In the past week, I have successfully spilled food on myself at least thrice, thanks to the most amazing buttons on the side of the bed that I cannot seem to operate. Somewhere in the middle of this week I've decided that I'll just stay in the position that my nurses have reset my bed to, and forget about trying to change my posture.

Thus, the food cannot be brought to my mouth properly, resulting in this horrid disaster.

Also, I've had quite a bit of quality time with my phone recently, and although I really want to ring Lindsay to bring my Bucket List because the pistachio has yet to deliver it, I guess that she's caught up with practice. Also, I feel awful about not telling her the whole story, but I guess telling her would be even worse.

I'm somewhere in the middle of Crossy Road when the door creaks open and I look up, therefore smashing my chicken avatar into a passing orange car.

Joy.

Luke steps through the doorway, and waves a little before dropping his hand. He crosses the room in a few strides. Handing me a piece of wrinkled paper I quickly identify as my Bucket List, he says, "Lindsay has a message for you."

I cringe. "It's not very pretty, is it?"

"Not at all." He laughs.

He slips his phone out of his pocket and — surprise, surprise — it has a Star Wars phone case. Unlocking his phone, he passes it to me.

The first thing I see is Lindsay's face pressed against the screen, her eyes wide open and her jaw touching the bottom of the screen. I press my index finger against the play button and brace myself for what is to come.

"Beanie you prick you got me in some deep trouble over here and I'm sure as heck not going to forgive you I bet you remember that you didn't tell me what happened and caused me to look like an idiot in front of Coach."

She shakes the phone hard, and I struggle to keep focused. She gasps for a moment, her hair messy, before continuing.

"Clarity and I have decided on a suitable punishment to inflict on you."

Luke tenses visibly, and I let my breath whoosh out between my teeth. Lindsay's mouth creeps into an evil grin.

"You, Irabelle Beaniestein, have to complete your Bucket List with Luke Skywalker by the end of graduation. Or else, I'll disown you as a best friend, and Clarity will break up with Blake and disown Luke as a brother. The end. Bye bye."

The screen goes dark.

"What?" Luke and I say in unison. I look at him.

"You were behind this, weren't you?" I demand.

"What? No!" Luke says. His defense doesn't work on me, though.

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "Yeah, sure. That's why my best friend recorded this video on your phone, and coincidentally invited you to help me with my Bucket List, which you didn't actually care about the last time I checked. What's your motive, Luke Skywalker?"

"I have none." He says.

I roll my eyes as he raises his hands in mock surrender.

"Go on, the rats in the sewer would love to have company," I say.

"Shut up," he drawls, "why on Earth would I want to be stuck with you, doing who-knows-what with that Bucket List?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out, dummy. Tell me, what do you want out of this?" I ask, not taking no for an answer.

Luke lets out an exasperated sigh.

My phone beeps with a message.

I groan. "I don't want to do this, Luke Skywalker, but Lindsay's not going to let me go."

"I can tell."

Luke runs a hand through his hair. "Well then, what's next on your List?"

I unfold the crinkled sheet of paper and run my finger down the bullet points until I find one that hasn't been ticked off yet.

"Ready to sneak into Walmart?" I ask. Luke's brows lift.

"Why on Earth would you want to do that?" He says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Never mind, I don't care."

"So...after I discharged tomorrow, we head straight to Walmart at midnight?"

"You make breaking into a departmental store that has tight-shut glass doors and security sound easy, Beaniestein," Luke says, "it's much more complicated than that."

"Okay then, smarty-pants, what's your plan?" I retort.

"Give me some time," he says, "I wasn't expecting to help a crazy girl with an impossible Bucket List. What's the point of it anyway?"

"Impossible doesn't exist, and it shouldn't be applied to blondes like me, especially. Everyone keeps thinking we have to be limited to the football field, to the manicure shop, to the awful grades, to the hot quarterbacks. Honestly, they know nothing, and if I complete this list, at least I'll have something to say, and proof to back it up."

"Pretty bent on proving people wrong, eh?"

