Chapter 20: The Most Amazing Fictional Character To Exist 

“Sydney, what’re you still doing up so late?” Mikey wonders a few nights later, randomly walking into my bedroom.

“Can’t sleep, I guess,” I murmur with a careless shrug as I pick up the TV remote and flick through the channels.

“Well, why not?” He simple asks, closing the door quietly behind him and crossing the room over to the bed. “Scoot over,” Mikey urges, prodding my shoulder lightly with his fingers a few times. With an inaudible sigh, I reposition myself to the middle of the large beg, making room for Mikey. He plops down there on the side of the bed, wrapping an arm around me casually “Did you have a bad dream or something?” He questions, glancing at me. 

“No, I’m just not tired,” I mumble, shaking my head and keeping my eyes trained on the movie that I’m not now watching. It’s something called 50 First Dates and it’s in English since Francesca’s got English channels on her TV—  kind of like we have Spanish-speaking channels with our cable back at home. I don’t know what this movie is about so far, but it has Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore and the two of them are like, comedic geniuses, so I may as well watch it. 

Bradley, who is lying beside me in the bed, fast asleep, stirs a little bit, rolling over from on his stomach and onto his side. He sleepily raises his head from the pillow that he’s clutching tightly and drops it on my lap. His head, I mean, not the pillow. I absentmindedly pick up my hand and start running my fingers through his chocolaty brown hair. I hadn’t realized it’d grown so much since we first got to Italy, but I guess it has. He should really get it cut sometime soon because it’s starting to look all unruly and unkempt and such. He’s still gorgeous though, of course.

Bradley has been hoarding himself up in my room with me for the past two days since he literally dragged me out of Walker’s hospital bed and made me come back to Francesca’s house. I mean, I guess it made since because I’d been at the hospital for like, four days straight with Walker without coming back here.

Anyway, he’s been trying to get me to like, interact with other people that aren’t Walker or his family or his doctors, which is so stupid and dumb to me. And I’m proud to say that I’ve been extremely vocal to him about it, how I don’t think that it’s fair of him to expect me to want to go to the beach or go shopping or do anything really, considering the fact that our best friend in the world is in the hospital fighting for his life. I seem to be the only one deathly afraid of that though.

Granted, I am the only one that knows that Walker’s probably gonna be…gone in the next few months because I didn’t tell anyone after I heard the Dr. Acardi and Dr. Maria discussing it. And if it isn’t obvious, he’s still there. Walker, I mean, and by the looks of it—  he’s not getting out anytime soon. At least, not to get to come home to Francesca’s house. If he gets out, it’ll be so he can go to the airport and go back to Michigan where Dr. Maria’s team will do their best to save his life.

“Well, are you feeling okay?” He wonders, raising his eyebrows with a concerned look etched onto his features.

“I feel fine, Michael,” I groan, throwing my head back and yelping in pain when it hits the headboard and I immediately get a headache.

“That was God punishing you for calling me Michael,” Mikey informs me matter-of-factly with a boyish grin.

“Shut up, Mikey,” I demand but let a small smile come over my face anyway. “What do you want?” I query.

“Just wanted to see how you’re holding up,” He explains.

“Terribly, thanks,” I murmur, dropping my head onto his shoulder.

“I know,” Mikey sighs, putting his chin on top of my head. “It’s hitting us all pretty hard, you know,” He adds.

“Yeah, I know,” I confirm with another sigh. “You guys are a lot better at pretending you don’t care though.”

“We’re not pretending we don’t care,” Mikey assures me. “We do care, I mean, Walker’s our friend too. But you have to look on the bright side, Syd— ”

“What bright side?” I deadpan, raising my eyebrows at him in question.

“His parents aren’t planning a funeral, Walker’s still conscious and in his right mind and at least the cancer was caught at an early-ish stage. That makes curing him a way more realistic goal, them finding the cancer already.”

“I guess so,” I reply with a nod.

“You’re kind of a Debbie downer,” Mikey says matter-of-factly.

“Well, I’m just worried about him,” I complain. “Like, what is he doing right now? Is he having a hard time breathing? Are they feeding him enough oxygen through his tubes? What if he has to go to the bathroom? Is he even strong enough to stand on his own? What about his fever? Is it back up yet? Is the chemo working? Are they feeding him well? What if they give him something with mushrooms in it? You know he’s allergic to mushrooms, Mikey!” I cry, starting to panic about Walker’s current situation. I really, really don’t like not being able to be there in the room with him. When I’m not there, I don’t know what’s going on and if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I like to know what’s going on at all times.

