A/N: Meep! I just saw the last Harry Potter movie a few days ago! I loved it. But now I'm on a huge Harry Potter kick, and I'm re-reading the books. AGAIN. For like...the seventh time, lol. :P

Anyways, this chapter is probably going to be a tad shorter than the ones I've recently been doing. Well...I though that about the last chapter, though, too, and that one turned out fine in length. Eh...we'll see how it goes.

This chapter contains some content from a story called The Velveteen Rabbit. It will be in italics, and that is not mine. It belongs to the author of the book. I positively adored it when I was younger. :) In fact I STILL adore it. Sigh...childhood classics never die in the heart.

Chapter 15: Learning Morals From a Rabbit

Max's POV

"Alright, yep. Have a good night. You too!" Mrs. Martinez was just ushering the last of the guests out of the house, and Ella was busy in the living room collecting the leftover wrapping paper from all of the presents and shoving it into a large plastic garbage bag. I was sitting on the stairs in a borderline comatose state with my cell phone in my lap, staring at it. I'm not sure what good it was doing, though. Maybe I was hoping that I would develope some sort of telepathic skill and be able to beam my thoughts into Fang's mind and get him to call me. To tell me that everything was okay.

It was the desperate corner of my brain that was hoping he'd call me. I kinda sorta knew that he wouldn't. I mean...he hadn't said anything about it, and I doubted that I was one of his priorities at the moment. I cringed at the thought of him sitting by Shayla's side in the hospital. The Shayla in my mental-image was poked full of IV's and tangled in countless tubes. Hooked up to all sorts of machinery. I shuddered. I'd always hated hospitals for some reason, but thankfully I'd never had a reason to be in one. I reached over listlessly to knock on the wood of stair railing. I was worried sick about Shayla and Fang, but I wasn't going to take any chances with jinxing myself.

Suddenly, I felt a pair of eyes on my pathetic form. I looked up and saw Mrs. Martinez looking down at me with a concerned expression. She tilted her head to the side in an engaged way when she voiced her question. "Max, is everything okay? Fang and his mom left awfully fast. Nothing happened, did it?" I felt like she already knew what the answer was going to be, but she wanted me to confirm it for her before she started fretting. But my mouth was severely dry, and I didn't feel much like talking. I didn't need Mrs. Martinez to be worried about something just because I was worried about it. I mean...she hardly knew Shayla or her family. She didn't need to get mixed up in all this. But she leaned down to kneel next to me and placed a comforting hand on my knee.

"You might feel better if you told someone what was going on, sweetie." she offered. I looked into her eyes and saw something that I hadn't seen in a very long time. A look of genuine interest and concern for ME. For Maximum Ride. It's not that Jeb hadn't cared about me (even though sometimes I denied that he did), but sometimes I felt like he wasted all this time telling me off for the bad things that I'd done and hadn't bothered to talk to me about how I felt or why I did it. 'Cause to tell you the truth, I did most of those things for attention. He was so busy all the time, it ended up being that the only way he took the time to talk to me was when he was scolding me. Here, I didn't have to do anything and I was still approached with concern for my well-being. It was nice and just...extremely relieving.

I let out a big sigh and leaned my head against the railing. "Shayla's really sick." I said quietly, tracing my finger around the edge of my phone. Mrs. Martinez's eyebrows pinched together as she sat down on the step below me, her hand still on my knee.

"What kind of cancer does she have, exactly?" she asked. I thought for a minute, trying to recall the name Fang had told me when I'd confronted him about it. It wasn't something we exactly talked about on a regular basis, and the original conversation had happened weeks ago.

"Umm...osteo...osteosar...?" I trailed off, feeling the name on the tip of my tongue, but not quite able to get it out.

"Osteosarcoma?" Mrs. Martinez suggested helpfully. I nodded fervently.

"Yeah...osteosarcoma. It was in her bones and then...it spread to her lungs, apparently. Mrs. Damon said she was coughing up blood and stuff." I frowned as I recalled all the gory details again. Mrs. Martinez's face also fell to a similar expression. "They left to go to the hospital." My frown deepened. My sympathetic guardian rubbed soothing circles with her thumb on my knee. She looked down at my lap and spotted my cell phone.

