Black and White Keys

I, Kate Snow, can make a wish every time I play the piano. As I begin to play, I close my eyes and concentrate on the thing I want most in the world. My fingers move naturally across the piano keys. I know the minute it begins. A shocking power surges through me, starting in my chest and traveling down my arms, through my fingers, and into the keys. I’ve only ever used this power four times in my lifetime, and I pray to God every day that I never use it again.  

            I don’t dare look at the crowd as I make my way across the stage, but after taking a seat at the piano bench, I take a long look at it. My mother gives me double thumbs up from the second row. I take a deep breath and place my hands on the keyboard, hesitating before plunging into the music. I had practiced this song so many times my hands seem to move absentmindedly across the keys. Outside of the auditorium, the rain pours heavily. I close my eyes and concentrate on the sound of the rain beating against the roof, willing it to stop. My shoulders jerk forward, my eyes fly open, and the rain stops so abruptly that it almost seems unnatural. For a millisecond, I hesitate, but I continue playing. I take a glance at the crowd. Most people seem unphased by the sudden change in the weather, but when I look at my mother, her face is full of concern. I finish the song, stand up, bow slightly, and walk off the stage, taking long strides until I am backstage as the crowd applauds. My mother runs up to me with a small bouquet of flowers and gives me a hug. If she is still concerned, I can’t tell.

            After the concert, we went out for ice cream. My mother’s eyes were clouded with thought, and she seemed to be worried about something.

            “Is everything okay?” I ask as I throw away my cone wrapper. It takes a minute for the question to register in her brain.

            “Oh, yeah. You did a great job; I was very impressed,” she replies.

            “Thanks. It was kind of weird how the rain stopped so suddenly,” I state.

            “Yep,” she replies simply, avoiding my eyes. I can’t help but wonder if she’s hiding something from me.

            “You know I was really hoping it would stop,” I say, pushing the subject.

            “It was probably a coincidence.”

            “Are you sure?” I ask.

            “No. But we’ll talk about this later in private.”

            “Wait, what?” I exclaim. My mother looks around to make sure no one can hear us and then turns back to me and sighs.

“Alright, you’ll find out sooner or later, so you might as well hear it from me,” she starts, “Kate, you possess a great but dangerous power. It is both a blessing and a curse to you and those around you. You must learn to control it and hide it from everyone, including your friends.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“The rain stopped because you wanted it to as you were playing the piano. That’s how it works. You wish something to happen as you play the piano, and it happens.”

“Why is it so dangerous?” I say, trying to roll the explanation along.

“Because with it, you can rebuild or destroy the world. You have the power of the world at your fingertips. Do you know how scary that would be for the people around you? To know what you could do to them if you wanted to is scary. Why do you think I was so hesitant to allow you to play the piano? And once you’ve made your wish, you can’t change it,” she replies, her voice filled with urgency. I just look at her, not sure what to say. I finally think of something.

“How did I end up with this in my hands?”

My mother sighs and checks again to make sure we can’t be heard.

“Once every hundred years, the moon chooses two of the descendants of Mozart to possess the power that he had. You were two years old when it chose you.”

I take another long look at her, still trying to wrap my head around all that was just said. I suddenly feel scared and worried. My mother finally looks me in the eye.

“You must learn to control it,” she says sternly. I nod, and we leave.

When we get home, I sit on the couch, staring at the piano in our living room. I had decided to stop playing the piano all together on the ride home, but now as I stare at the keys, I long to play just one more song. I stand up and make my way to the piano.

 “Would you care to explain this?” I whip around to face my mother standing in the kitchen doorway. She is holding a small piece of paper. At the top of the paper it says report card.

“You got an “F” in math and a “D” in social studies,” she says, raising her voice slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I respond weakly.

“What happened? How did you let your grades get this bad?” she asks, still raising her voice.

“I don’t know. I’ve just been busy.”

“Well you can clear your schedule because you’re not going anywhere until all of your grades are up.”

She turns around and walks back into the kitchen. I clench my fists and sit down at the piano, staring at the sheet music. I can’t resist anymore and start to play. I release my anger by pressing hard on the keys. The music flows out of me. She just makes me so mad. I wish I didn’t have a mother to get on my case anymore. Before I realize what I’m doing, it’s too late. My shoulders jolt forward, and my eyes fly open. From the kitchen, my mother screams in pain, and I run to her. She kneels on the floor, pressing her hands to her chest. Tears roll down her face. She looks up at me with a look of complete betrayal.