“I obviously don’t have all the answers to your questions,” Mikey sighs. “I wish I did, but I don’t. But, hey, you know they moved him away from ICU last night and he’s got a residential room now and that’s good, right?”

“No, it’s not good, that means he’s going to be staying there a while,” I remind Mikey.

“Yeah, but it’s damn sure better than ICU—  intensive care unit. Being in there basically means that you’re too sick or whatever to be able to be without constant monitoring 24/7. Besides, his room is a lot bigger than his ICU room and he has a pull out bed in the couch and a big screen TV and everything,” He tells me.

“Well, I guess that’s better,” I admit, lightly pushing Bradley’s hair back with my fingers just so that I have something to do with them. “How’s his family? Have you spoken to them lately?” I question, not having talked to Walker’s brother or sister or parents since that day before I got into the elevator a couple of days prior to today.

“They’re not so good—  I mean, his parents are trying to keep it together but every time I see Shannon, she’s crying and every time I see Trevor, he’s about as emotionless as a brick,” He informs me. “Hey, can I ask you something? Something completely unrelated to Walker?”

“Sure, I guess,” I nod, turning the TV down so that now it’s only background noise.

“Are you, um, you know, okay?”

“Obviously not, Mikey,” I laugh but the laugh is dry and humorless.

“No, I mean, I know that, but…erm, mentally, you’re, uh, you’re good, aren’t you?” He clarifies.

“I’m not crazy, if that’s what you’re asking,” I say quietly, looking up at him with a confused look.

“I know you’re not crazy but this summer has been absolutely ridiculous for you. You know, with you and Bradley breaking up and then you and Drew temporarily hated each other and now there’s this stuff with Walker and you don’t seem to be handling it very well at all—  do you want to see someone?”

“Mikey, stop beating around the bush—  I don’t need to see a physiatrist and I damn sure don’t want to,” I snap.

“Well, I know you don’t want to, but it might help, don’t you think?” Mikey asks me in a soft and concerned voice.

“No, I don’t think that at all and it’d be a waste of money that I don’t have,” I shoot back.

“Okay, well, I just thought I’d pitch that idea to you,” Mikey appeases me, knowing I won’t give in.

“Thanks for caring Mikey, but really, it’s fine,” I tell him, giving him a small smile.

“Alright,” He sighs, leaning down and kissing my forehead. “Well, I should probably get back in there with Jaime before she wakes up and realizes that I’m gone and starts freaking out,” Mikey explains, getting out of the bed and pulling the cover over me. “Unless you want me to stay until you fall asleep? Because I don’t mind that.” He offers.

“No,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Go be with your girlfriend, I’m fine, I’m good, I promise,” I say to Mikey.

“Alright then,” Mikey nods but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Love you,” He says, pulling the door open.

“Love you back,” I call after him softly, sighing again and turning the TV up again just a little bit. Mikey leaves out of the room and closes the door behind him quietly. I look at the time on the cable box and see that it’s a little after 2 in the morning, which explains why the house is so quiet—  everyone’s asleep.

I glance over at my iPhone which is idly resting on the bedside table and make a random decision that I know I’ll catch hell from via my boyfriend in a couple of hours. I gently slip Bradley’s head back onto a pillow and off of my lap then get up out of the bed, picking my phone up on the way and walk out of the room, into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, I close the door and lock it, leaning against the door. I flip the light switch on and then unlock my phone, going to the contact. I scroll through the plethora of useless numbers—  I really don’t call anyone ever except the guys, Elena, Jaime and my parents—  until I get to the ‘O’s. When I get to the name that I’m looking for, I press down on it and then bring my phone up to my ear, waiting while it rings.

“Ciao bella,” Orlando greets in a smooth voice as if I didn’t just wake him up out of his sleep—  which I guess is possible. I mean, it’s not like I know the guy’s sleeping schedule or anything and it is summer so for all I know, maybe he does stay up until the ungodly hours of the morning.

“Hey Orlando,” I greet, clearing my throat. “Um, what are you doing right now at this very second?” I wonder.

“Erm, I’m just lying in my bed, watching some action movie,” He informs me.

“Okay, well, I think you should come and get me and we should go somewhere,” I tell him bluntly.

“Okay,” Orlando laughs and I hear what sounds like him sitting up in his bed. “Where do you want to go?” He asks.

“I dunno,” I sigh loudly. “I just want to go somewhere and have fun—  I’m like, ridiculously depressed,” I complain.

“What, did you and your boyfriend break up again?” He asks. “Wait, I thought you were going back to America?”