"Is he going to call you? Nick, I mean?" she asked gently. I shook my head.

"No...Well, I mean...I'm not EXPECTING him to or anything. I was just...I just want to know that everything's alright." I began to chew on my lip and checked the time on my phone for like...the sixth time in the last hour. It was nearing 9:00 p.m. My nervousness was wrestling around with my exhaustion in the pit of my stomach, making for a very weird, slightly nauseous feeling. I held back a large yawm. It had been a very long day. Mrs. Martinez stood up and put a warm hand to my cheek.

"Staying up late just sitting here and staring at that phone isn't going to do anyone any good." she said softly. "You should go upstairs and take a nice, warm shower and then try to get some sleep." I looked up at her with anxious eyes.

"I...I'm scared." I finally admitted to her. "I'm scared that something's gonna happen, and I feel like there's nothing I can do about it." She looked down at me with heartbroken eyes.

"Sweetie, there might NOT be anything you can do right now. The best thing to do is to take care of yourself and try not to worry yourself sick." She patted my cheek forlornly. "Now go upstairs and try to get some rest, okay?" I just nodded, feeling distracted. She bent down and for the first time, pressed a swift peck of her lips to my forehead. Then she smiled at me sadly and turned to go help Ella with collecting the last of the paper. I knew she was right about the whole 'try not to worry yourself sick' thing, but it still took me a few minutes to get up and make my way upstairs.

I took a long shower and then changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, pulling my hair back and out of my face in a pony tail. I usually wore it up, but I'd taken it down for the party. Then I curled up on my bed and turned my phone on vibrate, sticking it under my pillow. Just in case...

A subconcious part of myself knew I was dreaming, but that didn't stop it from being any less terrifying. I was strapped down to a stretcher with thick, black straps and I was surrounded by all these doctors and nurses that had no eyes or faces really. They were dragging me down this dim hallway and trying to hook me up to all sorts of different monitors and shove needles in my arms. One of the doctors was trying to get me to take some sort of pill. "No, no..." I murmured stupidly, but I couldn't move because of the straps. I just had to go on being poked an prodded against my will. I wanted to scream, but my lungs didn't seem capable of making such a noise. I could only mumble. And then the whole hall started to shake like there was an earthquake or something. I saw one of the doctor's hands slipping from the gurney they had me on and suddenly, they couldn't support me anymore. I was crashing to the tiled floor.

I sat bolt upright in bed, feeling a cold sweat on my forehead. I was breathing heavily, but I was immensly relieved to have proof that it was only a dream. And then I heard the familiar 'vvvvvvp vvvvvpp' sound of my phone vibrating. That's what must have woken me up. Though still too sleepy to really be able to register much of anything in my mind, I shoved my hand under the pillow and extracted my phone, flipping it open and answering in a slightly slurred voice. "Hello?" It was only now that I was beginning to be confused about who was calling me so late. My alarm clock told me it was about five minutes to midnight.

"Max?" said a quiet voice on the other end. "Did I wake you up?" Fang. I sat up a little straighter and tried to rub the blurriness out of my eyes. I suddenly felt wide awake.

"Uh, sort of, but that's fine. Is everything okay?" I asked earnestly, reaching over and turning on the lamp on my bedside table. It's dim glow lit the room and I sat on the edge of my bed. The other line was quiet except for the soft huff of Fang's patterned breathing.

"Shayla's okay for now. The doctor's have her in an oxygen mask and stuff, but she keeps...she keeps coughing up blood." His voice was sounding just the tiniest bit strained. Other than that, he sounded relatively calm. I had to give him major credit for being able to retain such mild display of emotion in this situation. I could tell he was alot more frightened and worried than he let on.

"Fang, are you still at the hospital?" I asked softly.