“No, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to I swear.” Now I’m crying. I crouch down next to her and place my hands against her chest, but I know there’s nothing I can do. What’s done is done, and I can’t take it back. She grips my hands tight.

“It’s okay,” she says, her voice strained. Then all of the muscles in her body relax, and her head falls back. I let out a sob. My shoulders shake. I run to the piano and begin to play. I concentrate on bringing my mother back. All at once, the piano bursts into flames, and I jump back. The piano bench falls over backwards, and I hit my head on the windowsill. Everything goes black as my house goes up in flames.

I wake up to a boy standing over me, looking at me with curiosity. I sit up and instantly regret it. Pain shoots through my head, and I cry out in pain.

“So you’re one this century’s “Chosen Ones”,” he says, using his fingers as quotation marks as I ease myself back down on the pillow.

“How do you know about that?” I ask, rubbing my temples.

“Your house was on fire, and it was obvious that your piano started it. Your mother was dead on the kitchen floor, and you were knocked out under the piano. I assumed you were trying to bring her back. You can’t bring people back from the dead you know.”

“No kidding,” I say dryly.

He smiles slightly, “I’m Ian.”

“I’m Kate. Where are we?”

“My house. We have to leave as soon as you’re able to. They’re on to you.”

“Who are?”

“The government.”

“Great,” I say as I close my eyes, “just great.” I sigh and drift off to sleep.

This time, I wake up alone. I sit up cautiously and turn to get out of bed. My clothes are torn and frayed. With my hand, I feel the back of my head where the windowsill hit and wince. My arms have several minor burns on them, but my legs suffered the most. Getting up is hard, but walking is manageable. A pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and my shoes have been set on the floor next to the bed. They’re exactly my size. I peal off my dirty clothes, carful not to rub the fabric against my burns too much. The clean clothes are uncomfortable, but they’re better than the dirty ones. A loud crash comes from down stairs as I put on my shoes. Ian comes running in. His nose is bleeding, and a long gash runs down his arm.

“Thank God you’re up; we have to go, right now,” he says, panicked.

“What’s going on?” I demand.

“They’ve found us. Come on!” he grabs my arm and drags me to the window, “cover your face.”

Without question, I cover my face with my hands, and Ian smashes through the window. Cop car sirens blare in the distance as Ian takes off towards the back of the house, and I run after him. I round the corner and skid to a stop. A man has Ian up against the side of the house with a gun to his head.

“Stop right there!” he yells at me, and I put my hands in the air, “I will kill him!”

“What do you want with me?” I ask, looking him directly in the eye.

“I need both of you to come with me. Make one move out of line and I’ll shoot him. Now follow me.” He turns to leave, dragging Ian with him, and I put my hands down and follow. As I put my hands down my hands brushes against my phone, sticking out of my pocket. I have an idea, but I’m not sure it’ll work. I pull my phone out of my pocket and open up the app. I take a deep breath and decide it’s worth the risk. I close my eyes, concentrate on Ian and I getting far away from here, and begin to play the piano app on my phone. I play fast with the volume turned way down. My shoulders jerk forward, and my eyes fly open. When I open my eyes, I notice right away that I am not behind Ian’s house anymore. Ian, looking very confused, stands about ten feet in front of me. He turns around to face me and his eyes go to my phone, still on the piano app. Realization washes over his face, and he smiles.

“I did not think you had it in you,” he states as he walks over to me. I can’t help but grin.  

“I honestly didn’t think so either.”

“So where are we?” he asks.

“I was hoping you knew.”

Ian turns to find a street sign. “Darn, we’re on Hall Street. That’s only a block away from my house. We’ve got to keep moving.”

“Where are we going to go? This isn’t like in the movies where the fugitives running from the law conveniently come across an abandoned, unlocked house.”

“Relax Kate; I know a place. Let’s go.”

I sigh and follow him down the street. We come to a house at the end of the block, and Ian lifts up the welcome mat to get the key. He turns the key in the lock, and we go in.

“Whose house is this?” I ask, looking around.

“My friend Max’s. He’s out of town with his family right now,” he replies.

