Another update!

This chapters contains some swearing (including a homophobic slur) so just a warning. 

Lol. You've all heard it before.

Unedited . . .

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A beep wakes me up the next morning. I sit up, alert in an instant. I don’t have an alarm. So the beep makes no sense.

I try to move but something blocks me. I look down at Rick in surprise. He’s curled up against me, head on my shoulder.

“Hey. What are you doing?” I whisper, shaking him a little.

He mumbles something incoherent and grips my waist tighter.

With a smile, I leave him be. It’s not the first time he’s done it. And it won’t be the last. In my last round of chemo, I’d felt horrible after. Unable to breathe. Always stressing out. Getting itchy all the over, especially on my arms. The doctors had said it was nothing but none of us had taken any precautions. During that time, Rick hadn’t left my side. If I was asleep he was curled up next to me. If I was watching a TV show he was watching it with me.

I reach over and grab my phone of the bedside table. The first thing I do is check the time. 12:14pm. Blearily, I blink at my phone. Who texts someone at midnight? No wonder why Rick is out like a light.

I debate whether or not I should look at the texts. It can only be one person. And I owe Rachel for going AWAL for the whole week. Granted, I wasn’t walking and talking in that time. But Rachel deserves an explanation—even if it’s a lie.

From Rachel:

               Hey! Why aren’t at school?

And . . .

               Why are you ignoring me?! Text me!

Still four left. I sigh and read them:

               I have news! Trust me, you WANT to hear it!

               Call me!

               We’re all worried sick! I saw what that bitch made you do! Please tell me you’re okay.

 I’d completely forgotten that Rachel had been there, when someone had almost killed me. Did she know I’ve been in the hospital?

With a sigh I read the last message.

               I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to ignore you!

I frown. Rachel wouldn’t have sent that. I re-check the sender.

0403 897 474.

I smile. James. I haven’t scared him off.

Without hesitation I reply:

               It’s okay.

His reply pops up a second later.

               If you say so. I still feel terrible.

Before I can reply he sends another one.

               What are you doing up, anyways?

With a smile, I reply, careful not to wake Rick.

               Because you woke me up.

“I love you,” Rick mumbles, getting closer. “Be happy.”

Heart breaking, I kiss his forehead. “Love you too.”

He smiles before going back to sleep.

I look back at my phone and read the text.

               Go back to bed. It’s late.

Frowning I start to type.

               You’re up too.

He doesn’t hesitate in replying.

               I have a reason.

I type back:

               Oh yeah?

I stare down at Rick as I wait for the reply. He looks so peaceful. Nothing like Aunt Amie said he was at her house. I don’t know when he climbed onto my bed but I don’t care. He can stay here as long as he wants. Anything to stop the nightmares.

My phone beeps and I rush to turn it to silent. I’m not supposed to be awake this late since I have school tomorrow. At this point, though, it doesn’t look like I’ll be going to school.

I read the text:

*sigh* Yeah. My brothers having a party. It’s so loud I can’t even sleep. I don’t even want to know what’s going on behind closed doors.

I grimace and reply:

               So it’s THAT kind of party?

His reply comes through a minute later:

               Yes. THAT kind. I’d join but no one wants to talk to the deaf kid.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I ask:

               How can you hear it then?

Immediately I realise my mistake and rush to type:

               I’m sorry! That was a horrible thing to ask.

I stare at his reply:

               No, don’t be sorry! It is what it is ;)

Another texts flashes:

               And I can feel it.

I reply, frowning and thoroughly confused.

               Feel it? How?

I add at a ;) to the end of it, even if it makes no sense. James makes me smile more than anyone else and I’ve known him for less than a day. Now is no exception.

I can’t help but smile as I read the reply.

               I’ll show you one day. It’s too hard to explain. It’s a deaf thing.

My reply is impulsive and I want to delete it when I’m done. But I send it.

               Really? You’d do that? I thought I’d scared you off.

I sigh as I re-read it. Did I want to sound desperate or what?

I don’t look at his reply when it comes through. I don’t want to . . .

I look at it anyway.

I ignored you! It was on me, not you! I can relate to you. Everyone is so fake. They find out you’re deaf and treat you like a child. You treat me like a person.

The words are so true. I realise this is why I want to be friends with him so bad. He understands the struggle I go through on a daily basis.

I reply, typing so fast I barely know what I’m saying.

Same! Once people find out that you’re dying they treat you like glass! I’m not incapable of everything!