“No, my boyfriend and I didn’t break up again,” I assure him. “And yeah, I was but then I didn’t,” I tell him shortly.

“Alright, well, actually, I think I know of a party that’s going on right now, if you want to go?” Orlando says.

“I dunno, I mean, the last time that I went to a party, I got really drunk and threw a glass at Drew. On his birthday, no less,” I murmur, recalling the first few days after we arrived in Italy and I still hated Drew and Bradley and I were still broken up. We went to that one club for his birthday and I wound up practically kissing Orlando, throwing a glass full of liquor in Drew’s face, throwing up and lying on a public floor bathroom. God, I was so pathetic when I didn’t have Bradley. Obviously that was a sign from up above that Bradley and I are like, meant to be together. At least, that’s the kind of sign that I’m choosing to take it as.

“Yeah but Drew’s not going to be there and I won’t let you get drunk,” Orlando reasons. “And did you say you’re depressed? Why? What’s wrong?” He asks and that’s when I remember that I haven’t spoken to him since like, almost a month ago when I texted him that morning that I went to the airport. And I haven’t actually seen him in a little over a month, now that I think about it.

“It’s just a thing with my friend,” I vaguely tell him, referring to Walker’s condition. “I’ll tell you about it later, I guess. Do you think it’ll be okay if I just like, wear my pajamas? I don’t feel like getting dressed up and I don’t think Bradley would be happy if I wore like, a skin-tight dress or something to go out with you,” I tell Orlando.

“Yeah, Sydney, I think you’ll be fine if you wear your pajamas—  you know, assuming you wear sexy pajamas and not like, footie pajamas with characters from shows you watched in your childhood. And yeah, what about that? Are you even telling him that you’re coming out with me? Because I don’t want him to try to kick my ass again.”

“Orlando, that was two months ago and Bradley was hurting at the time. He’s not really the jealous type,” I say.

“Are you sure?” He asks testily.

“Are you afraid of my boyfriend?” I wonder with an incredulous giggle. I mean, I guess I could understand if he was scared of Bradley because when he’s mad, he’s really scary. And when he’s mad and yelling, he’s even scarier. Not really towards me because we never really fight and even when we do, he strains himself so that he doesn’t yell at me. He usually just talks to me in a really condescending I-love-you-but-you’re-pissing-me-off voice.

“Yeah, I’m afraid of your boyfriend—  he punched me in the face!” Orlando explains as if I don’t remember it.

“You are ridiculous—  Bradley is just a big teddy bear,” I promise him. “And he’s not going to hit you again unless he thinks you’re trying to like, hit on me or hurt me or something like that. Besides, he’s asleep and I don’t want to wake him up out of his sleep just so that he can take me somewhere. I’ll just tell him about it later this morning after he gets up and whatnot,” I inform Orlando. “Please,” I desperately say. I know I could just leave and find a club to get into, but I’m not stupid. I’m an eighteen year old girl living in a country where the main language is completely and totally foreign to me. I’m just not very good with different languages at all. I guess that’s why I never took a foreign language in high school. I mean, I did try it in middle school and it just didn’t work at all for me. “I gotta get out of this house and you’re the only one who’ll get me out without telling the other guys,” I add.

I mean, Bradley wouldn’t be up for getting up and going somewhere, I know that. Drew neither, probably and being alone with him is still a little bit weird. Tanner is with Elena and I don’t want to interrupt them and the same goes for Mikey and Jaime. I wonder what Walker is doing. I bet he’s sleeping. He does that a lot now that he’s in the hospital—  the whole not being able to catch his breath thing really tires him out because he’s trying to keep up with his breathing, which I would imagine is hard to do. That and eats. That’s basically all he ever does. I’ve briefly talked to him over the phone a few times since my friends forced me to leave the hospital, but I haven’t seen him in two full days and I really want to see him. If I thought that the hospital would let me in this time of morning, I’d go and see him but I’m pretty positive that they won’t.

“Okay,” Orlando reluctantly agrees. “If you’re sure he won’t get mad,” He adds and that’s when I stop to think about it. Like I said, Bradley’s not really the jealous or possessive type when it comes to me but if he happened to wake up while I was gone, I don’t think he’d be too happy to know that I was with Orlando. I mean, if the situation were reversed, I’d damn sure be upset with him if he were out with a girl or something. Granted, I admit it, I am the jealous type. Maybe I should just ask him if he’s okay with it. It’s not like I need his permission or anything but I think I should just ask him anyway.