We sit down on the couch with a considerable distance between the two of us. We’re silent for a while until I break the silence.

“You’re the other one aren’t you?”

“What?” he asks, snapping back to reality.

“My mother told me two are chosen every century. You’re the other one aren’t you?”

Ian sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Yes,” he replies, “I found out a few months ago. How’d you know?”

“Why else would you be here? Why would you help me if you weren’t the same as me?” I look him in the eye.

“Why did you decide to trust me?” he questions.

“I don’t know. Probably because I have nothing else to lose,” I respond.

“But you don’t even know me,” Ian countered.

“So tell me about yourself.”

“Okay, well, I’m 18, I’m an only child, and I’ve been living on my own for the past month.”

“What happened to your parents?” I ask.

“My dad died when I was two.”

“And your mom?” I continue.

“Same thing that happened to yours,” he replies sadly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

 He gets up and goes to the kitchen, but I don’t follow him. He returns with a bag of Cheetos. We sit in silence, eating Cheetos. Somebody pounds on the door. A man shouts in a booming voice on the other side of the door.

“FBI, open up!”

Ian swears and jumps to his feet gracefully; I struggle to stand up. He grabs my arm and drags me through the house towards the back. The FBI pounds on the door again.

“Is there a back door?” I whisper.

“They’ll be at the back door, too. We’ll have to climb out of a window.”

Ian pulls me into a different room and closes the door behind us. He runs over to the window, lifts it up, kicks out the screen, and ushers me through. We here the front door get kicked down, and Ian rushes me. Once we’re outside, Ian shuts the window, and we take off at a dead sprint towards a distant field. He’s pulling my arm as we run.

“Let go of me; I can run by myself,” I say, running out of breath. He drops my arm, and we speed up.

We run through the cornfield; Ian is careful not to lose me in the tall corn. After running for what seems like a long time, we finally slow down and come to a walk. Ian walks ahead of me but looks back every once in a while to make sure I’m not too far behind. Finally the field opens up, and we come to a barn. There are no houses around so it seems safe enough.

“How did they find us?” I ask as we lay on top of hay bails.

“It’s the FBI; they know everything. I assumed they would eventually find us, but I thought it would be a day or two.” His eyes are closed even though neither of us are tired.

“Well now what do we do? We have no food, no clean water, no clean clothes, and we can’t stay here because we’re technically trespassing. We have nowhere to go, and it’s only a matter of time before they catch up to us.”

“Will you relax Kate? I have a plan.”

“Do I get to know what this plan is?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

“Not quite yet,” he says, grinning.

“So I’m just supposed to follow you blindly?”

“There really isn’t another option for you is there? Trust me.” His eyes are still closed. His shoulders relax, and his breaths even out; he is asleep. I close my eyes and try to sleep, too, but sleep doesn’t come for a long time. As I sleep, images flash before my eyes: my mother’s betrayed looks as she dies, my childhood home going up in flames, Ian pressed up against the wall with a gun to his head. Ian shakes me awake, and I jolt up, smacking my forehead against his. Ian swears.

“Sorry,” I say as I push myself up.

“We’re leaving,” he says, rubbing his forehead.

We walk down the side of a gravel road, not knowing where it leads. We walk in silence. I sigh and kick a rock away from me.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” I finally ask.

“We’re going back to my house,” he replies.

“What?” I stop in my tracks, “We can’t go back there!”

“We have no choice. We have no money, no food, and no change of clothes. Besides, they won’t expect us to go back.” He keeps walking, and I hurry to catch up.

After much walking, we finally come to the town. Ian walks several steps ahead of me, and I don’t even bother to try and catch up. We cautiously walk up to the front door of his house and turn the door nob. He tells me to wait behind him and then ushers me along. We hear the closet door creek open, and we stop in our tracks. What happens next happens so fast; I don’t even see it coming. A shot cracks through the silence, and suddenly Ian’s knees buckle under him. The bullet hit square in the chest. I scream and crouch down next to him. The soldier comes out of the closet; his gun is aimed at me, but he does not appear to be ready to shoot. He cautiously creeps toward me. Anger rushes through me; I lunge at him. Clearly surprised at my sudden outburst, he stumbles back. My hands wrap around his throat, and my knees pummel his rib cage. He loses consciousness, and I get off of him. I kneel down next to Ian, and he looks up at me. I ease him down so he’s lying down.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes.

