I ran my fingers through the bright red streak in my hair. I couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t me. Then I remembered, this was the new me. This was who I choose to be me. Therefore, this was very me.

I left the bathroom and nearly got lost on the way to my room. The yellow on the walls cracked and looked nicotine stained. There were rust colored drops coming from the ceiling that I guess was from the upper apartment’s plumbing. I also noticed there were no curtains on the window, but it was ok because there was a brick wall outside of it.

There was a knock at the door. When I opened the old oak wood that barely passed as a door, a wide lady in a big blue dress, with a stretched peacock tattoo on her forearm stood before me. She spoke with the voice of a 60 year old woman from Brooklyn. “I’m ya new landlord. Ya want something, do it ya self. And no cocaine or alcoholic beverages! No parties. You hardcore kids throw these huge parties and leave the place trashed. This time I’m not toleratin’ it.”

I wanted to agree nicely and convince her I’d be no problem, like the old Victoria would have done. But now I was Seattle Victori..er…Vicky. I was a rough as nails tough-ass bitch. This was my landlord though, so I figured I should be nice. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Kids these days…” she mumbled while stumbling away.  I soon found myself back in the bathroom. The red streak was not the only difference. The face in the mirror wore heavy black eyeliner and bright red lipstick. Her bottom lip was pierced twice, “snake bites” as they call it. Her right eyebrow also had a ring going through it. On her neck she wore a black leather dog collar. The red corset type top she wore was low and accented her little breasts as well as possible. Her midriff was bare and legs were squeezed by midnight black skinny jeans. Her boots matched her bracelet. Leatherish with silver spikes poking out. The girl in the mirror was not Victoria. But she was Vicky.

I didn’t exactly remember why there was such a drastic change in my appearance. I think part of it was rebellion and the rest was fear. I moved to Seattle and was scared, so I drew out a faux personality. ; Something other than my stuffed gerbil, to make me feel safe.

The next few weeks I stayed mainly in my apartment trying to forget about my parents. I was 18 and across the United States from them, yet they still seemed to control my life. This is when I knew I had to step up my “bad-ass-ness.”

That day I walked over to SaveMart. I didn’t get more then 5 elderly women look at me and that was just not acceptable. I took out my keys and as I diagonally paced through the parking lot I dug my house key into a reddish pick-up truck. The screeching noise was music to my ears. I then ran into a white Pontiac and kicked the bumper while running the keys all through the paint.  After about 3 more cars were cosmetically destroyed, I went inside the store. I still hadn’t got the attention I wanted.

When I appeared in the store I feel like everyone should have gasped and cuddled their children. Obviously though they didn’t. In a way I was glad, but in a bigger more powerful way, I was pissed. I put my hands under the card table draped with a pink tablecloth and covered with clear boxes filled with chocolate chip cookies. Quickly I thrust my hand up and the table flipped over, spilling happy and chocolaty goodness everywhere. I smiled (evilly) as I heard a few people gasp, but not many were by the front door.

I started to walk through the store, stomping on the cookies, smearing melted chocolate on my shiny high heeled boots. Everything on a counter or on and end cap was soon covering the green and white tiled floor. At least 800 dollars worth of food was open and unsellable by the time anyone approached me. He was thin and about 5’3. Baldness was a very distinct characteristic of his appearance. Dark brown eyes stared up at me trying to be menacing, but me being seven inches taller kind of made me the more intimidating one. He went at it anyway though, “Young lady!” he yelled even though I was right in front, well above him. “You stop it right now. You have to pay for all the food you have trashed. I’m calling the police…”

I figured if the police were coming I might as well really have fun. Before I knew it, my leg was rising and my foot was in his groin. He squealed while falling to the floor and I pushed, trying to knock over the aisles like in the movies. Unfortunately, they were bolted to the ground and I couldn’t move them. So I just ran through the store knocking literally everything off the shelves. Not much joy came from the boxes falling. Most of my smiles came from glass jars and the smell of pickle juice, grape jam, and egg yolk. I was already to the soda aisle before the cops came.

The entire store had been emptied and there wasn’t much point in fighting with them. I got handcuffed and was escorted out. While being manhandled into a cell I realized the problem with being Vicky. The bracelets and makeup were taken off. The problem was I wasn’t Vicky. Vicky was in jail right now but when she got out, Victoria was moving back to Louisiana in a nice house with floral print fabric and parental support. Now that, was the old me, but after the knowledge I had gained, it was also the new me.

