't miss a thing.

"So," I comment sitting down. They all look up and scoot over. The grave faces looking up at me say everything.

"I see." I say. The silence in the bustling coffee shop is unbearable. I have to say something. "So Sokka, what's your treatment plan surgery, chemo, what?" I ask. Katara and Aang frown. Okay so that was a little rude to flat out ask but geez.

"What?" I say, "I wanna know." Katara shutters, shaking her head. Aang just rolls his eyes.

"I don't know yet," Sokka answers somberly.

"Oh."

Minutes pass. I count the seconds by taping my fingers on the table. Ten or twelve people stand in front of the two cash registers. Long enough for me to get out of hostile environment for a few minutes.

"I'm going to get some coffee," I comment standing up, "Anyone else want anything?" Silence. Grim faced silence.

"A small coffee," Aang asks.

I nod in reply. Okay then. I meander across the shop and stand in the longer of the two lines. Ninth street, I say, would have to be a medium sized store, but monumental for a coffee shop. Eleven to twelve tables scattered around the middle and pressed against the front side windows, and seven or eight booths pressed against the right wall. The back wall has the stage, the left the cashiers and pastry/coffee counters. Red brick and cinnamon shade wood panel walls, the floors are shiny oak. I have to say, it's my kinda place. It's cozy, with people reading, writing, studying, and drinking coffee everywhere.

I peer over at our little gaang. They looks so different from how they usually do. Like the walking dead rather than living.

"You made yourself a bed at the bottom of the blackest hole," I sing to myself in the quietest voice I can mange. I really, really, REALLY hope nobody hears me. The line moves up. Most people just take their coffee and walk out the front door, its pretty dead on Sundays. I gaze up at the chalkboard menu. Items are scribbled on in multi-colors pinks, blues, greens, and purples. Triple shot vanilla cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate sauce as always. I pear through the glass down at little pieces of cheesecakes, turnovers, cookies, and fudge. My reflection stares back at me, in the suns glare, a harsh change from the dim coffee shop.

"And convinced yourself that it's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore." Dark circles and pale skin. Hey, I look like the living dead too. I strengthen up, looking back at Sokka. His coca colored skin looks like it did the day I threw up on him in third grade, and his eyes are blood shot. I sigh. My best friend is dying. Once again I get that stinging feeling in my eyes.

Not gonna cry, not gonna cry, I say over and over again in my head. "And oh, oh, how could you do it?" Yes God, how could you? How could you give Sokka cancer? "Oh I, I never saw it coming." My soccer playing, eat anything that moves, building a 7 feet tower out of sporks, buddy has cancer. "Oh, oh I need the ending." But what kind of ending am I going to get?

"LADY! Hey lady," The cashier growls. My mind breaks its petrified trance.

"Sorry," I murmur, "Tall triple shot vanilla cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate sauce and a small coffee."

"$5.47," he says nonchalantly. I hand him a ten and take the coffee. I turn around. I hand Aang his coffee and sit down.

"Sure I can't get you anything, Sokka?" Katara coos in a motherly way.

"I'm good, thanks," he mumbles.

Katara pick up her cell. "Its 12:15 I've got dance class in 30 minutes," she glances over at her brother, "Guess I should go..." Katara tries to smile weakly. And fails. She picks up a green bag and walks, pink hard shoes hanging over her shoulder.

"What about you Twinkle Toes? Going with her?" I retort.

"No," he replies, calmly smiling, "I don't have class for another two hours." I will never understand this boy. He feels no shame in being a ballerina.

"I think I'll go too," Sokka mutters, "You guys can come if you want." So why can't you stay, just long enough to explain. The words run through my head as me and Aang watch Sokka amble out the door. And when it rains. Head down hands in his pockets. You always find an escape. I glance back at Aang. He's just a dumbfounded as me. The rain starts to thunder down, again in buckets. Alrighty then. Just running away from, all of the ones who love you.