“No, it’s okay; I’ll be okay.” A tear escapes; I take ahold of his hand, and he holds on tight. Suddenly his grip loosens, and the lights go out in his eyes. I gently close them and stand up. I sit down at Ian’s grand piano and play. A few chords turn into a whole song. I close my eyes and concentrate. I know that I can’t bring Ian back from the dead, but I concentrate on fixing the mess we have made for ourselves. My shoulders jerk forward, and power surges through me. The soldier suddenly gets up, and I gasp. He looks around, confused. His eyes land on me, and I brace myself, but then he walks out of the house. I let out my breath.

I burry Ian in the back yard myself. I stay the night in the same bedroom that I woke up in the other day. I stay for months, making money off of piano concerts after I finally learn how to control my power. A few months turns into a forever, and Ian’s house becomes my permanent home. Though I have decided to stay, I will probably never fix the broken window in my room.

I, Kate Snow, can make a wish every time I play the piano. As I begin to play, I close my eyes and concentrate on the thing I want most in the world. My fingers move naturally across the piano keys. I know the minute it begins, for shocking power surges through me. It starts in my chest and traveling down my arms, through my fingers, and into the keys. I’ve only ever used this power four times in my lifetime, and I pray to God every day that I never have to use it again.  

The Turn of Events: The Willow Tree part 2

Jason’s room was at the very top floor of the hospital. He was lying in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. When he saw Miranda, his eyes lit up, and he smiled. She returned his grin. Miranda was filled with relief. Then he started choking; he couldn’t breathe. A machine by his bed started beeping loudly. Miranda rushed to his side as a nurse came in.

His last words before he passed out were, “Miranda, I love you.”

Nurses and doctors were filing into the room one after the other. The nurse from the ambulance took Miranda’s arm and tried to lead her out. Miranda screamed that she would not leave Jason. Jason’s mom hugged Miranda and walked her out.  She sat in the waiting room of the hospital, listening to the shouts coming from Jason’s room with her face in her hands and prayed that this was some kind of horrible nightmare, and she would wake up in her tree with Jason by her side. Unfortunately, when Miranda opened her eyes, she was still in the waiting room, sitting across from Jason’s crying mother. Tears were falling from her own eyes, but unlike Jason’s mom’s heaving sobs, Miranda’s tears were silent. Miranda wiped the tears from her eyes with the palm of her hand and stood up. She hugged Ms. Smith goodbye, reassured her that she would be fine walking home by herself, and began her mile long walk home.

When she started her walk, Miranda had intended to walk home, but when she got to her street, she passed her house and went to the park instead. She sat on top of the monkey bars and watched the little kids play. She missed being able to be as careless as those kids. Miranda hopped down from the monkey bars and wandered around the park. A boy who looked around four years old came up to Miranda.

“Will you please tie my shoe?” he asked.

Miranda smiled and crouched down to tie his shoelaces.

“You’ve been crying,” he said, tilting his head to the side as he looked up at her with curious blue eyes.

“No I haven’t,” she replied, feeling a little guilty about lying to a four-year-old.

“Yes you have. My mom cried a lot when my daddy died. I know what a person looks like after they’ve been crying,” he stated.

“You’re very smart,” Miranda replied with a sad smile.

“Why are you sad?”

“My friend is hurt, and he might not make it,” she answered; a single tear ran down her face, and Miranda quickly wiped it away.

“I don’t think your friend wants you to be sad. If he’s a good friend, he would want you to be happy, even if he’s not with you.”

“Did I mention I think you’re very smart?”

The boy smiled and ran off. Miranda, still smiling, sighed and walked back home. She took a long look at the tree before stepping inside. She hadn’t even touched the tree since the incident. In a way, she was almost mad at it. Miranda shook her head and opened the door. Her parents were sitting on the couch when she walked in.

“Hey,” said her dad sympathetically.

“Hi,” Miranda replied.

“So your father and I were talking, and we’ve decided that if you want to skip school tomorrow and stay home or go see Jason, we understand,” declared Miranda’s mother.

Miranda thought for a moment, and then, after remembering her conversation at the park, replied, “Actually, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Really? Are you sure?” asked her dad.