"You bet," I say.

Luke smirks. "Then let's do this."

*~*

The moment solid ground is felt under my feet, I almost start dancing. Walking has never been such a privilege.

"WOMAN! YOUR BUTT CAN FINALLY FUNCTION!" Lindsay yells.

She tackles me to the floor and I let out a cry. Blake, who has suddenly grown thinner, runs up to me on the floor and engulfs me in a big bear hug.

"You're okay," he says.

"Uh-huh," I reply.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Blake, I'm alive. You can let go now, your grip reflects your weight," I say.

He lets go and I sit up.

"Guess what, Beanie? Even without you, we won," Lindsay says. She breaks out into a happy dance, before sending me a glare.

"I still don't forgive you for what you did, though, until you complete the entire list and send proof," she adds.

"Beanie!"

I turn my head to see Clarity running towards me at full speed, arms outstretched. I almost think she's going to hug me, but she wraps her arms around Blake first, and Blake hugs her back tightly.

"Rejection," Lindsay stage-whispers.

"Shut up," I say. Luke laughs from behind me and I get to my feet.

"Where are my parents?" I ask.

"Still downstairs doing paperwork," Luke replies, "can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," I say, "time's up."

He rolls his eyes. "I need a second that's as long as your life."

"Not going to waste it on you."

Letting out a frustrated groan, Luke grabs my arm and drags me out of the room, much to Blake's annoyance.

"Don't go!" He yells. His short little arms wrap themselves around my legs.

Clarity walks up behind him and gently touch his shoulder. "They'll be very fast, don't worry. Come on, I'll teach you a new game Lukey taught me. Linds, want to join?"

"Sure," Lindsay replies. The three of them head to a far end of the hospital room.

"Your sister's amazing," I say, my jaw slack.

Luke wiggles his eyebrows. "Like me."

"Meh. You suck," I say.

We head out of the room, and with a glint in his eye, Luke says, "oh yeah? Would a guy who sucks find out how to get into Walmart for you?"

"How?"

Luke holds up a finger. "Wait. First, you have to yell to the whole corridor that Luke Skywalker is the most amazing guy on Earth and you would shave his legs. Then I'll tell you."

"What is wrong with you?"

"Everything and nothing, Beanie. Yell it, or I won't tell you."

"You have to break in with me anyway."

"Lindsay didn't say that," Luke says, smirking.

That...

If I were a kid, I'd start stomping my foot in the middle of nowhere and throw a tantrum, but because I'm not entitled to that right, I give in anyway.

When I turn back from the corridor, I realise that Luke's phone is out and he's recording every single thing I've screamed. I let out a growl and attempt to kick him where the sun doesn't shine to teach him a lesson, but a nurse's voice from down the hall echoes back to me.

"You fine over there, sweetie?"

"Peachy," I say, my voice soaked in sarcasm.

Luke tries to stifle his laughter, but let me tell you this, Luke Skywalker fails at everything. I stomp on his foot and his phone drops to the ground, his face twisted in an expression of pure agony as he screams.

Point for Irabelle.

I bend down and scoop up his phone, before aiming the lens at Luke, who's now howling and hopping up and down.

"Any last words before I use this against you in court?" I ask amusedly.

"I hate you," he spits.

At that moment, the door opens and Clarity marches out, almost slamming the door in my face. Luke's phone slips from my grip and I fall towards him, but before I can, I catch myself. Lindsay rolls her eyes and gives me a little shove out of the blue and I shriek, Luke's shirt coming into view.

As Luke and I land on the floor, I look up at Lindsay and Clarity, who have taken over the phone. Blake stands innocently to the side.

"What the—"

"Shh, we're trying to make a Irabelle-Luke moment here," Clarity says. She squeals and almost lets the phone fall. She does an enthusiastic wave to the screen before Lindsay pans it back to us.

"Darn it, Lindsay, what's your problem?" Luke says through gritted teeth.

"Everything and nothing," Lindsay mimicks him in an exaggerated low voice.

"Shut the heck up."

