Chapter One

Ryan’s POV

I relaxed in my seat, aimlessly studying the other car directly across from me, waiting as I was for the light to go green. Listlessly, I noted the sound of cars wiping by and screeching tires in the background. I let my mind float over things that were troubling me, and things that were not. Mainly school, football. Whether or not I was going to ask that hot blonde who sat in front of me in English to Winter Ball.

Suddenly, the car beneath me seemed to halt violently and my body was propelled through the windshield. Shards of glass were forced into my skin like sharp, little teeth. The shattering noise forced itself into my head like an explosion, and with something akin to a shockwave, it annihilated all my thoughts. I landed heavily on the pavement, as though the ground had some magnetic power over me. Rocks and pebbles jabbed at my face and chest, and a blessed numbness began to spread over my aching body like warm water. My mind swam frantically against the undertow of unconsciousness and stars danced before my eyes, until, finally, blackness dragged me down from the light.

That was five months ago. And yet I relive that moment every hour of every day. Sometimes I wonder how that short time, at most ten minutes, could have changed my life so drastically. It’s amazing. One minute you’re getting frustrated because all the good parking spots at the mall are taken and you have to walk half a mile to get inside. The next, you’re begging God to walk again, even if that means walking fifty miles. And not to get to any damn mall, either.

I don’t want to live anymore. Not that I’m suicidal or anything. I’m just saying, that if I died tomorrow I couldn’t care less, as if it almost didn’t affect me.

I know what you’re thinking. “What the hell? This guys nuts.” Well, you get into a car accident, lose the feeling in both your legs and watch every chance of playing pro football go down the drain. Then get back to me. What’s left for me? I’ll tell you: absolutely and endlessly nothing.

Do you know what it’s like to have every person you come within thirty feet of look at you with nothing besides hideous amounts of pity? “Oh, gee, look at that poor boy in a wheelchair!”

Pity. I’m so sick of it. When I first got out of the hospital, a few of my friends came to visit me. They were so sorry for me, sympathy was practically oozing out of their ears. Admittedly, I got annoyed quickly when they started talking about the team’s practice or anything else that obviously didn’t matter to me any longer. They stopped coming, and I can’t say I blame them.

I hate all those people, but not as much as the people who encourage me to walk again. “You can do it!” “Just watch, you’ll be running again in no time.”

Yeah, whatever. The doctors tell me I might never even regain feeling in either of my legs, let alone play football. They’ve given me exercises to do, but what’s the fucking point?

I sit here in this metal and cushioned monstrosity, staring blankly out my window. The summer sky stretches endlessly and the sunlight beats down on me. My little sister is playing with her friend in the yard below. Listening to her squealing and laughing is annoying.

So. This is my new life.

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Rain’s POV

I’ve been volunteering at Sky Dance Ranch since I was thirteen, and that makes it almost fours years next month. Now that I think about it, I’m not really sure how to categorize Sky Dance. It’s like a combination between a rehab center and a hospital. Some people come here to heal, others to die. My brother Rodney has lived here off and on for six years. When he found out he had cancer, he just didn’t want to live anymore. He got so bad that my parents, as a last resort, forced him to come to this place. At first, he hated it, but the people here have a way of growing on you.

I suppose I started because I wanted to be closer to Rod. But now…..I don’t know. It’s almost as if it’s part of me. I couldn’t imagine spending my free time doing anything else.

Rod laughs at me when I tell him this. He claims I’m only here for the animals. Come on, man. Who wouldn’t be thrilled to work where you can easily pet a friendly pig and then ride a horse? Actually, it’s expected of me to interact with the animals. So hey, sue me if I appreciate my working environment.

I usually work with the little kids. I’m here just to play with them, make then have fun. But occasionally, I get assigned to a kid my own age. I guess it’s a good idea because I think an injured teenager might relate better to me than to an adult. And I get a lot of great friends out of the deal. As a matter of fact, I met my best friend here. Tammy was recovering from a car accident, and came here for rehab. When I met her, she was pretty depressed and angry; most of the kids here are at first. But eventually I broke through her tough exterior. Tammy laughs at me and calls me the ‘pretty little bulldozer’. She claims that people don’t have a choice except to love me. If they try to resist me, I just run them down until they don’t have the strength to fight me.

I plead the Fifth.

Well, anyway, I just got assigned a girl named Kelly. She’s seventeen and got into a car accident. She lost the use of her legs. Apparently, she’s gone into a depression and isn’t showing any improvement. Lucy (the volunteer organizer and head doctor) says she needs a watchful eye and someone to encourage her therapy treatments.

How interesting.

Not that what I’ve described is so odd really…….but it’s just that Lucy told me she played football before the accident. Now, that’s interesting. I think I’m going to like her.

I can’t help but smile when I think how Lucy told me about it. The slight scrunch of her nose and the raising of one eyebrow betrayed her confusion.

