Thankfully, the walk isn't really long, and the hand-holding doesn't last as long as I thought. However, if I'd let go of Luke's hand somewhere during the walk, Blake would make a point to inform Clarity, and within seconds, two pairs of suspicious eyes would land on us, scanning us up and down.

Of course, that would mean more awkward explanations, but most of the time they let it slide when Luke immediately moved towards me, as if he had been dragged by an invisible force.

The Force, everyone.

But when they did want answers, Luke was always the one who covered it up, saying I was still a little upset at him for the fight, but then proceeded to sling his arm around my shoulder and rub it with the pad of his thumb before holding my hand again.

I think there's a fire burning on my shoulder now, because Luke's discomfort was radiating off him with every touch.

"Here we are," Clarity announces, and I drop Luke's hand immediately, biting my lip and ducking my head a little, feeling embarrassed. PDA, which includes hand-holding, in the middle of the street isn't my thing.

According to Clarity, their family are huge fans of Star Wars, and that's why Luke ended up as...well, Luke.

And they also didn't happen to have 'Skywalker' as their last name.

Coincidental, much?

Not to me. Judging from the enthusiasm and love for Star Wars, I can bet ten fine bucks that they changed their last name to Skywalker on purpose. Coincidences are just too overrated.

"You're on." Luke smirks, as if he just won the bet with myself.

I really need to keep my thoughts to myself, I mentally chide myself.

"Yeah... You totally should." Luke grins.

Oh stars. Could I snap my mouth shut for a minute? It could get me into trouble!

"No shit, Sherlock," he says before staring deep into my eyes.

No sooner, we're having an ultimate stare-off. Who will win? The absolute jerk or the prettiest woman this earth has ever seen?

No, scrap "this earth". Including this solar system. And others. And other galaxies far far away. And pretty much the whole universe loves and supports me. So he's definitely going down.

I'm pretty sure by now, ten minutes has passed—or even an hour—but none of us is giving way. He's giving me that cold hard glare of him. And me? I'm give him my signature glare. But oh stars. He's the most determined player I've met. Usually within five seconds, I would have won. Now? I'm on the verge of extinction.

Say bye to the last of the—awesomesauce—Irabelles. They cannot face defeat and will never stop till they give up. If you are interested, please call this number: (non-existent) to register to be an Irabelle.

Out of the blue, Luke blinks. And blinks again. And again. Then he stands up straighter, bumps harshly into me, and walks away coolly—as if he didn't just ruin the function of my body. That jerk!

I turn around, just to see him walking in... the wrong direction? I blink in confusion. He was walking away from his own house that he lived in since he was born.

I clear my throat, "Umm... I think you should turn around... You're going the wrong way..."

"I knew that." It comes out more weak than I expected.

It wasn't moments before his shoulder collided with mine again. Knocking the wind out of me, I fall on the ground with a resounding thud. Seriously, what was his problem? I didn't knock down his nonexistent cat or anything—if I even knew how to drive.

Talk about turbulence. Luke Skywalker would put an earthquake to shame, with his switching moods. Way to be a jerk.

Huffing, I pick myself up and brush away traces of dirt from my body. This guy doesn't know who he's dealing with. If he wants to play it this way, so can two.

Before, I was too preoccupied for my indescribable hatred towards Luke, now I take a long satisfying glance at The Skywalker's house.

It sits on a street that has a few bright and cheerful houses, and some that look really drab and sad. Theirs is something in between, with a roof that looks awfully depressing and bright blue walls.

Great, my favourite colour of all time

*~*

During dinner, the awkward silence is cringe-worthy that I wince, brain searching for ideas to get away from here. Anywhere but here. But because Luke Skywalker has ruined all my body's functions with his stone eyes, my brain feels like it's been fried — the same feeling I get while doing Calculus. So I just chew on my food instead.

"So..." Amy — Luke's mother — coughs, "How did you guys meet?"

"I..." I stammer as I swallow, suddenly recalling my manners. I send a glance over to Luke, who has been forced into sitting next to me, my eyes literally begging for help. His eyes meet mine, and he smirks.

"You don't have to be shy about it, sweetheart, go ahead," Luke sends a forkful of chicken into his mouth, conveniently making an excuse to not tell the "story".

I look at Luke's mother from across the table.

"I...don't know where to start," I say.

"Well, you could start with how you met! Isn't that a great idea?" Blake grins at me, and he and Luke do a fist-bump.

Stupid boys.

"I think it was at cheerleading practice, was it?" I peer at Luke from the corner of my eye. He nods, encouraging me to go on.