"Lukey! No bad words!" Clarity says, her hands on her hips. Blake walks over to her.

"Heck isn't a bad—"

"Lukey!" Clarity scolds.

I rub the back of my head. "I just got discharged, you know. I don't want to go back in again."

"You won't," Blake says worriedly, turning to Lindsay and Clarity, "stop bullying her."

"We're not bullying her, Blake, we're trying to make her fall in love," Clarity argues.

Hold up. What?

"What's that supposed to mean, Clarity?" Luke asks. His voice is low.

"What? Can't we matchmake you guys?" Clarity replies.

"Clarity," Luke raises his voice in a warning tone.

"Mom said it too. You should stop getting so caught up in your past, Lukey. I know—"

Luke gets to his feet swiftly, grabs Clarity's arm and pulls her down the corridor, away from all of us.

"Well, that ended well," Lindsay says after cutting the video.

Blake peers down the hall. "They move faster than Usian Bolt."

"Luke's on the school's newsletter team, Blake, he has to rush around all the time," I say.

"Ooh, you know that because you stare at him all the time," Lindsay nudges me.

"Lindsay, stop it."

"Okay, fine."

*~*

I get home rather exhausted. My parents and Luke's parents have decided to go out for tea, leaving me with Blake.

He's refused to leave my side, claiming in case cars break through the window and knock me down. I haven't checked with my parents on how we're going to help him recover from his PTSD, but I really hope we do something soon. The new Blake is terrifying.

My phone vibrates on the kitchen counter just as I'm about to take my first bite of Frosty Flakes. Go ahead, judge me, but hospital food for a week has destroyed me from the inside out.

"Oh biscuits, she—" I say as I delete Luke's contact.

"What's wrong?" Blake says around a mouthful of Froot Loops.

"Nothing. I need to go outside, though."

Blake follows me out of the kitchen. "Why?"

"Luke's at the door."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"Hush, Pinnochio."

"Why?"

I reach the door and pull it open. Luke stands there awkwardly, his hands behind his back. He looks up and sees Blake by my side.

"Can I talk to you alone—"

"No." Blake answers for me.

"Yes," I say, "what is it?"

"It's about Walmart," Luke replies.

"Who's Walmart?" Blake interjects. Squeezing himself between Luke and me, he looks up at me suspiciously.

I have a mental facepalm moment.

"It's a what, a where, not a who," Luke explains, and Blake twists his mouth into a frown.

"What are you guys going there to do?"

My face heats up at the hidden meaning behind his words. "Nothing," I say, too quick to be believable. I don't really care. "Go inside, Blake."

"Why?"

"Just go."

Blake grumbles for a while longer, but upon realizing it doesn't have much effect on me, stomps his foot and storms through the door. After he leaves, Luke takes a step closer. He smells like summer air and mint.

"I've found a group of teenagers who can help us in our mission," he says dramatically.

"How would you know? Are your friends in that group? And breaking into Walmart is hardly a mission," I say, raising my brows.

"Stay on your side of the court and you'll be fine, Irabelle. Don't interfere in business that's clearly not yours," Luke replies coldly.

His comment stings, but I don't show it. "So...who are they and what can they do?" I ask, switching the topic before he can become too distant. Like the shutting of shutters, one by one.

"They call themselves the Fun Finders" — he sends me a grimace at my blank expression — "lame, I know, but that's the point. The police probably think they're some misfits just fooling around, but trust me, they aren't exactly like that. They're much more...ambitious."

I raise a brow at that.

"Anyway," Luke continues, "they host weekend parties in Walmart every week. I've talked to Weiner — yes, that's his name — and they're willing to help you. Count your lucky stars I'm around."

I don't actually hear anything after "Weiner" but my laughter.

"Shut up," Luke grumbles, but I can't help it.

As I bite my lip and straighten up, coughing, I wipe the tears from my eyes. "So...this Saturday?"

"Yes. And they'll let us in for an hour or two, because that's probably how long they can shut the cameras off."

"Interesting."

Luke rolls his eyes before turning around and walking off, waving to me backwards.