“Every one hush up! The test is starting.”
I was sitting at a plain old desk amongst a bunch of other plain old desks in plain old school. The teacher was moving through us, setting a paper on each desk. She had a blank face. No emotion at all, like he was in another place.
My face was blank too. I was too busy thinking of problems that wouldn’t appear on the test. My girlfriend, Stacy, kept springing to mind. She was a cheerleader; that I had no problem with. The problem was her late-night practices, and how she would return sweaty and tired every night. I told myself that I was crazy, that she would never do what I was suspecting, but it still came to mind.
“This test will consist of…” the teacher dully went on.
It wasn’t rational of me to think this way. Or was it? I wasn’t sure. Most likely, this was just nerves. Big test, big worries. The teacher finished passing out the test, mouthing something about stopping when she said to. Or maybe she spoke it. Once again, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about a lot of things lately.
I snapped out of my girlfried worries as the overweight lady in the pink floral moooo snapped, “You may begin.” I brushed the sweat from my brows, ran a hand through my hair, and slowly opened up my test booklet. I could finish this easily. I don’t know why, but for some reason I had developed a belief that I would be able to get through the dumb test.
My mind changed when I looked at the questions.
Question 1: Stacy how are you?
a)I’m doing good…
b)Charles, there’s someone else.
c)Good, now that you’re here.
d)Hey honey. It’s going okay. Want to go get ice cream?
I choked on my own saliva. It said Stacy! What kind of sick joke was this? I immediately dismissed it as pre-test jitters (again), and circled letter B. Then I moved on quickly to the next question trying to forget the former.
This was only what I had expected. I had never questioned that she was a cheerleader; it was her life and she could do with it what she wanted. It just seemed that, time in and time out, cheerleading seemed to be more important then me. This was not OK.
UGH! What kind of test was this? I promised myself that I would endure one more question before asking the admin if I was on Punk’d or Candid Camera or something of the sort. Next question.
Question 2: Define marvelous.
a) superb
b) the word Stacy says when Micheal kisses her neck
c) average
d) stupid
I saved myself the trouble of choking on my spit again and coughed out of surprise. I coughed partially because this answer was also B, but more importantly because this test was pushed the concept of my girlfriend’s possible cheating, yet it was my ticket into college. And I was failing! I raised my hand quickly and the lady waddled over to my desk.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
I pointed to the questions in front of me about my girlfriend’s possible situation. She looked at them, and then looked back.
“What’s the problem?”
I looked down at the test questions again. The word Stacy never appeared. I was seriously going insane. I sighed and said, “Nevermind.” She rolled her eyes and retreated to her desk. I took a deep breathe, shoke my head as if to wake up and looked at the next question.
Question 3: Revise the bracketed section of the following sentence- The cheerleader whispered that Charles [never needed to know] about her and Micheal.
a)was completely oblivious
b)knew completely and was furious
c)didn’t have a clue
d)No revision needed.
I was glad to have a question with an answer other than B. I circled D and moved on. The answers to the next questions seemed to be spelling something out
b)the spot where we first got ice cream
a)on the lips
c)possibly because she’s bored
d)the captain of the football team
a)is cheating with your girlfriend
b)you can’t do anything
b)under the bleachers after practice
d) after school in the locker room
c)every day you’re not there.
By the time I was finished with the English section I wanted to scream! I was so relieved when it was over, only to remember I had the Math section still. It was never my strong suit. English was usually my favorite, though at that moment I despised it with my heart.
Question 1: If a cone has a circular base with radius r and the height h is 4/3 the length of the radius, how much will the cone hold in volume?
a) 4/3π
b) Not enough to save your relationship with Stacy
c) 3/5
d) 4/3 x 2 + 63
Again, the answer was B.
Question 2: If x = 3/4 y + 14z, what does x/3 equal in terms of v, if v = 3/8 y + 7z?
a) 8v/2
b) x = v(ery likely your relationship is over)
c) x/6 x 3
d) None of the above
I was sick of the letter B. It made me want to puke. I sighed and tried to concentrate, knowing that my relationship was over, whether this stupid test was right or not. Even if she wasn’t cheating on me with the football captain, breaking up with her will stop the constant fear and worry I have. I just wanted to pass this test and get to college. Leave all this crap behind. Leave her behind. I answered the last four questions, and dropped off my test. I didn’t know how many people had finished, I just needed to find Stacy. End this all…