“I’m sure,” I confirm with a solemn nod, even though he can’t see me. “Well, maybe we should just go somewhere like a coffee shop or something like that—  I don’t Bradley to get angry with me,” I sheepishly say.

“Alright then,” Orlando laughs. “Well, I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then…then,” I say awkwardly, which makes him laugh before I hang up. I place my phone on the granite bathroom counter and sigh loudly before pulling my messy hair into a messy bun at the top of my head and grabbing my toothbrush and the toothpaste, quickly brushing my teeth. After I’m done, I wash my face and decide that I’ll go void of any makeup because it’s not like I’m trying to impress Orlando or anything, he’s just my friend and I like talking to him and I haven’t seen him in a while.

Leaving the bathroom, I quietly tip-toe back to my room and examine what I’m wearing, trying to decide whether or not I should put something on over my clothes. The shorts are really short but they’re really cute and baby blue with dark blue polka dots and the shirt is just a plain white V-neck. Because I do care about what Bradley thinks of me and the last thing I want is for him to get mad at me, I pull on a pair of sweatpants that I’ll probably die in since they’re so like, warm. I also slip on a pair of Sperry’s and walk over to Bradley, shaking his shoulder lightly.

“Bradley, wake up!” I whisper shout, shaking him a little bit.

“It’s too early to wake up,” He complains, shaking his head at me.

“Well, you can hear me, can’t you?” I ask, which is stupid because he obviously can.

“Yes, I can hear you and I’m going back to sleep and I think you should to,” Bradley replies, his eyes still closed.

“I’m not sleepy,” I complain. “Anyway, I’m going out for a little while, I just wanted to tell you that so you wouldn’t freak out if you woke up and I wasn’t right there,” I explain.

“Okay,” Bradley sleepily agrees. “Wait, where’re you going?”

“Just to coffee shop or something like that,” I assure him, pressing my lips to his. “I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

“Love you too,” My adorable boyfriend mutters before flipping over and pulling the covers over his head.

Just then, Orlando texts me, telling me that he’s outside now. I reply to him that I’m on my way and then walk out of my bedroom, closing the door behind me before starting to carefully creep down the stairs. Thankfully the stairs aren’t those dumb creaky kind, so I make it out without being notice and when I get outside, I close the door behind me but not all of the way just so that I can get back in later. Going over to Orlando’s car, I get in and sigh.

“Hey Orlando,” I greet him politely with a small, pulling my seatbelt on.

“Hey Sydney,” He chuckles, putting the car back into gear. “You look awful,” He notes.

“Gee, thanks man,” I sarcastically reply, pulling my legs up in the seat and wrapping my arms around my knees.

“I mean, you know, no offense,” Orlando quickly adds, glancing over me, probably thinking that he hurt my feelings or something but of course he didn’t. I know that I look awful and that’s because my sleep has decreased greatly as has my food intake and basically everything else that a normal human being needs to thrive. Not to mention how unkempt my hair is right now—  I just look terrible but I don’t really care because looking good isn’t really a top priority of mine right now.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I assure him with a small laugh. “Things aren’t really…good right now, I guess that’s why,” I say.

“What do you mean?” He questions in a curious voice. “And are you sure you don’t wanna go to a party?” He asks.

“My friend is having a really hard time right now because the universe and to quote Augustus Waters, ‘the world is nota wish-granting factory’, so yeah, everything kind of just sucks. And no, I don’t want to go to a party. I thought I’d feel better if I just got super wasted but then I realized that alcohol’s not the answer to this problem and it’s still gonna hurt whether or not I’m sober. Besides, when I’m sober I can remember what I say the next day,” I explain, resting my head on the headrest behind me.

“I have no clue who Augustus Waters is but I guess that’s true,” Orlando replies.

“He’s just the most amazing fictional character to exist,” I nonchalantly murmur. “Anyway, will you take me to the Alberti Ospedale?” I ask him hopefully.

“Um, yeah, sure,” He confirms, recklessly switching lanes without even checking his mirrors. “That’s where your friend is? The hospital?” Orlando asks me, leaning forward and turning the radio up a little bit so that it’s background noise.

“Yeah,” I admit with a nod. “I don’t know if you remember him—  Walker is his name. He’s like, really tall and…” I stop then suddenly, not really knowing how to describe Walker to someone else. I mean, yeah, he’s tall but the stuff that I know about his goes beyond his physical appearance so I really can’t explain him, I guess.

“Hmm, well, that narrows it down a lot,” Orlando sarcastically refutes with a chuckle.

“Oh shut up,” I laugh, punching him lightly his arm.