"Yeah, I think we're gonna end up being here for the night. My mom's really worried and all..." He trailed off at the end of his sentence. I frowned. He sounded like he needed a hug or something. Though, if I suggested that, he'd probably hang up on me and then go run his head under cold water. I bit my lip to keep myself from saying anything too mushy. Then I tried again.

"Fang...do you want me to come down there? To the hospital?" There was a short pause on the other end.

"No...no. I wouldn't make you come all the way down here so late. I just called because I figured...knowing you, you'd be up half the night waiting by the phone so you could find out what was going on." I blushed.

"Well...I wasn't really...waiting by the phone..." I said with slight embarrassment. I waited to feel his smirk over the telephone lines, but it didn't come. I sighed. "Which hospital are you at?"

"Umm...Max, I...You don't have to-" he started, but I cut him off, standing up to rummage through my backpack that was half stuffed under my bed after several days of neglect due to the holidays.

"I know, I don't have to, but I want to. Now what's the name of the hospital?" I asked again. I'd found a pen in the bottom of my bag and it was poised over the back of my hand, ready to write. I heard slight rustling on Fang's end, like he was switching the receiver from one ear to the next.

"It's uh...Sierra Vista Regional Health Center." I scribbled the name down on my hand, mouthing the words to myself as I wrote.

"Okay, I'm just gonna get dressed and then I'll be down there." I said, standing up again from my crouched position.

"Max, really. You don't have to come down here. I'm fine. And I know you hate hospitals." He kept pushing that there was no reason for me to come down. It was beginning to frustrate me. I heaved a sigh and tried not to sound bitter when I spoke.

"Do you not WANT me to come, or what?" There was a long pause.

"No, it's not that...I just..." he trailed off. I rolled my eyes.

"Fang, I'm coming, okay? Hospitals aren't exactly my favorite places in the world, but I think I can be a big girl and handle it for a few hours. Besides...you're like...my best friend or something..." I was surprising myself with my casual admission to the fact that he was indeed quite likely my closest friend. I mean...me and JJ and Caitlyn hung out alot, but I'd never really told them anything terribly deep or meaningful. Me and Fang had slowly been finding out about eachother's secret bits over the past two months. I'd never even been to his house, but I definitely knew him the best out of all my friends here. There was no response on the other end, but I could feel his smirk energy now. It made me grin a little bit, myself. "Okay, I'll be there in a little while." And I hung up the phone.

I scurried over to my dresser and kicked off my sweatpants, throwing on a pair of jeans and donning a bra under my tank top. I pulled my hair back tighter and then slipped my phone into my pocket, tiptoeing down the hallway to Mrs. Martinez's room. Once in the room, I knelt down by her bed and shook her gently awake. She looked up at me with a confused, blurry expression. "Max?" she said sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Fang called. I'm gonna go down to the hospital. I was wondering if you could drive me?" I asked hopefully. She looked at me for a minute, but then nodded.

"Of course, hon. Just give me a few minutes, okay?" It was my turn to nod and then I hurried quietly downstairs to wait.

We were finally pulling up in the parking lot of the Sierra Vista Regional Health Center. Mrs. Martinez cruised through the little half-circle of road under the awning of the entrance and stopped in front of the sliding doors. She smiled at me in encouragement. "Just give me a call when you're ready to come home, okay? Don't worry about waking me up. I'll be waiting. I love you." I nodded, unbuckling my seatbelt and slipping out of the door.

"Okay. Thanks for the ride." And I shut the car door and dashed towards the entrance. The doors slid open and blasted me with cool air as I stepped inside. The main lobby looked like a stereotypical hospital. It was tiled flooring up until a waiting room with carpeted floors, lots of fake plants and many battered chairs. An African American woman with her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail sat behind a desk, talking on a telephone. Many people crowded the waiting room, sneezing, coughing, sleeping, or moaning. Or some awful combination of all three. I cringed as I walked up to the desk. The woman behind the desk looked up from the phone and held up a singular, long finger, telling me to wait just a minute. Her name tag read NICOLE.