Miranda smiled and nodded. It was a weak smile, but it was real. Her smile even grew a little, when she saw how relieved her mother appeared.

The next day, Miranda ran out of the house with her bag in one hand and a book in the other. When she got on the bus, she hesitated before she sat in a seat in the middle of the bus. The girl in the seat across from Miranda gave her a questioning look, but Miranda just shrugged. On her way to her locker, Miranda walked with her head held high. Doug jumped out of her way as she came striding down the hallway. Some people gave her a look of interest and confusion; Miranda didn’t care. At lunch, she sat at her normal spot, but a couple of people filled in the spots around her.

“Hi, I’m Nicole. Is someone sitting here?”

“No go ahead. I’m Miranda,” she replied.

“Thanks.”

“So we’re sitting here now?” another girl said as she sat down.

“We needed to mix things up. This is Miranda. Miranda this is Erika,” Nicole responded.

It was just about the best lunch she had ever had. The only thing that could have made it better was if Jason was there.

After school, Miranda walked to the hospital to see Jason. Miranda was pleased to see that Jason was awake and, more importantly, alive. Though he was awake, he looked very tired, but he smiled as Miranda sat down in a chair beside his bed.

“How are you feeling?” Miranda asked.

“Great now that you’re here,” he proclaimed with a smile that made Miranda blush.

“That’s good,” said Miranda, and she leaned over and flicked him on the head.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“Quit almost dying on me. It’s annoying.”

“Well I’m sorry. Would it make you happier if next time, instead of almost dying on you, I actually die on you?” Jason was amused.

“Hey, don’t joke about that.”

“I know. The doctor says I might be able to go home tomorrow, for a little while anyway. I’ll need to come back for treatment eventually.”

“That’s good. Will you be coming back to school then?”

“No, not right away. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
“No it’s okay. Things are actually starting to get better at school. I made a few girl friends. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really? Well, then I guess you don’t need me anymore.”

“Jason, don’t even go there. Our friendship is not based on the fact that you stick up for me. You’re not being replaced by a few teenage girls that I met yesterday.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Jason apologizes.

“Yes, well, I’ve got to get going, or I’ll be late for supper. I’ll see you tomorrow. Tomorrow's Saturday, so I don’t have school. You should have your mom drive you to my house. You’ll have to get out on the other side of the street though because they’re working on the road.”

“Ok, bye.”

“Bye,” said Miranda, and she walked out.  

Jason came home from the hospital the next day. His mom dropped him off at Miranda’s house that afternoon. He was sitting in a wheelchair on the other side of the street when Miranda stepped outside into the May weather. The sky was getting darker as if it were going to rain.  

“How’s the weather over there?” Miranda yelled, and Jason grinned back at her.

“Outstanding!”

She raced across the street to meet him, but she didn’t get that far. Miranda was so excited and anxious to see Jason that she didn’t look for cars before crossing the street. The red Mercedes SUV just couldn’t quite get stopped fast enough before plowing into Miranda. Jason shoved himself out of his wheelchair and sprinted to where Miranda’s crushed body lay, gritting his teeth through the pain that ripped through his body with every step. He sank to his knees beside Miranda, tore off his shirt, and attempted to stop the blood with it. His hands shook as he pressed his shirt against the side of her head. It was hopeless, and Jason’s shirt was soon soaked with blood. Miranda’s breaths and heart beat began to slow.

“No, no, no, no. Oh my God no, Miranda!” he yelled as he pulled her into his lap.

Drops of rain began to fall from the sky just as drops of tears began to fall from Jason’s eyes. She looked up at him and reached up to touch his face, leaving a trail of blood across his cheek. Miranda smiled at him as the world around her began to fade.

Using her last dying breath, and as the lights went out in her eyes, she said to him, “I love you too, Jason.”   

    

The Willow Tree

Miranda Summers sat in the branches of the willow tree in her backyard. It was a big, old weeping willow tree that sat in the back corner of Miranda’s yard. Miranda had loved that tree since she was five. There was an opening in the branches of the tree that was just big enough for a now 14-year-old Miranda and her book bag. Miranda spent hours every day in that tree. She had carved words, pictures, letters, and designs into the branches of the tree with a pocketknife that she kept in a hole in the tree. Miranda usually read or did her homework in the tree, but today she just sat there. Tears ran down her cheeks. Miranda’s mother called her in for dinner, but Miranda ignored her. After the third time she called, Miranda’s mom decided that it was no use and went back inside. Miranda turned the pocketknife over in her hand. She grit her teeth and stabbed the knife into the tree. She sobbed until she had cried herself asleep in the tree.