“Your music is kind of loud.”
“Yeah well good thing it’s MY music huh?”
“He is right young lady; blasting your music is very disrespectful and not everyone around you would like to hear it.”
“Ugh old people!” I hated this stupid bus ride. I was the only one under I was listening to good music, just not from their generation. The lady next to me gave me a sympathetic look and I turned away toward the window. She smelled like lavender and ocean breeze. It didn’t mesh well with my coconut hand lotion.
I pulled out my journal from my near empty backpack and started writing.
I shouldn’t even be on the bus. My dad is sending me to meet my mom again. I really don’t want to go to her though. The way I see it, if she wants to get to know me, she can drive her ass down here.
“You should give your mom more credit” a voice interrupted.
“Excuse me!” I said defensively while slamming my notebook. “Did I give you permission to read this? No, I didn’t, and I definitely didn’t ask your opinion.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just saying. You don’t know what she is going through right now and how she feels about you.”
‘You don’t know anything about me or my mom!”
“I know you are angry and you are hurt. You feel your mom betrayed you. I know your parents got divorced, probably after a legal problem like drugs or DUI. I also know people make mistakes and you are blocking your mom out, when she may be trying to apologize.”
I was shocked. ‘Who the HELL do you think you are? You have no right to judge me or my family, and no right to read over my shoulder. BUTT! OUT!” I stood up and pushed my way out of the seat, landing in another one a few rows back next to a hairy gentleman. I would have rather sat next to a woman but the nosy one was the only one on the bus.
I had only been on the bus for 45 minutes and had 6 and a half hours to go. I figured I could try to sleep and it would get me out of listening to these old people, slowly talk to each other about books, crafts, and the good old days.
Falling asleep was easy. I started dreaming as the noise of rattling dentures faded, laughter and music. I saw many lights swirling around and teddy bears galore! The smell was of cotton candy, kettle corn, and corn dogs. I had seen this carnival before. I was looking down on a little girl standing in the walkway, looking around as if she were lost.
She started running and was suddenly in a fun house. She was crying and confused. The lights in the fun house flickered as clowns popped out of the primary colored walls and laughed maniacally. She ran from them almost tripping on her untied shoelaces. Sooner then she thought she was looking in a mirror. Now he young girl was tall and lean. Though she was crying, she looked much more confident.
Walking slowly, she looked at herself in every mirror. When she came to the one where there were three of her, and she thought someone was behind her. The little girl ignored it and went to the next mirror. She was small in the mirror and could see the other women clearly. The other woman was my mother, but the girl wasn’t me. The girl picked up her pace and so did my mom. Every corner confused the young girl, as it was a maze. My mother knew he way out yet followed her. The girl screamed as my mom’s gentle hand grabbed her shoulder.
“SCREEECH!” I was awoken with a jolt and hit my head on the seat in front of me. Everyone was murmuring. I wondered why the bus had stopped so suddenly. I thought we may have arrived, yet the halt seemed too aggressive for that.
A short man walked onto the bus. He was wearing a bowler hat and a monkey mask. He also wore a nice suit with a red tie. He was a very odd man. He reached into the coat and pulled out his gun. “Everyone to the back of the bus! You too driver!!!!’ He yelled with an authoritarian voice.
Everyone seemed very scared and squealed while running back to where I and the weird man were sitting. I wanted to be scared, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t anything. Suddenly my emotions seemed numb.
“Get closer together!” he yelled.
Everyone scrunched together and the dumb lady from earlier was practically sitting on my lap.