There is only one word to describe Lucy. Comical. Everything about her, from her flaming red, frizzy hair to her name. Lucinda Matilda Whistler. He he. I just love that woman.

I walk down the hall, and reflect on how Sky Dance is so very different from other hospitals. The floors are all a shining, glossy wood and lovely rugs make every inch feel homey. You know the rugs I’m talking about. The kind where your feet practically sink into fuzzy, fluffy bliss. The first time I came here I was eleven, and I distinctly remember trying to fight off the urge to lie down on a particularly thick rug in my brother’s room. Eventually, I caved and fell asleep. Now that rug has affectionately been dubbed ‘Ray’s pillow’ by Rod and Lucy. I expect they’ll give it to me one of these days for Christmas or graduation as a prank.

Well, anyway, I think I was attempting to describe the ‘ranch’. The main building sits on thirty acres of tree infested land -and I really mean infested. When the ranch was first built they had to clear ten acres just to build the barns and other animal facilities on. Well, at least that’s what Lucy says.

I come to Rod’s room and decide to go in. I mean, who wouldn’t want to wake up to their little sister’s lovely face?

Rod is sleeping (the bum) just as I expected. I sneak up on him, ready to pounce, and then change my mind about tackling him. He looks so pale lately, that I feel this immediate lump in my throat grow to the size of a soccer ball every time I see him.

He’s gone into remission twice and then the cancer just sprung right up again. The fact that he keeps getting thrown back every time he thinks he’s beaten his illness is really starting to weigh him down. He doesn’t really act like he wants to fight anymore. That resigned look in his eyes is really starting to scare me. It doesn’t belong in any twenty-year-old’s eyes, let alone in HIS.

I turn around to leave, when I hear his voice.

“Watcha doin’ Rain?” he drawls. “Spying on me?”

I turn around and smile. Rod looks tired, but happy to see me. He has brown hair that, although it very thankfully hasn’t fallen out, is dull and nothing like the vibrant auburn it used to be. Rod’s very skinny now, not nearly comparable to the healthy bulk he used to have. His eyes, though, will never change. They are a deep, wet emerald color fringed with dark lashes.

I try not to compare how my brother looks now to how he was before he contracted his illness. I learned long ago that it is a waste of time to dwell on the past. You miss too much in the present.

“I resent that. Why would I spy on someone as boring as you? If I wanted some entertainment I’d spy on Roger and Lucy.”

He has to laugh at that. You see, Roger is the head physical therapist. And he is very much in love with Lucy. You know what makes this even more fun? She is in love with him. But both of them have been dancing around the subject for years. Most of us here have been casting bets on how much longer it will take for them to confess to each other. Tammy has already lost; her bet was three months. Rod’s is coming up soon, but I don’t think he’ll win. Mine is seven months, and I’m crossing my fingers. If it doesn’t happen naturally by then, I think I’ll have to just take matters into my own hands. Hey! Don’t look at me like that! It’s for their own good. I mean, for the love of vegetarian egg rolls, seven months is enough to be pining away for each other, don’t you think?

Besides, I’ve got twenty bucks ridding on this.

“Yeah, well, I’ll let you get back to sleep. I’ve got a new assignment.” I say grinning at my brother.

His brow furrows for a minute. I know what’s coming.

“Rain, why don’t you get a real job? One that actually gives you money? I don’t want you wasting your time just to watch over me.”

I roll my eyes. This is not the first time he’s said this. I know he feels like a burden, but I’ll have none of it. Even if he wasn’t here, I would be.

“Don’t talk nonsense. Besides, what would I do with more money when Dad hands it out like paper? Really, Rod. Manual labor is so not for me. No thanks.” I scrunch up my nose and stick out my tongue, making him laugh.

I love to hear Rod laugh. It’s a pleasant rumbling that comes from deep inside his chest. It makes even the grumpiest people smile.

“Okay, okay. Go on and meet your next victim.” He says, smiling.

I give him a mock glare and head out of his room, closing the door behind me gently.

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Ryan’s POV

“What the hell? Do you guys really wanna get rid of me that badly?”

That was the first sentence out of my mouth when my parents told me where I’m going. My mother looked absolutely at a loss and my father, well, he didn’t really seem to be having much fun either.

“Look, honey,” my mother tried to console, “We just thought it might help you to be with people who are in your same situation-,”

“In other words, cripples.” I said, cutting her off and grimacing at my own words.

“No!” my father yelped as if I’d slapped my mother. “Not at all, son. We just think that the environment will help you get well.”

“Don’t lie, Dad. I know I’m just an added weight. I don’t blame you for wanting me out.” I said, feeling very high and mighty.

And then, I made the mistake of looking too closely at my mother……

Uh oh.

She was CRYING. I hate it when women cry, especially my mother. I think it’s just plain unfair. I mean, we men don’t cry to deliberately make them feel miserable. I think it’s their way of controlling us.