"Yes, so I suggest just icing it for now. The swelling should go down in an hour or so." There was a long pause while the person on the other line was speaking. The woman's eyes suddenly grew wide. "It's oozing WHAT color liquid?" There was another pause. I rose my eyebrows at the conversation. "Uh...maybe I better direct you to one of our specialists." She pressed a button on the machine and hung up. Then she smiled at me warmly, as though she hadn't just been discussing strange bumps that oozed oddly colored fluids. "How can I help you?"

"Umm...I'm looking for a...Shayla Damon?" I said tentatively, scratching at the corner of the desk. She typed something into her computer.

"Alrighty...I can give the room a call and see if they are able to receive visitors. Hold on just one moment." She picked up the phone again and dialed. I tapped my foot impatiently. The phone must have picked up because the woman started talking, but I wasn't really paying much attention. I was focused on the elderly man that was seated a few feet away from me in the waiting room. I watched in earnest, trying to make sure he was breathing, because he seemed to be impossibly still. But he gave a sudden twitch in his sleep, and I relaxed a little. "Okay..." Nicole said, smiling. "Someone is going to come down and get you to show you up to the room. They should be here momentarily."

I nodded. "Thanks." I wasn't entirely sure what to do now, or who I was supposed to be looking for. Was Fang coming down? Or were they sending a nurse or something? Nicole had started to talk into the phone again, though (something about exactly how dangerous it was to consume several bottles of Windex), so I wandered away from the desk. I was staring at the cover of a Golfer's Digest Magazine, when I heard a familiar voice say my name.

"Max?" My gaze shot up, and I saw Mrs. Damon standing a bit of a distance ahead of me. I quickly walked over. She had puffy eyes, but she smiled warmly when she saw me approaching. When I stopped in front of her, she suddenly moved forward and embraced me in a warm hug. "Thank you so much for coming down. I know he may not admit it, but it means so much to Nick that you would do this for him." She pulled back to smile at me again. "And it means alot to me, too. Thank you." I blushed just a little bit.

"Oh, it was no big deal..." I said modestly, but she just shook her head.

"Anyways, I sent Nick down to grab me something to drink so that he could have something to do. He'll be so glad you're here. Come on...her room is just down the hall." I followed behind her as she led me down a brightly lit hallway lined with many rooms. Crash carts stood at intervals of every six doors or so. Nurses and doctors bustled past us, carrying clipboards or various test tubes. We walked a little ways down, then turned to the left and went through a set of swinging doors. A few more doors, and she finally disappeared into a room. I slipped in after her. "I think she might have finally fallen asleep." Mrs. Damon whispered, coming to stand at the foot of the bed.

Shayla was laying listlessly on the crisp white sheets, with a tan blanket thrown over her thin frame in an attempt to keep her warm. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was a tad reassuring, but her appearence was almost frightening. She was deathly pale, and her black hair was limp and stuck to her forehead in areas of perspiration. An oxygen mask was strapped over her mouth, it's long blue tubes leading to a machine that was continously making sure she could breathe. There was an IV in her left arm. I noticed a bit of dried blood at the corner of her chapped mouth.

Mrs. Damon walked up to her daughter and tenderly rearranged the blanket so that it covered her better. Then she pushed the damp hair out of Shayla's face and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. I felt my eyes beginning to swim with tears and I bit my lip sharply to stop myself from letting any spill over. I turned my head quickly away and pretended to study a vase of wilting flowers on the table near the bed. "She's been in and out of the hospital for the last four months." Mrs. Damon spoke up suddenly. "I just wish she could be home for Christmas. She already had to spend her birthday in here. I can only imagine how miserable this all must make her." Mrs. Damon's eyes were going all misty. I cleared my own aching throat, not entirely sure how to respond. What do you even SAY to something like that? Thankfully, I didn't have to think too much about that.

"They didn't have any Dr. Pepper. I got you a Coke. Is that-" We both turned around to see Fang standing in the doorway, holding two sweating bottles of Coke in his hands. His face was expressionless, but I could see the worry lingering in his eyes, and also the surprise that I was here. "You came..." he said quietly, nodding at me as he handed his mother a bottle of soda. I tried to grin.