So let's just say that, thank goodness, my lying skills kicked in and I managed to get myself out of this situation, weaving a seamless tale of a cliché romance. Luke isn't on the football team, nor is he a star quarterback, but apparently he works with the school yearbook, and so that was a great reason for him to be present at cheerleading practice.

Gotta keep that school spirit burning.

Somewhere in the midst of dinner, Clarity tells us about her unforgettable play date with Blake.

"So I showed him the Yoda Bobblehead we got last year, and you know what Blake said? He said that it was so tiny!" Clarity laughs like it's the funniest joke in the world.

Well then.

Luke coughs vehemently. "That's what she said," he says between coughs.

I clear my throat, my face burning. Luke doesn't let my reaction go unnoticed, and sends me a hundred-watt smile.

When Amy looks over at him, he reassures her that he's fine, it was just the joke that make him choke.

The pun.

*~*

Finally, Blake leaves, well, not before promising to see Clarity tomorrow at my house.

Joy. My room looks like a tornado went through it, which isn't a complete lie — Lindsay has a tendency to rip my room apart whenever she comes over — but my parents will probably use the arrival of Clarity as an excuse to get me to clean my room.

We walk back in silence, streetlights illuminating our path. Blake's footsteps are like the rain, heavy and noisy but somehow a comforting sound, something that reminds me of times when he was just a toddler. I think I'd make the perfect ninja, years of cheerleading making my footsteps barely audible.

It's under this orange glow of the streetlights that I realise, that no matter what happens, where we are, and why we've done certain things, Blake and I are still siblings, and although the days of scribbling on the driveway with chalk and bear hugs are long gone, there are just some certain things that don't change.

So against my better judgement, I reach out my hand and take Blake's hand in mine. His hand is soft and warm, and I take a deep breath. I've missed him.

He narrows his eyes at me. "What's wrong with you?"

He skips over to my other side, and before I can do anything, he shrieks, his voice higher and hoarser than I have ever heard it.

I see the headlights. I feel the fear. I feel my limbs moving, my arms stretching out to grab my little brother.

I will let nothing happen to him. Nothing.

And without thinking, I do the only logical thing that I can think of.

I dive in front of my brother, knocking him roughly back, and then everything's a mixture of mind-blowing pain, torture, screams and shouts.

If I had to die, why this way, in agony?

That's my last thought before everything closes in on me, like a toppling house.

*~*

"Tell us one deep thing," Lindsay leans forward, Carrie and Zelda at her side.

"Just one? My mind's so deep that the Pacific has nothing on it," I say, and Lindsay shoves my shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, we get it." Carrie rolls her eyes.

I didn't want to come to this party, and I'm doing everything I can to get out of here. Even if it means being a brat.

"I wish I could know when my last day is, you know," I say quietly, drawing circles on the floor.

"That'd be horrible," Zelda scrunches up her nose, "I want to live carefree, without the weight of my death date hanging above my head."

"Why?" Carrie ignores Zelda and leans in.

I look up in their eyes, and suddenly I know what I want to do. I want to make a Bucket List. I want to change the world. I want to become someone better, someone who doesn't fall under a stereotype.

I want to be me.

"So that I can complete every last wish I have, and leave with no regrets, even if that means having the stress of it, even if that makes me human, for only doing things I want to at the very end."

*~*

Darkness is all I see. Numbness is all I feel. Nothing is all I hear. The darkness is blinding, the numbness intense pain, the silence completely deafening.

And then the memories come flooding back, like someone lighted fireworks and now they're exploding before me.

I was hit by a truck.

Oh sparks, am I dead?

I'm too young to be dead. I haven't experienced my first kiss yet. I haven't completed my Bucket List yet.

I haven't told my parents I love them for eight years.

There are too many things I need to do. I can't die!

"She's awake," someone mutters.

Well, if I open my eyes and realise I am dead, there better be Nutella.

And with that thought, blinding light hits me straight in the eye, and suddenly six faces are crammed into the tight space of the ceiling.

I recognize Blake first, and my words come out in a flurry. "Oh sparks, are you okay? Are you hurt? Where am I? Have you been treated yet? Where's—" My voice is rough and hoarse and scratchy, and I break out in a fit of coughs right then, pain blasting through my side.

"Shh, don't talk," Luke places a finger on my lips, cutting me off. "Water?"

I almost talk again, but realise it's not a question. Clarity carries a cup of water towards me, staring at it like it's her lifeline. That's when I realise I'm in a hospital.

Where else would you be, Irabelle?

You can't blame me, I've just lived through a frickin' accident.

"Here, Irabelle," she looks up at me, and her eyes are bloodshot.

Oh sparks, is she crying because of me?