“Now listen,” he started, “I don’t want to hurt any of you nice seniors, so don’t make me. All I want is a helicopter. The cops will come and after a while of begging, I will get my way and disappear. Don’t get in my way and everything will be fine. Got it?”
No one said anything. Only half could even hear him.
“I said got it?” he yelled while raising his gun.
“GOT IT!” I, and only I, yelled.
He laughed and stared talking while looking directly at me. “Mam you look so young! You couldn’t be a day over 16! Haha. You got a cell phone right?”
I nodded and couldn’t believe he was laughing. I was scared now.
“Call 911. Tell them I’m holding y’all hostage etc etc etc. Even cry if you want. Just don’t forget to tell them I want an unarmed, untracked helicopter or I’m gonna kill you all. Haha.”
I knew I couldn’t speak but I pulled out my cell phone and dialed. I could not risk angering him.
“911, what is your emergency?”
I remained silent, even though I opened my mouth.
“911, what is your emergency?” She repeated.
The lady next to me smiled at me reassuringly and took the phone. “Hi, this is Maria Goldstein. I am on a shuttle bus to Colorado from Maine and we are probably about halfway there. A man in his mid 30s has a gun and is holding us hostage. There are about 31 of us including a young lady who has her life ahead of her. He says he wants a helicopter that is not being tracked or he will kill us. Please hurry.”
“We are sending help right away Ms. Goldstein. Please stay calm and do what he says.”
“Yes. Goodbye.” Her voice was so smooth. She didn’t stutter. While everyone else was shaking she was calm. I was still slightly angry at her for butting into my life, but couldn’t’ help but to put my head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around me and it was very comforting.
The next  hour was fairly boring. All the old men continued with their talks but quieter, Maria and I just sat there holding each other, and he man holding us hostage played with his gun. It wasn’t as bad as the movies, but there was this underlying fear. I was probably the most scared. They were all going o die soon anyway. I had a life and many many years ahead of me! I was very happy when I heard the sirens. Finally this was going to be over.
“Come out with your hands up Javier.” A police officer said over the intercom.
“Where’s my helicopter?” he yelled.
The cops said if he let us all go, they would work out he details. Javier didn’t like that. He grabbed an old man and put the gun to his head. Within 5 seconds he set the man back down and grabbed my shoulder. I started screaming as the cold metal pushed against the side of my head.
“Get me my fucking helicopter or the girl dies!”
“Ok ok sir. Please be patient and put the gun down. We are trying to arrange something.”
I ran back to the women, crying. She was my rock. The only thing keeping me comfortable right now. She held me and cooed like I was a 2 year old with a boo-boo but I didn’t complain. As Javier sat down and it was quiet again, she tried to change the subject and get me talking again.
“I’m sorry for butting in earlier. What are really your problems with your mom? You can vent to me dearie.”
She did well at distracting me because I forgot about the criminal and wanted to hurt her. I calmed down and told her the truth.
“My mom was accused of the rape of a little girl three years ago. She got out on bail. I don’t know if she did or not but my dad insists on me staying in contact with her.”
“Oh honey I’m so sorry. But she is your mom. Maybe you should talk to her  about it. I’m sure she’d like to tell you her side of he story. No mother wants her daughter to hate her. When my daughter was two, I left her with her dad. I was young and not ready to be a mom. I came back 5 years later and she despised me. She blamed me for everything because I had hurt her. It took 25 years to gain her trust and now we have an amazing relationship.”
“Wow really? That is so sweet!”
I got wrapped up in the conversation and quickly Javier was out of the bus and under arrest, and the bus was moving again. Talk about a rock!
“You know what, I think I will. Thank you so much Mrs. Goldstein.”
“Anytime dearie.” She said with that sweet old lady smile.