"I said I was coming, didn't I?" I was attempting to be lighthearted, but the atmosphere was really just too much of a downer. It was like putting Will Ferrell in a movie about the Holocaust. It just didn't work. Fang didn't say anything for a long time, but then I heard him mutter something under his breath that made my heart go all fluttery:

"Thanks. I really appreciate it." Okay, so he wasn't exactly pulling me into a hug and sobbing about how much it meant to him that I was there, but this is FANG we're talking about here. You can't expect too much from the guy by way of gratitude expression. We were all clustered around Shayla's bed in silence until a little nurse with big eyes and curly black hair popped into the room.

"Umm...excuse me, Mrs. Damon?" she said tentatively in this little burble of a voice, "Your ex-husband is on the phone in the lobby." Fang's mom stood up, still clutching the Coke bottle and nodded at the nurse.

"Alright...tell him I'll be there in just a second." The nurse nodded and left the room. Mrs. Damon stroked Fang's hair caringly and gave him a watery smile.

"I'll be right back." And she walked out. Me and Fang stood perfectly still and kept sneaking little glances at eachother, and when we caught one another's gaze, quickly averted our eyes as though it had never happened. After a minute or two of this, I tried to busy myself with peeling off the sticky residue left behind by a long-ago-removed sticker on a battered book cover that was plopped on the bedside table. I saw Fang kneel down out of the corner of my eye and take Shayla's hand. I felt like I was intruding on another private moment, and kept my eyes locked on the book. I was almost startled when he broke the silence by talking.

"I used to read that book to her when she was little." he said in a slightly monotone voice. I focused in on the book instead of just staring at it. It was called The Velveteen Rabbit. "I guess I didn't realize she'd kept it. I thought we lost it like...a year ago." I got up the nerve to glance over at him. He was sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and...Oh my god? Were those TEARS in his eyes? I felt myself gaping and quickly shut my mouth. It did indeed look like his eyes were a little shinier than usual, but maybe it was just the light.

"I still remember her favorite part." he said softly. He was staring down at his sister's hand. I grabbed the book off of the table and walked around to the side of the bed he was on, pressing it into his free hand. He looked up at me with an uncomprehending expression.

"Read some of it to me." I said gently, sliding down so I was seated on the floor. "Share your world with me, Fang." I thought in my head. I leaned back against the frame of the hospital bed and looked up at him with expectant eyes. He froze for a minute, but then cleared his throat and opened the book, flipping past the first few pages, obviously looking for a specific part. Then he licked his lips and began to read in that quiet voice of his. I closed my eyes to listen.

"'What is REAL?' asked the rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. 'Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?'

'Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'

'Does it hurt?' asked the rabbit.

'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for her was always truthful. 'When you are Real, you don't mind being hurt.'

'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'

'It doesn't happen all at once.' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.'

'I suppose YOU are real?' said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensative.

But the Skin Horse only smiled."

When I opened my eyes, I saw that Fang's was turned straight down at the page he'd stopped on, his hair curtaining his eyes so that I couldn't see his face. And then I saw a small, wet mark form on the page. And then another, and then a third. The tears glimmered in the light from the lamp on the table. My own eyes had tears in them. I moved so that I was on my knees and shuffled over to him. He didn't move. I stared at his back for several moments before wrapping my arms around him hesitantly from behind to give him a hug. He didn't move, not even as my arms slid under his I came to rest my slightly fisted hands on his solid chest, pressing my face into the back of his shoulder.

And then I heard a sheathing noise and felt his warm hands come to rest on the backs of my forearms, holding them where they were. Another drop of moisture fell onto my arm, but I didn't care. I was making a damp spot on his shirt where my own face was pressed. We didn't need any words to express what we were feeling. The moment said it all.