And you know what? I T W O R K S.

That was a week ago, and now I find myself driving to some dip-shit rehab center. What was that name again? Turtle Dance Farm? Whatever.

The car is quiet, and I like it that way. Ever since my mother forced this on me with her damn tears, I have felt that it is my duty to punish her as much as possible. So far, I haven’t said a single word to either her or my father.

Hmmm. This is definitely not your average rehab center, and you can take my word for it, because I’ve been to dozens. Actually, if I wasn’t here to be waited on hand and foot like some damn invalid, I might have liked the place.

The building looks like a gigantic tutor mansion, draped in ivy and with a sharply sloped roof. Trees crowd in on all side, despite the obvious attempts (dozens of tree stumps) to keep them at bay.

A little way off, several large buildings stand, and I’m guessing that it’s where all those damn animals that my mother won’t shut up about are.

“Honey, aren’t you going to like being around all those horses?” she had asked. I had tried to repress the strangled sound that issued from my mouth.

We drive up and park in the adjoining lot. Getting out of the car is always a major production. Not that I have any real trouble with it. In fact, my arms have always been strong, and I can easily lift myself out of the damned vehicle and into my chair as long as it’s relatively close by. But no. My mom has to fuss and fret until I’m ready to beg and plead for a cyanide pill.

Dad brings my wheelchair to the passenger side and simply opens the door. He knows I can do it and that I’d prefer risking a fall than having them help me. But still, Mom isn’t physically able to be quiet.

“Honey, I don’t think you should do that alone! Here let me help you! Why don’t you grab onto my arm……”

It takes everything in me not to shove her away.

When we finally get inside, I am not displeased with the building. We seem to be in a gigantic lobby; there are tables and overstuffed chairs by all the windows. Most of them are occupied by people. They don’t really look depressed, like most people do who are sick and or dying. Hey, I’m not stupid. People come to places like these to get well, and to croak.

It doesn’t really look (or, thankfully, smell) like a hospital and for that I’m grateful. I’ve seen enough white halls and scrubs to last ten lifetimes.

A decidedly odd woman comes up to meet us. Apparently, she has made an attempt to keep her overwhelmingly red hair under control. However, several frizzy wisps have escaped the lopsided knot on top of her head, making her look rather eccentric. She extends her hand to me and I raise an eyebrow as I take it. I am surprised that she has even bothered to notice me. Most doctors go straight to my parents, as if I was their damaged property and they had to repair me for them.

“Hello. It’s Dillion, isn’t it?” she asks.

“No.” I say flatly. “I’m-,”

“Kelley Summers.” My mother finishes for me. I shoot her a glare.

I hate my first name, so I always go by my middle name, Ryan. I mean come on. Kelley? What male in their right mind would answer to that?

“I go by Ryan.” I state coolly, after giving my mom a meaningful look.

“Well, that’s just fine.” The redhead says, smiling. “My name is Lucinda Whistler, but everyone calls me Lucy. I’m the head doctor here.”

She leads us into her office and my parents sit down. “Well, Ryan, I think you’ll really like it here. We’re all very friendly and we’re always having fun activities with the animals. And maybe you’d like to volunteer to help read books to the kids.”

My mother squeals in delight and fiddles with the purse in her lap. “That sounds fun, doesn’t it, Kelley sweetie?”

“Fat chance!” I feel like saying, but I plaster an aloof expression on my face.

“We have a program here where every new person gets assigned a volunteer to show them around.” Lucy continues.

“What?” I almost shout. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Lucy just nods understandingly. “She won’t be your babysitter. Actually, she’s a personal favorite of mine and I think you’ll really like her.” She states firmly.

I grumble, but at a silencing look from my dad, I quiet down.

“Her name is Rain Walters, and she is about your age. You’ll get along famously. Now, I’ll get one of my assistants to show you your room……”

Hmm. Fantastic. Not only am I stuck in this Little House on the Prairie rerun, but now I also have some flower-power chick following me around. I mean, come on. What kind of a name is Rain? Although it is familiar………….

Great. Just great.

HER.

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Rain’s POV

I walk down the hall, to Kelley’s room, humming some stupid song I was listening to on the way here in my car.

It’s funny isn’t it? How a song you might not even like absolutely refuses to leave your head. If I could invent some device to suck those damnable songs outta people’s minds, I’d make millions. I’d call it the Hummonator.

Creative, huh?

Well, there’s her room, just a few doors down. Before I can get there, I see a couple exiting.

“………Well, I don’t think we should just leave………..Kelley must be nervous………” I hear the woman say.

“It’s time for us to go honey.” The man says firmly.

I smile, knowing what they are doing. I have encountered many anxious parents in my station and have become somewhat of an expert at pacifying them.