As I rode my bike trough the twists and curves of the leave drenched road I saw them; the perfect family. There was a dad probably about 6 foot 1 wearing jeans, and a light blue shirt. He probably worked a lot on the weekdays and had the weekends left to spend with his family. The mom was, well, average looking. She had dirty blonde hair to her shoulders. She wore a classy white shirt with pink flowers that was perfect for a nice autumn day like this. Then there were two children, a little boy about seven and a little girl about four years old. All four family members were holding hands and strolling with smiles.
It irritated me how perfect their family was. If I could even get my family out together at the same time, there is no way we would be holding hands, let alone smiling. My bike passed by them and I heard them giggling at some joke the son told. This really sickened me. I pedaled faster and when I was well away from them I slowed and sat on a bench.
I was across from the children’s playground but there were only two children. They were swinging on the swings and although they were only about six, I didn’t see a parent or guardian around. Curious, I walked towards them. Everything seemed perfectly fine until I heard a scream. It was a piercing scream, the kind that you still hear even when it’s stopped. The kids were not the screamers and my first thought was that it could be their parent. I to the kids to stay where they were and ran towards scream.
The woman was screaming again so she made it easy to find her. As I turned the corner I was surprised to see the mother of the perfect family, screaming and crying. I hate to say that I was kind of smiling inside. Maybe their family wasn’t perfect. Maybe he beat her or her kids were brats that flipped out when she said no to their request for ice cream.
I soon felt bad for wishing that. Dad was on the phone with 911 and the confused kids were sitting on a park bench mumbling. I walked up to the women hesitantly, having no idea what her next step was. “Wh-what happened?” I asked
“My hair! The bird!” She stopped talking after that as she fell into a huge rush of tears and I wondered why. The bird shit in her hair so what? Were they THAT perfect? I then saw she was pointing to the ground. I screamed too as I saw a bloody finger lying on the ground. Looking around I realized that the family all had their fingers, and connected that the bird dropped the finger in the women’s hair. No wonder she flipped out.
When I realized there was nothing I could do here but freak her and myself out more, I ran back to the children’s playground. The 2 kids weren’t there anymore and then I was very confused. Their parent must of picked them up. They couldn’t of gotten very far. I hopped on my bike and rode around until I saw a man in a black hoodie rushing the kids into his car and driving off. It wasn’t a kidnapping but he seemed so sketchy and nervous.
As I began to wonder if the finger and the kids connected in some way, I stopped myself. I’m not a cop or detective. What business do I have figuring it out? If I give the police all the information I have, I’m helping enough. I don’t need to do this. When I heard the women scream again, along with police sirens, I gave up that thought and decided that I did need to do this and I was going to.
I went to the restroom and when I returned to the “crime scene” the police were investigating and the news crew was showing up. I didn’t see the finger anywhere, and that irked me a bit because that is lost information. I felt like Nancy Drew or Harriet the Spy. I could be Investigator Misa. However, if I’m going to call myself an investigator I need to start investigating more!
My first thought was the man who took the children. He wasn’t with them when it happened or right before. What if he cut off someone’s finger and the bird picked it up? That would explain the rushing away while the woman was screaming. I decided to check it out, but first I took out my cell phone and snapped a few pictures of the crime scene and blood on the ground.
The man’s car was a black car. Small, I think it was a Camry. I also remember it had no plates. This was going to be difficult. I didn’t even know kids’ names! They were both blonde girls and about 6 years old. Finding myself in a stump, I kicked a nearby sign. The sign fell to the ground and as I put it back I saw it said “Smile you are on camera!”
Within a second I was on my bike again going towards the park’s little office. That was probably where the tapes were that recorded the man. If I can get a better look at him and the girls, I’m more likely to find him. When I got to the office there was nobody there. That didn’t surprise me because this is such a small park, but it was still a relief. All I had to do was break one little lock and I was in. Thank goodness our town is safe enough we don’t bolt everything. Well, it was safe enough. Now there was a finger cutting maniac on the loose! I got a rock and slammed it against the lock twice. I was in, and couldn’t believe my eyes.