I reach over to hug her, but my mom pushes me down back on the bed, before silently pushing some control on the side of the hospital bed. My back is lifted up at a steeper angle, and I sit upright.

Gulping the water down quickly, I look over at the six worried faces around me. It's deathly silent in here, and it's starting to make me feel awkward.

"Hi," I manage to choke out, and Blake immediately hops onto the bed and wraps his arms around my neck, burying his head in my shoulder. I rub his back gently.

And then he starts crying.

He must've been scared out of his wits, having to experience a near-death, and watching his sister bleed profusely.

"Hey, I'm okay," I pat his back, but don't ask him to move.

"How do you feel?" My father asks, his voice scratchy.

"Err...alive?" I reply lamely, still cradling the now-hiccuping Blake in my arms.

"This isn't funny, Irabelle."

"I'll get the doctor," Amy says, before walking out of the door.

"I didn't say it was, Dad," I say.

He stares straight at me. "You didn't tell us you have a boyfriend."

Oh shoot.

"I'm sorry, Mister Beaniestein. It was my suggestion. I didn't want too much stress on Irabelle, what with her cheerleading practice and popularity." Luke exchanges a glance with me.

My mother raises her eyebrow. "So...you're dating?"

"Yes, ma'am, we are." Luke removes my hand from Blake's back and holds it.

"And you know about her Bucket List?"

Luke looks questioningly at me.

"He doesn't, Mom," I quickly cut in, "I made it without him knowing."

I've realised Luke and my conversations with our parents are all team efforts. When a loophole comes, one of us who actually knows what's going on speaks up.

"Well, Luke, since you apparently have the biggest influence on her, like all teenagers are, maybe you could talk her out of completing the stupid list."

The doctor enters at this moment, and everyone leaves abruptly, Luke talking to my mother. After running a few checkups on me, she announces that I should be able to go home after a few days, but no strenuous exercise is allowed for some time.

Once the doctor leaves, Lindsay breaks through the door, her freckles even more prominent under the fluorescent lights of the hospital.

"Oh my goodness are you okay I heard about you and got here as fast as I can and I'm so worried about you does anything hurt right now I'm just blabbering but never mind that are you breathing I mean of course you are but—"

"I'm fine, Lind," I smile. "And they put me on some painkillers or something, so it doesn't hurt. Thanks for coming over."

"Okay, good," she says. Walking over to the seat next to my bed, she plops down.

"So now for the serious stuff." Lindsay leans forward, wiggling her eyebrows. She lowers her voice to a stage whisper and asks dramatically, "what's Luke Skywalker doing outside?"

I groan. "It's a long story."

"It's just as long as what I need to tell Coach to save your butt from the finals." She presses her mouth into a thin line. "He's not going to be happy about it."

Right. The cheerleading finals.

"I don't know where to start," I say.

"Lame excuse, Irabelle." Lindsay rolls her eyes. "Let's see where you should start. How about..." she gasps, "the beginning? How does that sound?"

"That's a marvelous idea," I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

"Thank you for boosting my ego," Lindsay says. She places a hand on her chest and grins widely.

"Oh, and before you start." Lindsay's face falls and she leans forward. "Blake's been crying for you non-stop. They had to bring him over to the psychology centre because he keeps seeing images of the accident. They think he might have PTSD, but we have to wait and see."

My heart gets lodged in my throat, and for a couple seconds I don't think I can breathe. Blake's in the psychology centre because of me. Because I held his hand. If I didn't hold his hand, we would've stayed together and we could've avoided the whole thing.

I'm being irrational. No matter what I would've done back then, it wouldn't work. The accident would still happen. We would still be here right now.

But still, underneath it all, I couldn't help but blame myself.

"Earth to Irabelle," Lindsay snaps her fingers in front of my eyes, jolting me back to reality.

"You okay?" She asks. Her brows raise and concern flashes in her eyes.

"Yeah." I force a smile. I'll be alright for now...I hope. At least Blake is safe.

"Is Clarity with Blake?" I ask, suddenly thinking of her.

"Who's Clarity?" Lindsay twists her mouth into a frown.

"Uh...Luke's sister," I reply, "about Blake's age."

"Oh, the girl with the brown hair? Yeah, she refused to let go of his hand." Lindsay crinkles up her nose. "Kids."

I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe it's Clarity's drawing personality, but I trust her completely with my brother.

"Oh, and I've come up with an amazing acronym to describe the current situation — C. R. A. S. H. — wanna guess?" Lindsay says. Upon seeing my blank face, she wiggles her eyebrows.

"Clumsy Rabelle Again Smashes Herself." She grins proudly.

"That's wrong English," I point out.

"Meh, who cares? It's perfect!" Lindsay says.