The next morning, Miranda woke up only to find herself still in the tree. She crawled rather ungracefully down the tree. She trudged across the dewy grass and into her house. In the bathroom mirror, she could see that her cheeks were tear stained, and her dark chocolate hair was matted and tangled. Miranda ran a brush through her hair, splashed some water on her face, and slumped into the kitchen. Her mother was scrambling eggs on the stove, and her father was straightening his tie.

“Oh good you’re up,” said Mrs. Summers as she set a plate of food on the table for Miranda.

Miranda didn’t reply. She had hardly touched her food before the bus pulled up outside. She hugged her parents goodbye and ran out the door with her backpack hanging from one shoulder. The April breeze swept the hair off her face. She sat down in her usual spot on the bus, and as the bus pulled away from the curb, Miranda prayed that today would be better than yesterday.

Miranda sat, oblivious to the chaos around her, until the bus came to a halt at the front door of the school. After heaving a great sigh, she stood up and slung her heavy backpack over her shoulder. Miranda usually waited to be the last one off the bus so that people did not step on her heals.  After falling in line behind everyone else, Miranda walked with her head held down, trying to blend in with the crowd of people around her. She was trying to make her way through the crowd to her locker, when a foot came out of nowhere and tripped her. The hallway was filled with the sounds of laughter as Miranda scrambled to grab her things before anyone took them. She looked around at everyone who stood around her. A boy was making his way through the crowd to her. With a sad look in his eyes, he held out a hand to her. Jason Smith was her best and only friend. Miranda sighed and took his hand, and he helped her up. Some people were still laughing, but most people had gone back to their business. Jason held her wrist in his hand and led the way through the crowd to Miranda’s locker. Jason stared at her as Miranda put books in her locker and exchanged them for different ones. Without saying anything, Miranda slammed her locker, and they both walked silently to their first class.

Miranda and Jason met when they were seven at the park down the street from Miranda’s house. She had fallen from the monkey bars, and he had come along and picked her up. Little did he know that that wouldn’t be the last time he would help her up off the ground. Jason had always stuck up for Miranda. Once, at the pool, a boy called Miranda fat, and Jason punched him square across his jaw. They had walked out of the swimming pool with Jason’s fist wrapped and bloody.

Miranda and Jason sat in the back of their math class. They were the two smartest kids in the school, despite the fact that they hardly ever payed attention. Neither of them had ever missed more than half a point on a test in their whole lives, so the teachers never really cared what they did as long as they did their homework and didn’t miss any on it. They usually read or did other homework, but today they just sat there. It hadn’t been the first time people had laughed at her, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.  Miranda was used to it, but it was starting to get really old. Jason spent the entirety of the class thinking and often taking sideways glances at Miranda. The bell rang, and they both wrote down their homework assignment. Neither of them said much of anything to each other until lunch. Miranda was the first to speak.

“It’s getting really old.”

Jason replied, “I know.”

“I honestly don’t understand what makes me that much different from everyone else. Do I really stick out that much?”

“No. I don’t understand either.”

The second half of school was just as depressing as the first. The usual people made fun of her. When school finally ended, Jason and Miranda walked home in silence to her house. Miranda had shown Jason her tree when they were ten. He had thought the tree was beautiful. He had sat in the tree with her and wiped her tears away so many times, it was hard to count. Today was no different. Jason watched her as she carved an intricate design into the tree’s bark with her usual pocketknife. He was amazed that she could even find a blank space considering how many things she had carved. Some were just slash marks from where Miranda had taken out her anger on the tree. Those were the days that he had not been able to be there with her. Jason watched her carefully and was always quick to take the pocketknife out of her hand if she started shaking too much. He always felt it was his job to protect Miranda not only from other people, but from herself as well. He did a good job of it too, but today, he got distracted. When Jason looked back over at Miranda she was shaking. Tears were rolling down her cheeks like rivers, and she had a long red gash down the side of her thumb. Jason nearly jumped on her. He chucked the knife to the ground. Jason wrapped her thumb in his shirt.