"So Toph, do you think we should follow him?" Aang asks. I gaze out in the direction that he left.

"Nah, you go to your little dance class I'll make sure he doesn't jump off a bridge or something worse," I answer. From everything. "I don't have to be anywhere til four." I yank my umbrella from the vase and step out onto the sidewalk. Empty. As usual, no one ever seems to just be going for a walk or wondering around (unless they're drunk, and we don't exactly have tons of those in this town).

I look both ways. No Sokka, but I'm pretty sure I know where he is.

Millions of little bird feet sized rain drops fall from the sky without any intensity at all, like as if these raindrops know that where they came from was heaven, and where they are falling to by an act of God is no place to be. They then cover everything or splatter into the ground, saving the world below with their sacrifice.

"You've made yourself a bed at the bottom of the blackest hole." That would be an understatement. The 'bunker' is an abandon bomb shelter built by Sokka's grandparents it isn't being used for anything now. We used to play in when we were younger, now it's just a hiding-from-the-world spot. Perfect, because it's about as big as a cubby hole. I push open the titanium steel door, the hinges squeak. I don't bother shutting it. Light barely illuminates on the stairs. Three steps from the bottom I switch on a small light bulb. And you'll sleep till May. He's out like candle in a wind storm on a cot/bed that takes up on half of the space. First time I think Sokka has ever slept not snoring loud enough to wake the dead. I sit softly as possible down on the foot of the bed. You'll say that you don't want to see the sun anymore.

"Toph, close the door," he gripes, "It's too bright."

I just switch of the light bulb. "Compromise," I say, "You need dark to sulk I need light not to accidentally kill myself."

He springs up, "Wait, who said I was sulking?"

I stare blankly back at him. Part of me wants to laugh. And no (oh) how could you do it.

"You did Sokka," I say back, simply.

"Oh," he sighs; his whole body sags a little more. Did I mention I've always had an urge to hug him when he sighs? (Oh I) I never saw it coming. I reach out with my arms and wrap them around his neck.

"I must be a complete mess," he utters. I've only hugged him twice before; once when his mom died and once when accidently killed Katara's cat because he forgot to feed it while she was away at camp. (No oh) I need an ending. But what kind of ending will I get.

"It's okay, buddy. What are friends for?" So why can't you stay just long enough to explain? I let go.

"Thanks, I think I needed that," he says. Take these chances to turn it around.

"No problem. Anything I can do to help," I reply. Part of me wants to smile, and part of me wants to crawl into a warm dark hole and sleep till this is all over. Take these chances we'll make it somehow.

And the light of the gray and purple sunset creeps down the stairs and rest sleepily on the surface of everything.

And Take these chances and turn it around
Just turn it around.

And somewhere the sun shines.

And no (oh) how could you do it
(oh I) I never saw it coming


And somewhere the rain pours on.


no (oh) how could you do it

Somewhere Aang and Katara together dance on wood floors
of a classroom getting ready for Katara's junior piece.

(Oh I) I never saw it coming

Somewhere Suki practices cheers with her little band of little look a-likes, with overly happy smiles, even though she wishes warmheartedly she could be here

And we all know it.


no (oh) how could you do it

Somewhere God looks down on us
Form his giant fluffy cloud castle in the sky.


(oh I) I never saw it coming and


And suddenly a morning dove begins to sing
And I know the last part is true

(no oh) I need an ending


And somewhere a clock strikes four.

You can take your time, take my time

soooooo how'd you guys like it???? REVIEW!!!!!!!! all you need is too words. Nice story. PERiod. Bad Story. PERIOD. Omg so much work.

Kay so I'm extremely sorry this has taken so long, the next chapter has three or four pages typed and I hope to be done by mid April but school is school and it comes first because no matter how much I love fanfics they will not get me into college or pay my bills someday. WELL thats not completely true if I decide to become a writer these could beconsidered practice BuT STILL.

so yeah hope you enjoyed this. Special thanks to green kataang my beta and all my reviewers.