Brimming with excitement, I open the door, before someone shrieks. I step hurriedly into the house, and realised I've knocked someone off the stool he had been using to peek through the peephole. He sits on the floor huffing, arms crossed.

Laughing, I ruffle his hair as I walk past.

*~*

It's Saturday.

I stare at the Bucket List on my wall. So many things to do, in so little time. Can I do this?

Of course. Nothing is impossible.

I pull my hair into a high ponytail, staring back at the girl in the mirror for a while longer before I creep down the stairs. Everyone's asleep, and I have the perfect alibi: I went over to Lindsay's for a sleepover. She'll cover for me, I know it.

She's one of my biggest blessings.

Luke waits outside the door. "Very sneaky," he comments.

I look down at my attire — it's been made to blend in with the night, completely black, my hair tucked beneath my hoodie. The only thing that would draw people's attention would either be my speech, attitude, or  actions.

"Always be prepared," I whisper.

"Okay," he whispers back as we walk to his car.

"Why are we whispering?" I say, my voice still a hushed sound.

"Asks the person who started this," Luke replies, whispering.

"Stop whispering," I tell him, but my voice can't get any louder.

"Why can't I? And you're still whispering," he points out — still whispering — as we reach his car.

"Oh, shut up," I whisper back, grinning.

But he can't hear me, he's rounded the bonnet already and is flinging open the driver's seat.

Once we get in and he revs the engine, he stage whispers to me, "Walmart, here we come!"

"Stop whispering," I say, but I'm whispering because it's fun. Also, I've repeated the word whisper so many times it's lost its meaning.

Luke lowers the window. "Irabelle is a smelly pig!" He yells loudly to the sleeping neighborhood.

"What the— shut up, Luke!" I hiss as he turns back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"Well, you don't want whispering, don't you?" He hollers.

My face burns. "You're going to wake everyone up."

"But you don't want whispering!" Luke continues to shout.

"There are many alternatives, doofus."

A light clicks on and Luke curses, rolling up the window as fast as he can before stepping down hard on the accelerator.

I break out laughing as hard as I can.

A perfect way to start the night.

*~*

We pull up in the deserted car park of Walmart at eleven fifty. A gust of icy wind strikes my body even through my clothes, and I give an involuntary shudder. Luke notices, but doesn't comment.

"Luke, hey!" Someone yells across the lot.

Luke raises his hand in greeting to the figure standing outside Walmart's doors. Upon a closer look, I find a man in his late twenties, with stubble all over his chin. When Luke and him meet, they do the usual greeting: a man hug. A girl with pixie-cut short hair raises her eyebrows at me.

"And who may this be?" She asks, her voice cold.

"I'm Irabelle Beaniestein. Nice to meet you," I say. I extend a hand to shake hers, but she just scoffs and ignores me. I drop my hand awkwardly.

"So you're the lucky girl,"the man beside her says. He smiles, revealing two sets of yellow-white teeth.

"I guess I am," I reply, having nothing else to say. I force a smile for the man, because, hey, at least he's making an effort.

Luke chuckles. "Thanks so much for today, Weiner."

I struggle to keep in my laughter.

"Of course," the man replies, "it's great to help out each other."

I have a bad feeling about this, like something's wrong.

Weiner's watch beeps, and he claps Luke on his back. "Have a great night." He looks and me and smiles. "You too."

"Thanks," Luke and I mumble.

I push open the door on the extreme left, since they've shut down the automatic doors. The door doesn't budge.

See, I knew something was off.

"You're supposed to pull the door, Irabelle," Luke says, before he swings the door open with ease and points to the pull sign on the door.

I have nothing to say to my idiotic self.

Stepping in after him, I stare at the seeming-endless shelves of food and necessities.

Walmart has never seemed so big.

"I hate to repeat jokes, but that's what she said," Luke calls over his shoulder, sending me a wink.

Well, dang. I said that out loud again?

"I know you think it's funny and sweet, Irabelle, but seriously. Keep your thoughts to yourself."

