Waiting For You

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was a normal day in my life. Boring, typical. Kind of slow. It was after school. I felt more tired then usual, but other than that everything seemed normal. I was reading and listening to music- One Direction, of course! I loved all the boys, especially Niall! I was rehearsing the argument in my mind of why my parents should buy me concert tickets to see the boys. I stood up to ask my mom- and collapsed. Just like that. Next thing I knew, I was in the hospital and my mom was sobbing by my bed. I looked around at the plain beige interior, the beeping machines, anywhere except at my usually composed mother. Finally, she raises her head and sees my baby blue eyes staring back at her. She sniffles and tries to pull herself back together, and at the moment the doctor walked in. He had a grim look on his face. I started getting scared. He cleared his throat and looked directly at me.

"Allena-" he began.

"It's Allie. I prefer Allie." I interrupted. It didn't really bother me that he called me Allena- I just wanted to delay what he was about to tell me. And he knew it, too. Because then he said slowly,

"Okay, Allie. I'll just cut to the chase. You... You have stage 5 leukemia. You have about three months too live." My mother started sobbing harder. All I felt was numbness. Emptiness. No pain or hurt. Nothing. I slowly closed my eyes as a single cold tear drifted down my face. I shifted into a sort of nightmarish reverie. I catch words from the doctor, such as "couldn't catch it sooner", "white blood cells", "chemotherapy", and "4 to 6 more months". At this point, it doesn't matter to me when I die. All I care about is that it's going to happen, and soon. This thought is what unleashed a storm raining down my face.

~ ~ ~

Weeks pass. I get weaker and weaker. My once auburn hair falls out. By the fourth week, I'm already wishing I was dead. That the agony was over. My only solace is books my mother brings me by the stacks, and my music. I blast Up All Night into my earphones while I fly through the adventures of Artemis Fowl. I sway to the songs of Taylor Swift as I get lost in the Heroes of Olympus series. I recite Adele's lyrics over and over in my mind or dwell on my favorite Hunger Games characters when the pain begins to be too much to bare. I am no longer alive, living. I am merely surviving.

On one of those dismal days, a young lady I'd never seen before entered my hospital room. My mother glanced up from her own novel and stood to greet out guest.

"Hi, I'm Margaret Cavanaugh, but you can call me Maggie." my mother introduces herself, which surprises me because I assumed she knew this stranger.

"I'm Shelley Brooks, from the Make A Wish Foundation. I heard about your daughter and decided to come down here and see if we could make her dreams come true." the woman introduces herself. My eyes grow wide at her words. I slip my butterfly adorned bookmark into To Kill A Mockingbird and set it down next to the hospital bed.

"Why would you want to grant me a wish? I'm just one of countless other children with cancer." I question Mrs. Brooks.

"Well, you were sort of picked randomly. That's how this whole thing works," she says with a smile, "So, Allena, I believe, what is your wish?"

I don't even have to think about what I want.

"To meet One Direction!" I burst out, my first show of excitement in a long time. However, Mrs. Brooks bites her bottom lip.

"They're very busy at the moment, I don't really know..." she stops and sighs at my crest-fallen face. "I'll see what I can do, okay?"

"Alright." is all I reply with. She leaves, and I settle back on my bed. I try to keep reading, but my mind keeps wandering to my wish. I knew it'd be too good to come true. But what if it does? What then?

~ ~ ~

Two weeks later, its a dismal rainy day, and I'm having a hard time focusing on reading Anthem by Ayn Rand. I finally fall into a deep sleep, typical of me these days. About an hour later, my mothers voice slowly wakes me up. I'm caught in between dreamland and being awake. I feel the weight of what I believe my mother's hand in mine. I squeeze gently and fight off the rest of my sleepiness. I yawn, my eyes still closed. Finally, my eyes flutter open and I turn towards the side of the bed. But, it's not my mother sitting there. My hand is being held by none other then Niall Horan.