“What were you thinking?” he asked, trying hard to stay calm but failing.

Through tears Miranda replied, “I wasn’t.”

Jason wiped the tears from her eyes and brushed back her hair. Miranda put her head on his shoulder and cried her heart out. Jason hated to see her like that.

“You scared the heck out of me Miranda,” he said in a gentle voice.

“I’m sorry,” she replied.

“I know things are rough. You don’t deserve it, but you can’t let them get to you. None of the stuff they say is true. You’re unique, and that scares some people.”

“You don’t understand how hard that is.”

“Don’t I? It’s hard being your friend. You know that?”

Miranda didn’t reply.

“But I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

A very, very small smile played with the corners of Miranda’s mouth. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her. Their faces were inches from each other when there was a loud crack. The branch they were on snapped, and they both fell thirty feet to the ground. Miranda was so surprised that she didn’t have time to scream. She felt his arms wrap around her, and just as she realized what he was doing, they hit the ground with Miranda on top of Jason.

“No, no, no,” Miranda said as she crawled off of Jason; she had never been more scared in her life.

Jason’s eyes were open, but his breaths were slow and struggled. Miranda screamed for her parents.

“Jason please try. Don’t leave me,” Miranda’s tears soaked the front of Jason’s shirt.

Miranda wrapped her arms around him. Her hand found something behind him. When she realized what it was, she screamed. Sticking out just below his right shoulder blade was Miranda’s pocketknife that Jason had thrown down from the tree.

Miranda’s parents came running from the house. She could hear the sound of ambulance sirens in the distance. They tried to pull her off of Jason, but Miranda only screamed louder. Eventually the ambulance pulled into the yard, and people dressed in green were running at them with a stretcher. For Jason’s sake, Miranda had no choice but to let them take him. She begged her parents to let her go with him to the hospital.

“You won’t be able to see him until tomorrow anyways because they’ll be operating on him,” they had said.

“I don’t care. It’s my fault, I should be there for him,” she replied, her voice wavering.  

“ Oh Miranda, it’s not your fault. You didn’t make that branch break,” said Miranda’s mom.

“Mom, you can’t possibly tell me that if dad died of an unnatural cause you wouldn’t find some way to blame it upon yourself. And anyways, this is different,” Miranda couldn’t bring herself to tell them about the pocketknife.

“Different how?”

Miranda just shook her head; she was still crying. A sympathetic look appeared on Mrs. Summer’s face.

“Fine. Go,” she said turning to go back to the house to call Jason’s mother.

Without hesitation, Miranda sprinted to the back of the ambulance and hopped in. As the ambulance pulled away, Miranda tried her best to stay out of the way of the nurses trying frantically to stabilize Jason. A nurse sat down next to her and handed Miranda a box of Kleenexes. Tears were still rolling easily down her face. Miranda muttered thanks and took them from the nurse.

“What’s your name?” the nurse asked.

“Miranda Summers.”

“Well Miss Summers, they’re trying as hard as they can to stabilize him, but even if they can save him, there may be some permanent damage. The nurses are fairly certain it will not be fatal,” said the nurse, trying really hard to sound reassuring but failing.

“What kind of damage are we talking about?” asked Miranda.

“Well we can’t be sure until we get to the hospital, but we think he may have broken a few ribs. Worst case scenario he damaged his spine, and that knife punctured his lung, but again, that’s worst case scenario.”

Miranda put her face in her hands.

“You know he saved my life,” she said.

“You’re very lucky to have a boyfriend like that,” said the nurse as she turned to leave.

“I know,” was all Miranda said.

The nurses rushed Jason through a set of double doors. Miranda was told to wait in the waiting room until someone came to get her. It had been ten minutes, and Miranda was flipping through the pages of a magazine, when Jason’s mother came running in out of breath. Miranda jumped to her feet. Jason’s mom hugged Miranda, and they both sat down. Jason’s mom was full of questions. Miranda explained what had happened. She said they were doing homework in the tree, and Jason had dropped the pocketknife. Miranda did not feel that it was necessary to go in to detail about what had happened in the tree.

“I am so sorry Ms. Smith,” said Miranda when she finished.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” said Ms. Smith.