My face explodes into a deep blush.

"I didn't mean to," I say.

Luke rolls his eyes. "Whatever floats your boat."

"Shut up."

We walk further into Walmart, and we pass the cereal section. Box after box of sugary — and some plain, healthy — goodness are stacked high on the shelves, and I simply can't resist the temptation to get a box. You can't blame me. Hospital food is strictly bland and healthy, so while I'm at it, why not be a rebel?

"What are you doing?" Luke asks, his voice louder than I'd expected. But then again, we're in an abandoned Walmart at midnight. He can talk as loud as he wants, provided no police arrives.

"Getting cereal," I reply, like its the most normal thing in the world.

The absurdness of the whole thing hits me then, and I start laughing out of nowhere, reaching for a box of Froot Loops. I miss it by an inch, and I hit the other cereal boxes next to it.

They come tumbling down like an avalanche, and I scream. Throwing my hands over my head, I crouch, trying to cushion the impact of the falling cereal boxes. Luke starts cackling from beside me as the last of the cereal boxes fall around me.

He smashes his hip into the shelf, and packs of cereal combo almost collapse on him, but he shoves them back in their place in the nick of time.

Police sirens start to sound. I freeze.

"I thought—"

Luke curses. "I know. Weiner said—" he shakes his head, "never mind. Come on."

He extends his hand and I take it, and then we're running, running towards the back exit, leaving the dented cereal boxes behind.

Luke tugs on the door. It doesn't budge. He attempts to push it. It doesn't work either. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he looks around urgently for any escape route. My heart is pounding in my ears, so loud that it blocks out everything else.

"Irabelle." Luke's staring straight at me.

"I can't go to jail, I promised my mom—" I don't even know what I'm saying now, words just keep tumbling from my mouth, faster and faster as the sirens get louder and louder.

Go.

"Irabelle Beaniestein."
Luke grabs hold of my shoulders, forces me to look in his eyes. They're calm and steady, his brown eyes holding me in place. "This is your Bucket List, and we've completed one task at least — we're that amazing. We will get out of here. Stop thinking so much and listen. Move."

Move.

With that, he lets go and starts running towards the janitor closet. I snap into reality then, my body a mix of adrenaline and the repeated message: run, run, run, engraved in my head.

Keep going.

We reach the closet and Luke pulls the door open, dragging me inside just as the front door opens with a loud bang. My heart stutters in my chest.

Stop thinking so much.

The closet is small and cramped, and Luke blocks the doorway, our bodies flush together, trying to avoid mops and brooms and other cleaning materials. His body is warm and hard, his breath hot on my skin. He presses his finger against my lips, a simple reminder: don't say a word. When his finger leaves my mouth, it feels as if it's on fire.

Footsteps squelch on the linoleum. Please don't find us. Please don't.

"You find anyone, Holder?" Someone barks and I straighten.

Pushing myself into Luke. He scrunches up his brows, and I awkwardly shrink back. He presses a hand against my lower back at the last moment, his eyes wide. I look behind me. I almost knocked down a mop.

My heart beats gets faster. Maybe they can hear it. Maybe we're already caught, and this is their elaborate scheme to catch us. Maybe when they "leave", they're actually just waiting outside.

Stop overthinking things.

Luke grips my shoulders again. Don't think about it. We're going to make it out alive. I lose myself, staring into his warm brown eyes. I'm okay. I'm okay. I repeat it like a mantra until I believe it.

"No, sir," comes a reply.

"Search every corner, every toliet cubicle. Don't leave any stone unturned." The squad leader yells.

"Yes sir!" Comes a loud, resounding response.

How many of them are there?

"And if anyone's here, I'd suggest you show yourself. We don't want to have to arrest you."

A chill runs up my spine. Luke rubs my shoulder reassuringly. The comfort of his touch eases my tense body a little, but I'm still panicking internally.

"What happens now?" I murmur as soft as I can into Luke's ear.

"We play 'Guess How Long I Can Stare'. And if we get found, we play 'Run For Your Life'." He whispers.

I shudder.