The room was dark and musky with odd buzzing noises . It wasn’t as dusty as I thought it would be, but it had obviously been cleaned recently. There were several tables of different shapes and sizes, forming a rectangle, like a game of Tetris. Tools covered the tables, but not the kind you would imagine to see in a park maintenance office. These tools were definitely not leaf blowers, wrenches, and paintbrushes. There was a giant saw and scalpels. Bottles of some clearish liquid, gauze, wires, needles, matches, and rope. I snapped a picture and turned around hoping to find the tapes and get out of here.
All I found though, was a man. He was very tall and bald. He had an oval face with closed eyes. His chest was showing through his shredded shirt and had obvious wounds and scars on it. He was wearing pants that were drenched in what looked like grease or mud. When my eyes reached his bare feet, I saw the chains holding him there. I quickly looked up and noticed his hands tied above his head and also in chains. I ran over and looked at his hands. Just as I expected, he had only 9 fingers.
Quickly, I ran out of the room and nearly threw up. I was so appalled at the sight. After a few moments of much needed fresh air, I remembered why I went in there. I had to pass the man again to get to the tapes, but it was going to be worth it. Besides, I didn’t get to take pictures of the man or his missing finger, and I figured that was critical information. While taking the pictures, I realized he was still alive. I grabbed a knife but it wouldn’t cut through the chains.
“Hello? Can you hear me? Can you speak? Sir what’s wrong? Talk to me please.” He wasn’t responding so I gently slapped his face. I saw a bottle of water and reached to grab it. I tripped over a big black wire and came crashing to the cement floor spilling the water. I then followed the wire and saw the other end, a piece of metal that was making the buzzing noise I heard. It was attached to the man’s feet. I quickly unplugged it and slightly slapped him again. “Wake up!” I could feel tears backing up under my eyelids. This was very emotional. I had no idea who this man was, yet I cared so much. He had his finger sawed off and had been electricuted and cut and burned. He had to wake up he just had to.
After a few minutes of tears, I got myself together and decided to tell the cops what I saw. I had the tape but didn’t need it or want it at all anymore. I was done with this. This was over for me.  Investigator Misa no more. I was sad, desperate, scared Misa and I needed help.
I walked out of the room aand saw the cops driving away. Shit. I was stuck in this. I just wanted a nice bike ride. How did this all happen?!? A moment later I heard a moan. It was thew man from the shed. I ran in there expecting to see him awake. Instead, I saw a familiar looking man near the man I thought was dead. I turned on the lights quickly while yelling, “STOP!”
The man stuttered because he knew I recognized him. It was the father. The perfect father. That vision shook me up quite a bit. He was so perfect looking out with his family, yet so evil looking with this man. “What. Are. You. DOING?”
“This isn’t what it looks like. Just sit down and we will talk about it.”
“No. I’m calling the police. You are horrible! Why would you torture this man? This is just, oh my god I can’t believe you!”
“No. No. No. No. Listen to me. This is all fake. Tell her Robert.”
The tortured man lifted his head with ease and smiled. “Don’t worry! It’s all a show. This is fake.” His voice was perfect and unharmed. I was so confused. I sat down without thinking. I don’t think I could of stood again if I wanted to. My body had gone into shock. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“Ok um what is your name?”
“M-Mmm-Miisaaa.” I barely replied.
“OK Misa listen. No one is hurt. Robert and my wife and the kids were all in on it.”
“No one ishurt?” I yelled. “Nice fucking try! I already saw him. He is bruised and bloody and missing a finger! I consider that hurt!”
“No seriously,” the tortured man began, “The only thing that hurt was you slapping me earlier.  I wanted to open my eyes just to tell you to stop, but that would blow everything.”
“Everything? What is everything? What is this all about? Why would you do it? And if you didn’t cut off his finger, who did and where did the other finger come from?” I realized I was still yelling as the mom walked out of the back room, perfectly composed. Again I started crying. This was unreal. What the hell was going on? Why did I have to get involved?
The mom ran up to me and held me comfortingly. Even though she was part of this whole mess, I didn’t fight back. “You said your name was Misa?”
I nodded between sobs.
“OK listen Misa, my name is Anna Stone.”
“Wait.” I sat up and confronted her face to face. “The Anna Stone?” She looked familiar in a way but I never would of placed her. “Like the author of Wizard School’s Anna Stone?”
This time she nodded.
“Oh my god wasthis all a publicity stunt?” I thought of this because her new book comes out in about a month and she was a big author, but a lot of people weren’t going to buy it until next year when it was on sale. The women bit her lip and the dad replied.
“We needed the money. The kids start school again in a few months and we can’t afford to buy new supplies. The book was going to bomb. We needed to get people talking.”
“So you faked a dead man and missing finger? That is sick! You are sick evil people! Where did that finger even come from?”
“It was fake and Robert is wearing a glove.” As the dad walked over to take off “Robert’s” glove I got up and ran. I did not want to be in there with those people anymore. I can’t believe they would do something like that! However, before I could blow this all off, I had to know what the man in the hoodie was doing.
Before I knew it I was home and watching the tape. I guess time flew by when I was trying to not think of what just happened. I popped in the tape and fast forwarded. That easily I got his liscence plate. I also saw him holding something. It was a camera. One of those fancy ones. Everything clicked. He was a paparazzi. I flipped to television and on the news I saw the story of the author and a finger dropped by her bird.
I knew the media was going to find out it was fake once the cops did testing. I figured anything I would say would be pointless. She already got the attention she wanted. Her book was going to sell, and there was no way in hell I was going to buy it.