I could hear muffled voices as I drifted in and out of my sleep state. My neck was stiff and my right leg was asleep. It prickled when I shifted it slightly. My head was resting on something hard and warm. I cracked my eye open just the slightest bit and squinted in the light. I had drifted off leaning my head on Fang's shoulder. After our "embrace" or whatever you wanna call it, we'd climbed off of the floor and gone to sit in the two chairs by the heater. Judging from his steady breathing, Fang had fallen asleep as well. I was about to stretch and re-adjust myself, when Mrs. Damon came into my squinted view.

"So what exactly are we going to have to do?" she was asking a tall man with graying hair and large glasses. He was wearing a white coat, so I assumed he was a doctor. I closed my eyes more and pretended that I was asleep. I was too curious about what they were saying. I heard the man's gruff voice responding.

"Well, since the cancer had metastasized to her lungs, it's vital that we perform surgery to remove the tumors as soon as possible before it spreads again." There was a long pause.

"Can you do this surgery HERE? In this hospital?" Mrs. Damon was asking in a concerned voice.

"A specialist is willing to fly in to perform it, yes. If you just sign this paperwork saying you consent to the operation, we'll call him up immediately and he can be in by sometime this evening." I heard papers being shuffled around.

"How much is this all going to cost?" There was another bated pause. I held my breath.

"I believe the cost is listed on the third page in." said the doctor. I heard more paper sounds, and then a gasp.

"I-There's no way we'll be able to afford this." said Mrs. Damon. "We...we don't even have any insurance since I lost my job. I-Is there ANYTHING else we can do?" She sounded desperate.

"Mrs. Damon, it is VITAL that we remove those tumors." There was a sniffling noise.

"Is...Isn't there some sort of way we can get financial assistance for this sort of thing? Some sort of Board?" she asked helplessly. There was a long sigh from the doctor.

"I can try and get you on the list for financial assistance, but there's no telling how long it will take to get you approved. There are A LOT of patients in need of money to pay for operations. It could be a few days before they even get to you on the list."

"And we don't have that much time?" Fang's mom asked in a wavering voice.

"I...I don't know HOW much time you have, Mrs. Damon. But...I think it would be of extreme importance to do this as soon as possible." I heard Mrs. Damon squeak a little, and opened my eyes. She was pressing her hand fiercly to her mouth to stifle her crying. It was a miserable scene. Shayla was still fast asleep, pale as ever. Her mother was giving her a run for her money in that department, though. "I know this is very stressful for you, but I'm going to need a yes or no answer soon. I can give you a little time to figure something out, but not much." There was more muffled sobs and then the sound of footsteps exiting the room. I cracked my eyes open even wider. Mrs. Damon was crumpled on her daughter's bed, lying next to her. The scene broke my heart.

She stayed like that for almost a half hour, but then suddenly straightened herself up and dabbed her eyes with tissue. Then she walked out of the room again, closing the door behind her. The clicking noise must have woken Fang, because a second later, he was stirring out of his slumber. I pulled my head off of his shoulder. He sat up out of his slouch and rubbed his eyes, catching sight of me. I must have been wearing a worried expression, because the first thing he said was "What's the matter?" I shook my head.

"Nothing." He yawned and stretched. The door to the room opened again, and Mrs. Damon popped back in. Her eyes were puffy, but dry at the moment. She looked a little surprised to see us up.

"Oh, you guys are awake." she said, giving a strained smile. She was clutching the papers the doctor had given her behind her back. My stomach started to growl, and I looked at the clock on the wall. It was 6:47 in the morning. "If you guys are hungry, you could go down and get some breakfast. There's a little cafe type thing. And a gift shop, if you want to look around a little." Fang yawned again.

"Yeah, we can go and get something. Do you want anything, mom?" he asked her, standing up. She shook her head.

"If you can find me some coffee, though, that'd be great."

"'Kay." he responded, starting towards the door.

"I'll come with you!" I said suddenly, hopping up from my seat and hurrying after him, eager to get out of the room. My mind was reeling with the fact that they might not be able to afford the surgery for Shayla. What would happen? They couldn't just...let her be. I mean...she NEEDED medical help. The worry was chewing a hole in the lining of my stomach, and even though I was starving, I didn't feel hungry. It was odd.