"We'll be fine, Irabelle Beaniestein. I have an alibi. I've got it covered, so just play along." He says lowly.

"What is it?"

"If I tell you, your reaction won't be natural."

"But—"

"Shh."

Someone walks past the closet. My heart thunders loudly.

"No one, sir."

"Okay. I'll do one last check. You guys wait for me in the car."

"Yes, sir."

The squad leader's on guard, opening different doors. If the closet door gets opened, we're dead meat.

I'm screaming in my head, hoping nothing happens to me. Or Luke. Us, basically. I was the one who dragged him into this, I should shoulder the consequences.

Someone walks by the closet. Time stops. The knob turns and then my pulse is racing at an erratic speed, my head spinning.

Blinding light pours into the closet.

"What are you doing in here?" The squad officer yells.

*~*

"I can't believe you were so stupid, Irabelle," my mother says, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. I look away, unable to meet her eyes.

She'd received a call from the police station, since Luke's alibi clearly didn't work. Apart from paying for the cereal, no major damage was done, but my mother had freaked out anyway.

She'd put on makeup, though, painting a perfect picture for everyone to see. The Beaniestein's are never imperfect. We're calm, composed, polite. Except for their teenage daughter, who's caused a whirlwind of trouble. Their son behaves perfectly well to blend in.

"You've risked our company's name, do you know?" She reprimands as my father continues to drive. "Our reputation is completely destroyed. I told you that whatever nonsense you'd started wasn't worth it!"

"Is trying to change the world's opinion of me wrong?" I snap. I didn't mean for it to come out this harsh, but there's no use crying over split milk.

"You can't change the world, Irabelle, don't be stupid," my mom continues, "we had your whole future planned out for you — I can't believe I let you do all this! Breaking into Walmart at midnight? Are you absolutely insane?"

"Mom, I—"

"This is all Luke Skywalker's fault, isn't it?"

"Luke has nothing to do with this," I defend, "we're not even dating. He's just — he's just a friend."

"I don't care. You've made a mess of yourself, look at you, and can you even imagine what you two were doing in that closet?" The disgust is evident in her voice.

My face burns red — both in embarrassment and anger. "We didn't do anything," I snap.

"Do you think I'd believe that? Teenagers nowadays are just all handfuls of trouble, going around doing stupid things for no reason at all. It's not cool, but the way. I expected better from you."

Her words are like a slap to the face. On impulse, I blurt, "I'm sure Contessa met your expectations."

My parents stiffen.

"You're grounded, Irabelle, and if that stupid Bucket List appears in my vision ever again, I'll rip it to shreds," my mother says.

Tears burn my eyes. "I'm not wrong, Mom. All I want to do is—"

"All you want to do is ruin your future," my father finally speaks, his words harsh and cold.

"I don't!" I'm screaming now, because they won't hear me out, because they don't understand.

"Irabelle, stop all this nonsense. I want you to cut all your ties with Luke Skywalker and Lindsay Carter. I want you to study hard and get into a good college and prove yourself worthy of inheriting our company."

"But I don't want that route. I want to choose what happens to me."

"It doesn't matter, Irabelle. There is only one path to success, and you will take it," my father says.

The rest of the ride is silent, and I look out the window at glowing streetlights, people sleeping peacefully in their houses. I wonder if their family is like mine — ripped at the seams, but still together nevertheless.

The moment the car is in park, I'm out the door, entering the house. I run up to my room, and enter the bathroom, stripping down and turning on the water.

The cold water is freezing on my skin, but I can't care less. It disguises the tears, the pain. My parents can't see that I simply cannot be that perfect daughter they've been envisioning since I was born. I can't play the part of the blonde girl who rules her school. I can't have a boyfriend on the football team, who will only serve the purpose of boosting my social status.

My parents have turned a blind eye to all my doings, because they've expected so much from me, and they've believed that I can reach their standards. But I realise now, that all I do, is let them down.

Once I'm in more comfortable clothes and in bed, I check my messages.

I don't answer, because I'm definitely not okay.