I groan.

The door clicks open, and standing right there in the doorway with his tousled dark hair is none other than Luke Skywalker. Lindsay does this dramatic gasp, and starts squealing and grabbing my hand tightly. Letting out a sigh, I roll my eyes.

"Hey," he says. He runs a hand down his face tiredly before messing up his hair by skimming the strands with his fingers.

"Hi!" Lindsay replies for me. Her voice is cranked up a few octaves, resembling a chipmunk.

He looks at Lindsay like she's a rabid dog, before sliding his gaze to me, and back to Lindsay.

"My best friend," I explain, "Lindsay Carter."

Lindsay waves enthusiastically.

He gives a curt nod before turning to me. "Better?"

"If I wasn't, would I still be here?" I say.

"You would, but in a coma or worse," Luke replies.

Lindsay does her weird eyebrow dance again and mouths 'he's concerned'. I groan, and give her a little shove.

"What?" Luke asks. He looks over at me suspiciously.

"Nothing," I reply quickly.

He sighs. "Anyway, Blake—"

"I know."

"Good."

An awkward silence settles among us, thick and smothering. Lindsay's mouth quirks into a smirk as she crosses her arms and stares at us.

"Didn't your mom tell you it was rude to stare?" I say on impulse. The moment the comment leaves my mouth, I feel stupid.

"Talking about moms," Luke — thank goodness — picks up from where I left off, "your mom told me, again, to convince you that your whatsitcalled is a bad idea."

"Ooh," Lindsay says, "you know about her Bucket List?"

Luke shrugs. "It sounds stupid."

Lindsay's gaze widens and she looks at me straight in the eye. "Does he actually know what it's for?" She stage-whispers.

"What?" Luke asks the same time I say "No."

"Well, with our fella over here being blonde—"

"Shut up, Lindsay," I hiss.

"She's been labelled too many times to be normal. Thus, she's pissed and wants to prove that she's not like that," Lindsay continues, completely ignoring my previous statement.

"You know what? I've come up with the greatest plan on Earth! Why not you" — she points at Luke — "and you" — she jabs a finger at me — "complete the Bucket List together!"

"No!" We both yell.

"Heck, you sound like Clarity," Luke adds a second later, crinkling his nose.

Lindsay laughs. "You don't have a choice, actually. Irabelle, based on what I know about her, isn't going to give up her List, and you've gotten yourself in this mess. Trust me, Missus Beaniestein isn't going to let you off that easily," Lindsay says.

We both shudder. The previous time Lindsay came over for dinner, it ended in flames because of the number one troublemaker — Blake. He'd suddenly decided that he hated vegetables on that day, and the whole dinner was pretty much ruined while my mom tried to force salad down his throat.

"What's she going to do? Blackmail me? Shoot me?" Luke snorts.

"Very likely," Lindsay says, "and let me tell you, that woman is determined."

The door opens at that moment, and we all jump. Footsteps get louder, and I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

"Hi, Beanie!" Clarity's perky voice reaches my ears.

My eyes fly open.

Lindsay and Luke break out into uncontrollable laughter as I stare into the eyes of Luke's younger sister.

"What are you doing here? It's so late already and—"

"It's okay, I was worried about you," Clarity says. She smiles brightly, and the adorableness of the whole thing is too much to resist.

"So you're Clarity?" Lindsay says. Clarity turns to her.

"Yeah," she replies.

Within seconds, Clarity and Lindsay have declared themselves as unicorn-saving heroes, and partners in crime.

"Why are you calling me Beanie, though?" I ask Clarity, who's finally agreed to sit down.

"Because it's part of your last name and it sounds cute," she says.

"It does," Lindsay says with a smirk.

"How's Blake?" Luke asks, and Clarity tilts her head at him.

"They've signed him up for therapy, and he has been brought home," she says. Looking down, she fiddles with her fingers. "Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Of course he will," Luke says, ever the white liar.

Clarity breaks out into a smile.

"It's getting late, we have to go," Luke says and sends me a half smile. He takes Clarity's hand, but she jerks out of his grip, running over to me to hug me.

"Bye bye, Beanie. Sweet dreams!" She gives my forehead a wet kiss, before she leaves.

My heart warms at her sweetness, and I wave to her as she leaves the room, chatting away happily with Luke.

It's not long before Lindsay has to excuse herself, too, and as she leaves she promises to bring my Bucket List along tomorrow.

I don't tell her she forgot to find out what exactly happened.

After she leaves, I accidentally drop my hand over the side of the bed. It hits a button, and before I know it my back is jerked up, and I let out a yelp, my heart pounding.

Karma's such a pain.