While Fang was ordering our breakfast at the counter of a small cafe that was just a few paces away from the lobby, I leaned against the wall by the bathrooms and wondered what to do. I kept wearily eyeing Fang. He looked calm enough, but the image of him bent over that book and his tears hitting the page ripped my heart in half. He kept his emotions very secret from everyone, and the fact that he had been at all able to share them with me had created a bond between us that was now tangible when we were in the same room. It was like retrieving a missing piece of your soul, or something cheesy like that.

He would be devastated if he lost Shayla. I could tell by the way he looked at her that she meant the world to him. My throat was getting all tight again. And then Fang was passing me a wrapped english muffin sandwich and an orange. He was juggling a coffee for his mom and a bagel and cream cheese I assumed was for him in his free hand. He cleared his throat while I grabbed some napkins from the dispenser on the counter. "You seemed kind of distracted, so I just ordered for you." he said, nodding at the sandwich in my hand.

"That's fine. I like these things." I told him, trying to keep my voice level. I could eat just about anything right now. It didn't matter, I just wanted some food. We were walking back to the room when we passed the gift shop. I paused in front of it. It was small, but inviting, with lots of little trinkets displayed in the glass windows. Cinnamon-apple scented air wafted towards us from inside the shop. "Do you mind?" I asked Fang, taking a step towards the store. "I don't really want to go back to the room just yet." I didn't think I could stand feeling all the emotional turmoil that would brew if we were all in the same room together. I had too much on my mind. He just shrugged and followed after me.

The man at the cash register was looking slighly less than pleased to be working the morning shift. He was half asleep, slumped on a stool with a steaming coffee in one hand and a crossword puzzle in the other. He hardly glanced up at us when we entered. Brightly colored 'GET WELL' balloons floated on the ceiling, and whole row of cards was available as well. Small, porcelain statues were for sale on glass shelves. Then there were books and magazines, chewing gum, chapstick, and all sorts of little knick-knacks you'd expect to see in a hospital gift shop. I was spinning a revolving display of cards and munching on my sandwich when Fang prodded my shoulder. I spun around to see what he wanted.

"This looks kind of like that necklace everyone was freaking out about on Halloween." He held up a cheap looking piece of jewlery that consisted of a silver chain with a few purple, glass gems strung on it. I almost laughed. It was a horrible comparison, I thought, as my mind flashed back to the taaffeite necklace burried in my closet. I took the necklace from him and ran my fingers over the gems.

"Not even close." I said, reaching to put it back where he'd taken it from. "This one looks like it costs about two dollars." I shook my head and turned back to spinning the card display, murmuring now so that only I could hear myself. "The real thing is so expensive, it's not even funny." I could sell the taaffeite necklace and buy a fucking house. I could sell it and-

I felt my eyes go wide. "Oh my god!" I gasped, jumping away from the cards. Fang moved back sharply and almost knocked over a small stand with teddy bears on it. "Why didn't I think of that before!" I abandoned my orange and shoved the rest of my sandwich in my mouth, digging my cell phone out of my pocket and dashing out of the store. Fang hurried after me.

"Max, what are you talking about?" he asked me as I hurriedly dialed Mrs. Martinez's number.

"I'll explain later, but I think I've just come up with the most brilliant idea I've ever had!" I said, talking so fast it was almost comparable to Nudge. Fang was eyeing me like I'd just informed him that it was my destiny to jump off the top of a very tall building. I rolled my eyes at his suspicion. "Relax, it's nothing dangerous, but..." I paused, trying to decide whether or not I should share anything with him.

"I think it might save your sister's life."

A/N: I've been thinking, and I've come to the conclusion that I really should READ more fanfiction. I absolutely adore this site, but I only ever write. I never take advantage of having all you wonderful authors at my fingertips and go out and browse. And for that, I'm sorry. You guys all take the time to read my stories, so I should be taking the time to read more of everyone's as well. Tehe...I'll have to get started on that some time.

But for right now, thanks again for reading. A review would be nice, if you can manage. I love you all! :D