“You’re pretty abusive—  how does your boyfriend deal with you?”

“My boyfriend loves me and my abusive-ness, that’s how,” I shoot back with a giggle. And that’s another reason I called Orlando—  he makes me laugh. Granted, it doesn’t take much to make me laugh because I’m kind of a goofy person but Orlando always manages to make me laugh even if it’s at something stupid.

“Sure, okay,” He replies in appeasement, turning the radio up a few notches higher so that it’s no longer background music. It’s in Italian—  obviously—  but it has a melodic tune so I just quietly listen to it as we head towards the hospital.

We arrive at the hospital about twenty minutes later and as soon as Orlando has the car parked in a spot near the front, I open my door and get out. I’m tempted to just go off and leave him because he’s moving like a molasses covered turtle but I guess that would be kind rude.

“Choppy chop, Orlando!” I exclaim, impatiently clapping my hands together.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” He replies, getting out and walking over to me, hitting the button on the car remote.

“You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” I ask him curiously, realizing how much time he spends chauffeuring me.

“Not that I’m aware of—  why do you ask?” Orlando queries as we enter the hospital together.

“Just wondering,” I shrug, pushing my hands down into the pockets of my sweatpants before entering an elevator and pushing button ‘2’, which is the floor Walker has been moved to now that he’s out of the ICU.

My friends and his family are all really happy about that, the fact that Walker’s not in the Intensive Care Unit but I’m not. I’m not going to be happy until Walker walks out of this hospital and we can bring him back home so that he can spend the rest of the summer with us. I think we’re going back home on the fifteenth, which is only ten days from now, believe it or not.

The elevator lets us off on the second floor and Orlando and I get out, walking in the general direction of Walker’s room. He’s in 24152, I think it was or maybe it was 25142—  I’m not really good with numbers and I think I might be slightly dyslexic or something.

“So, what’s wrong with your friend?” Orlando asks me as we walk down the corridor together.

“He’s got, erm, cancer,” I tell him, getting this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach because I don’t like to say it.

“Oh, wow, that, um, that blows.” He awkwardly says with a weird cough.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I mutter. “We can go to a coffee shop after we leave, I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” He chirps.

“Here’s his room,” I say, gesturing to the room that I’m pretty sure that Walker’s in. Before pushing the door open, I take notice of the colorful balloon bouquet right in front of the door. Obviously I didn’t send him balloons because I mean, that’s dumb and what’s even dumber is that they all say ‘get well soon’. Who the hell says that to someone with cancer? You say that to someone with a cold or the flu or…I don’t know, chlamydia. But you don’t say it to someone who has cancer, that’s just dumb. I immediately get mad because obviously Walker isn’tgetting well and from what I heard Dr. Acardi and Dr. Maria saying, he damn sure isn’t going to get well anytime soon.

“Who sent those?” Orlando wonders and I shrug.

“I have no idea,” I murmur, reaching forward and ripping the little card attached to one of the plethora of balloon string and flip it open, straining my eyes so that I can read the tiny handwriting on it. “I know you think you hate me but you love me and I love you and I heard about the cancer and couldn’t just not come and see you.” I say, reading the words on the card aloud. “Oh my God,” I whine with a loud and heavy groan.

“What? What’s wrong?” Orlando asks, obviously confused about what’s happening right now.

“The Wicked Witch of the — ” I start, but I’m interrupted by Lucifer’s female counterpart, aka, Alison Baker.

“Sydney!” She exclaims. “I so wish we didn’t have to meet again under such awful conditions but it’s great to see you again,” The she-devil adds, coming over and hugging me tightly, which makes me involuntarily start gagging because she’s just so gross and I hate her and she’s the last thing that Walker needs and I just really, really cannot deal with her and her psychoticness right now. Just when you think things are bad, just remember, it could always be worst and in my case, things just got as bad as they possibly could with the blonde reincarnation of Hitler. 

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Author's Note: Yes, I know I missed last Monday and if you're not one of the people that even comment or like, whatever please don't come bitch to me about it (that happened this week and I was very upset about it). Anyways, yeah-- Alison has returned! And yeah, I don't have much to say, I don't think. Thoughts on this chapter? Predictions for the next? Notice the song (it's my fave) and picture (from my copy of TFiOS) and please, please don't forget to comment and vote! Also, I posted a new summary under my Upcoming Stories on my second account, halcyon_, so it'd be really cool if you guys read it and commented there to let me know what you thoughts and whatnot! I'll put the link below and in the external link and I'll see you guys next Monday! :3