I don’t wait long for a reply.

See? This is why I like you. Nobody ever brings up the fact that I can’t hear. They’re all too scared. Unless they’re talking about me. No one realises I can lip-read.

I frown.

               I’m sorry ;(

I know people would never dare to insult me behind my back. The dying girl isn’t someone you insult.

He replies instantly:

Don’t be sorry! It’s okay. I’m used to it. I’ve been called a faggot too many times to remember.

A tear in my eyes, I reply:

               Now I really am sorry! You don’t deserve that. They all deserve to eat their own . . .

I don’t finish the sentence, because I can’t. If my parents saw the text they’d freak out. Besides, James will get it.

I read the reply, wiping a tear away.

               Ha ha! Yes they do!

He sends another text a few seconds later:

               Not something I’d imagine you saying either . . . ;)

I roll my eyes.

               I’m not innocent. I’m dying; I know how f***ed up the world it.

I read his reply:

               Did you seriously just type that! F***ed?! Who’s little miss Innocent now?

I laugh, typing.

               I can swear. Fucked. There.

I sent it and send another.

               Who are you anyway? The Bad boy police? Or bad girl, in this case.

He sends his reply straight away:

Wish I could hear you say it ;) (AND DON’T SAY SORRY. I WAS STATING A FACT). Bad boy police? No way. Drugs aren’t my thing. Neither is leather.

I smile.

               Stereotyping, much?

His response comes a few seconds later.

I’m not a virgin. That’s breaking the stereotype about deaf people. Granted, it wasn’t that great . . . but still. It counts.

I blush like mad.

               TMI!

I can hear the laughter in his reply.

               Thought you weren’t a prude? ;)

I shake my head, not disturbed like I know I should feel.

               That makes me a stereotype then, doesn’t it?

I don’t wait long for the reply.

               Seriously? Never? You’re gorgeous.

I blush again, unable to stop the giant grin on my face. I may not want him romantically but it still feels good to hear the words.

               Aw! You’re too sweet.

He replies a minute later:

               Nah. I’m just telling the truth. So . . . CG, why hasn’t a guy noticed you yet?

I laugh, replying:

               Because I’m the dying girl. And who’s CG?

I read the reply.

               Well, they’re all dumbasses, cause you’re beautiful. And CG is you.

I ask,

               Me?

He doesn’t take long to reply.

               Yeah. You. Cancer girl. CG.

Another text pops up.

               It doesn’t bother you right?

I can’t help but laugh. I should be getting angry at him but I can’t find angry bone in my body. He talks about the cancer like it’s irrelevant and doesn’t change who I am. It’s something nobody understands. It’s refreshing.

               I love it ;) That means you’re DB . . . or DG

He sends a reply a few seconds later.

               Deaf boy or deaf guy? Personally, I prefer deaf man, but whatever. DG sounds better.

I smile and type back.

               Awesome. You’re DG and I’m CG . . . Lol! They rhyme.

I read the reply.

All the better ;) So . . . because I feel like shit for freaking you out, how about I take you to the movies? Or the museum? Anywhere you want to go.

I frown, panicking. That sounds like a date. I don’t want to date him. With a sigh, I force myself to type the words.

               On a date? You’re great . . . but not in THAT way.

He replies straight away.

               No! Not a date! As friends.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Oh! That’s good then! I’m in. You do know that I have an oxygen machine right? I can’t go out without it.

I read the reply.

I know! Well . . . not really. I just figured you did. I don’t mind. People can judge us all they want. We’re better than them.

I reply, smiling:

               Okay. Where?

I smile as I read his response.

               It’s up to you. I owe you.

I type back:

The museum? I’m a huge history nerd. But if you don’t want to go, just say so! We can see an action movie if you want.

He replies within a second:

               No! Whatever you want. I’ll organise when and text you okay?

I smile as I type:

               Yeah, sounds good, DG.

I read the reply when it pops up on the screen.

               Awesome! Now go to bed. I don’t want to keep you awake.

I smile, lying back down. Rick whimpers and I hug him tighter.

               Yes, mum.

Then I type:

               Night.

Just as I set the phone, I read the last text.

               Night, CG.

Smiling so wide it hurts, I lean down to Rick. “I’m going to museum. With a friend.”

He hugs me tighter and smiles.

I close my eyes, still smiling.

Now, I just have to convince my parents to let me go. 

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~ Littlemissflawed