Just then, a doctor walked into the waiting room. He saw Miranda and Ms. Smith and walked toward them. He sat in a seat across from them and shook each of their hands.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Stuart. I have good news and bad news. The good news is that though he landed on his back, his spine is not permanently damaged, and the knife did not puncture his lungs. However, since he was here, we ran some tests. I don’t know how to break it to you, and I am so sorry, but Jason has cancer in his lungs.”

Miranda felt as though her heart had been pulled out of her chest. She stared at Dr. Stuart in complete shock. Ms. Smith broke down in tears, but Miranda could not comfort her. Miranda felt dizzy, but instead of fainting, she threw up in the wastebasket next to her seat. She ran to the bathroom, leaving a sobbing Ms. Smith.

Miranda was sitting in a bathroom stall on a closed toilet seat crying, when the door opened. They knocked softly on the stall door.

“Miss Summers?” it was the nurse from the ambulance.

“Miss Summers, your parents are here to get you.”

Miranda opened the stall door. The nurse led the way out, and Miranda followed. Her parents were standing by the door. Miranda walked passed them, and they followed her to the car in silence. The silence continued through out the ride home. The car pulled into the driveway, and everyone got out. Before stepping inside, Miranda looked at her tree. The branch that they had been sitting on was lying on the ground along with other small branches. The grass was stained with blood where Jason had been lying only hours before. Miranda couldn’t stand to look anymore, so she stepped inside. Her parents were sitting at the table when she walked in. They invited her to sit with them, and she did.

“So we were talking with Dr. Stuart, and it’s not as bad as you think,” Mrs. Summers started, “They were able to catch it really early, and they’ve already started the treatment. He said it’s stage two.”

“So in a way, it’s almost a good thing that he fell from that tree. If he hadn’t, they would have found much later,” said Mr. Summers.

Miranda didn’t reply. She stood up and walked away. Once she was in her room, Miranda collapsed on her bed and cried herself asleep.

The next morning, Miranda was woken up by the sounds of her mother calling her name. She got dressed, put her shoes on, ran a brush through her hair, and went downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. Her father had already left for work, but her mother was making waffles. Miranda did not get the chance to sit down because the bus pulled up outside. Mrs. Summers handed Miranda a waffle in a napkin, and Miranda ran out the door.

The bus ride was the same as it always was. She sat in the back, and she was the last one off of the bus. In the hallways, Miranda was careful not to trip. Jason would not be there to help her up if she did. As Miranda was putting books in her locker, a boy walked up to her. It was the guy from the pool.

“Jason’s not hear to protect you anymore is he?” he said.

“Leave me alone, Doug.”

“Make me. I dare you to,” he sneered.

Before Miranda could think twice about what she was doing, she grabbed his hair with both hands and kneed him below the belt. He doubled over. Miranda slammed her locker and walked away. She had wanted to do that for a long time, but Jason had always stopped her.

Miranda sat in the back of her math class alone and read To Kill a Mockingbird. Occasionally, someone would throw a wad of paper at her, but she didn’t care. Lunch was the worst. She sat alone and wished the cooks hadn’t made peas. Her table was covered in peas that people had thrown at her, using their spoons as catapults. Though Miranda did feel a small amount of triumph when Doug ran away from her in the lunch line. As Miranda was rearranging the food on her plate, a teacher walked up to her.

“Miranda, Ms. Smith is here to take you to the hospital to see Jason.”

“Okay, thank you,” she replied.

Miranda dumped her tray, grabbed her stuff out of her locker, and signed out at the office. Ms. Smith was sitting in her car waiting for Miranda. When she saw her, she forced a smile. Miranda got in, and Ms. Smith drove away from the school.

“How was school?” asked Ms. Smith.

“Fine. How’s Jason?” replied Miranda.

“He’s awake. I came to get you because he was asking for you.”

They pulled into the hospital parking lot. They walked quickly into the hospital. Jason’s room was at the very top floor of the hospital. He was lying in the hospital bed staring at the ceiling. When he saw Miranda, his eyes lit up, and he smiled. She returned his grin. Miranda was filled with relief. Then he started choking. He couldn’t breathe. A machine by his bed started beeping loudly. Miranda rushed to his side as a nurse came in.

His last words before he passed out were, “Miranda, I love you.”

To be continued.