I walk up to them and grin brightly. “Hello. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Summers. I’m Rain, Kelley’s designated tour guide.”

I extend my hand to each of them and the woman, I find with some surprise, has an alarmingly good grip. She refuses to let me withdraw my hand.

“Promise me you’ll do a good job! I just couldn’t bare to leave without knowing-,”

“I promise,” I say in a soothing voice. “I’ll take extra care to make Kelley’s stay a great one.”

“I believe you.” She says, visibly relaxing, but still not relinquishing my hand. She looks me up and down. “Well, you’re a little unusual but certainly nice-looking. I have no doubt that Kelley will enjoy your company.”

I look at her strangely. How does what I look like have anything to do with it? Maybe the girl’s a snob, I conclude.

“We must be going,” says the man. He grips his wife’s wrist and successfully frees my hand from her grasp. “It was nice to meet you, Rain.”

“You, too, Mr. Summers.” I say as they turn and leave.

I shake my head and laugh, now intensely curious about their daughter. I push open the door.

Okay, I’ll bite. Who’s he?

A boy sits in his wheelchair next to the window, vacantly staring out. His back is turned to me, but I can instantly tell he is muscular from the hard angled arms that pull his shirt sleeves tight. His hair is raven black and he would definitely be tall; sitting down, he still reaches my shoulder.

“Ahem.” I cough and he jerks, momentarily startled. He then turns around and I get a full view of him. His bangs fall nearly into his blue eyes and his chest looks just as toned as his arms. Hmm. Familiar.

Hey! I know him…….he’s that jerky football loser in my Math class from last year. We were always competing, and we both hated each other. What happened to him? And what was his name again…….? Well, whatever. He doesn’t belong here.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask. What can I say? I don’t do subtle. And besides, this boy is one of the few people in the universe I despise.

He flips his wheelchair up and balances precariously on the back wheels, making me very nervous. Hmmm. What an interesting sensation. I want him to fall, and yet I don’t. Damn these stupid ethics.

“That’s not a nice way to greet a person,” he retaliates, but in a nonchalant tone.

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Hello. Now what are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “I was checked in this morning.”

I shake my head. “Alright. But why are you in Kelley Summer’s room?”

He unleashes a slow and evil grin that fascinates and alarms me all at the same time. “I’m Kelley Summers.”

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Ryan’s POV

Well, I expected this reaction when I remembered who that name belonged to. She looks startled, and for once, she is silent. I use this moment to look her over. She is relatively short, probably only reaching just underneath my collarbone (ha ha, that is, if I could stand), and solidly built. She is shapely (I definitely wouldn’t have an objection to a casual make out session if I wasn’t already acquainted with her disposition), but she’s a far cry from thin.

Like the first time I saw her, I am taken aback by how unusual she looks.

It’s not that she’s gorgeous or anything. I’ve dated girls twice as hot as she is. But there is something striking about her. Maybe it’s her eyes. I’ve always thought her name fits her so well because of them- they are gigantic and a stormy blue but are subject to change with her emotions. The changing bit is one of the reasons she annoys me so much. I like stability.

She has a sharp nose that tilts down slightly, but for some reason it doesn’t look bad on her. Her hair is definitely something to be admired, however. It’s a chestnut-gold color and always, without fail, looks wild, as if a three year old took a curling iron to it.

No, really, she isn’t unpleasant on the eyes. She could even be intriguing. But once you get to know her, you will wish you never saw her to begin with. And now I’m wishing she’d just get the hell out. I don’t need her crap right now.

“Kelley? No way. I don’t remember your name, but it’s not Kelley.” She finally states.

I sigh, pretending to be bored. “Everyone calls me Ryan, but my name’s Kelley. I’m surprised you don’t remember my name. After all, we talked a lot last year.” I say, baiting her.

“You mean argued, not talked.” She rolls her eyes.

Now I’m getting annoyed.

I hate it when she rolls those eyes of hers. I don’t know why, but every time I’ve seen her do it, I’ve had to repress the urge to strangle the life out of her.

“Look,” I say as calmly as I can. “I think we both know that this whole babysitter thing isn’t going to work.”

She looks reticent for a moment, and then speeks slowly, as if carefully choosing her words. “No, you look. I’ve worked here for four years, and nothing, including you, is going to scare me off. I’m here to make you as comfortable as possible and show you around. And that is exactly what I intend to do.”

I look at her in shock. If I’m anything around Rain Walters, it’s definitely not comfortable.

But man, she looks serious. Why the fuck can’t she just leave me alone in my misery, damn it! I don’t want anyone near me, least of all her!

I don’t think I can change her mind.

Oh hell.

Author’s Note

I’m sorry if anyone thought this was an update for Killing the Cliché; I’ve hit a writer’s block when it comes to that story, but I promise to have a new chapter up by next Thursday, I swear!!!!!

So, tell me what you think!