“I love you.” I said to him as they wheeled him out of the hospital room.

“I love you too. So much.”

I was really distraught about this whole situation. We were only in high school and I was going to die.  See, I have had kidney problems since I was 5 or 6, and been on the wait list for a new one. Well now, 10 years later, I desperately needed one. When I told my boyfriend of 3 years I was going to die, he was shocked and wanted to do anything he could do.  After two weeks he is in the hospital with me, and currently going in for a kidney check. They have to make sure everything is working right and prepare for the transplant.

According to the doctor, my kidney type was rare and it was going to be difficult to find a donor that matched me. I guess my boyfriend and I were a perfect match. Haha. Ah,it’s good to laugh. I was so off ease with this whole thing. Humans are born with an extra kidney, but it is still major surgery and there can be so many complications. I could die either way, but now someone I deeply care about could too. Being wheeled into the operating room I kind of realized how big a deal this is. He was already put under and I wished I could wake him up. I wanted to ask him for the 80th time today, if he was ok with this, and if he was sure. I knew I was wasn’t.

That was my last thought before the surgery. That I wasn’t ok with this and I didn’t want it to happen. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want him to die either. My first thought upon waking up, was “Is he ok?” I realized I spoke that thought, because I heard his smooth voice respond.

“Haha, yes you are alive and doing well, not that you seem to care.”

I opened my eyes with a sigh of relief, to see him laying in a hospital bed right next to me. His face was glowing. The green in his eyes was the most beautiful color in the room, no, in the world. He was smiling hugely and reached his hand out. I could barely grab it but when I did, I thought I would never let go. We were both perfectly fine, and together. I couldn’t ask for more.

He fell asleep quickly and I found out he had been awake for 6 hours waiting to make sure I was ok. Still holding on to his hand I sighed again. I couldn’t believe we actually went through this. I am one of the luckiest girls in the world.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEEEEP!

I woke up again and looked around to investigate the piercing beep noise and noticed a crowd of 4 or 5 nurses around my boyfriend’s bed. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” I sat up and realized no one was listening to me. They were all yelling things and I couldn’t see him at all.

“Failure…didn’t work”

“Maybe another…?”

“No….unstable.”

“Match…. way to do it.”

Those are the only words I heard and I swear my heart stopped beating. My eyes erupted with fluid and I started practically yelling. “What is wrong?!?!”

My mom came running in because she heard me and immediately started explaining all she knew. “The transplant wasn’t successful. His other kidney isn’t responding. They don’t know what to do. He may die.”

The room nearly froze. It seemed like everything was going in slow motion. I could no longer hear what anyone was saying. I was dizzy and my eyelids were attempting to close. I swung my leg out of the bed, and though I know my mom and new kidney were protesting, I couldn’t hear them. Only one thing mattered now.

I stumbled over to his bed. I could barely walk yet I pushed my way through the nurses. I could start to hear a bit of yelling, but everything was still fairly mute. His eyes were closed and as I reached to touch his face, my mother grabbed my hand to get my attention. I shrugged her off and touched him with my other hand. He opened his eyes and gave me the best smile he could.

“You will live.” He told me.

“No, you will.” I responded. At this point I was practically dragged to my bed and didn’t fight back because my side was in immense pain.

I watched as his lips mouthed, “No.” He started crying and repeating himself over and over “No. No. No”

I asked my mom to put me in a wheelchair and go for a walk. I didn’t think she would understand, but I had to talk to her. By the time I was leaving, only one nurse remained at his bed where he was sleeping restlessly. “How long?” I asked, with an unsteady voice.

“8 or 9 hours.”

My mom continued to push me away from him as I held back a wave of tears. He was such a good guy. At 15 years old he doesn’t deserve to die. Especially when the worst thing he had done was forget to return a library book. I wanted to roll up in a ball and close my eyes. Just scream! Why couldn’t I scream? All of a sudden I got so mad. This isn’t how life is supposed to be. It is supposed to be nice, and not easy, but livable. I won’t live! He won’t live! This isn’t fair. I will ever be able to get married, or have kids. Hell, I won’t be able to finish high school!

This will be the biggest decision of my life. But I’m ready to make it. He deserves the kidney. He deserves to live. I’m writing this in the operating room. We are about to be put under. He is crying and says he doesn’t want to do it, but I know he doesn’t want to die either. As they put the mask on him and I I say “I love you and always will. When you wake up, you will be sad that I’m gone, but remember that my last memory, is love for you. Move on and ind new people, get married, have kids, be happy, but please remember how much I love you.” My words faded but I knew he heard. And I know he will always remember.