Our thoughts become our words.
Our words become our habits.
Our habits become our values.
Our values become our destiny.
My destiny has been revealed. In three months’ time I’ll become Mrs. Robyn Speight. Lucy thinks I’m crazy and maybe I am. All I know is that when Carter fired his gun, the only thought to pass through my mind was of Callum. Our story may not have had the most conventional of beginnings, but it sure isn’t lacking in love. And the reason I know this will work is that when I finally did hit rock bottom, Callum was right there with me. He was my solid foundation, the stability I needed, and together we’re building our dreams.
The End.
If you liked Reveal, why not try
Promises Hurt
Continue on for a preview of the first novel in the Promises Series.
2011, age 15
I’M SITTING IN the medical center waiting room swinging my legs back and forth while my best friend, Em, has a blood sample taken. We’re supposed to be going to some pizza place that Em wants to try out after this. She overheard Ethan Jamison talking about how he likes to eat there, so now, of course, we have to go there too. Her obsession with him is beyond me; he walks around school like he owns the place. Sure, he’s good looking, but if you ask me arrogance is not an attractive feature; neither is hooking up with a new girl every week.
The waiting room smells like bleach and I’ve already flicked through the pile of out-of-date magazines on the sideboard. You’d think that someone would change them at least a few times a year, but apparently not. These places are depressing; the faded yellow walls and drab green curtains look like they’ve seen better days. Considering that it’s a waiting room and people have to sit here for what feels like forever, the designer could have put in comfy seating, but the ancient-looking plastic seats are only marginally better than sitting on the floor.
Emily had complained to her mom that she was feeling tired all the time, so here we are, trying to figure out if she has an iron deficiency or something. I think if she’d told her mom that we stay up online every night past midnight talking, she wouldn’t have been so hasty to bring her to the doctor. I’m pretty sure it’s a Facebook addiction she’s suffering from and not a lack of iron.
“Hey, that took forever,” I say as Em and her mom, Pam, round the corner. Em’s face is set in a scowl as she holds a cotton bud to her arm. She’s pretty even when she’s in a foul mood, which by the looks of it, she is now. I’ve always wanted to look like her, with that sun-kissed skin and silky blonde hair.
“Oh my god, Blair, that nurse was brutal. I’m pretty sure she pushed that needle in way too far. I thought it was gonna pop out the other side,” Emily huffs as she takes a seat beside me.
“Emily, don’t be so dramatic!” Pam scolds as she walks over to the sideboard and collects a pile of magazines before sitting down.
I smile and nudge Em’s good arm, nodding my head in her mom’s direction. She’s leafing through a copy of Men’s Health.
“I’m sure she’s only looking at the articles,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows as Emily’s draw down in disgust.
“Mom, will you please stop perving in public?” she practically shouts across the room. I bust out laughing as Pam’s face reddens and the handful of patients sitting in the waiting area turn in their seats to look.
“Honestly you two, you’re terrible!” she says, shaking her head and placing the magazine beside her, replacing it with Good Housekeeping.
It’s forty-five minutes before Emily’s name is called to go see the doctor again. She stands and motions for me to follow, as Pam throws her plastic water cooler cup into the trashcan.
“Come on in with us, it’s horrid sitting in here,” she says, as Pam nods her head in agreement.
We are led into Dr. King’s office as two other male doctors walk in behind us and take their seats. I have a sudden feeling that this doesn’t seem normal—why are there other doctors in here? The atmosphere in the room is almost tangibly thick. The room feels stark and cold; there are no pictures except for a few framed certificates. The walls are pale gray and the sun is casting shadows through the gaps in the ugly blue blinds. I think I actually preferred the waiting area. Pam’s shoulders stiffen as she takes in the surroundings, particularly the two men who are sitting to the side. Dr. King makes her way around the desk and looks back and forth between Emily and me before continuing.
“Mrs. Wilson, Emily; perhaps I could speak with you in private?” she asks, giving Pam a look I can’t quite read.
“No, Mom, Blair can stay. I want her here,” Em says, lacing her fingers through mine and squeezing my hand ever so slightly. I can feel a small tremble and I’m officially panicking at Dr. King’s suggestion that I leave.
“Blair is practically family, she can be present if that’s okay with you,” Pam answers quietly as we all take our seats.
“Very well,” she says as she moves papers around her cluttered desk. I’m sure she’s stalling and it only ramps my nerves up further. Emily feels it too; her hand is starting to feel clammy against mine.
“We have examined Emily’s blood results,” she begins, and I can see from the corner of my eye that Pam’s holding her breath. “Emily’s white blood cell count is not what we would expect it to be for a fit and healthy fifteen-year-old girl. Her neutrophils, which potentially indicate how her immune system is functioning, are extremely low. We would expect to see them at around seven, and currently Emily’s are at point zero six.” She pauses for a second as she removes the stethoscope she has draped around her neck and places it carefully on the desk in front of her.
“Okay…what does that mean?” Pam asks in a shaky voice as she moves her arm and rests her hand on Em’s knee. Emily is steadily increasing the pressure of her grip on my hand and I’m squeezing back just as hard. There is a strange undercurrent running through the room, and I’m sure something bad is about to happen.
“Mrs. Wilson, Emily…from what we can see from the blood results, we are concluding,” she gestures to the other doctors in the room, “that Emily has Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.”
The exhale Pam lets out echoes throughout the deathly silent room. I’m sitting frozen in fear at the words I’ve just heard spoken. My face starts to heat up and my eyes prickle as I feel the tears begin.
“Leukemia, as in cancer, Mom? Is that what they’re saying? They think I have cancer?” The words come out in a rush and are immediately followed by a terrified sob as Em’s body folds in on itself. She still hasn’t let go of my hand as her mom falls to her knees from her chair and draws her into a hug, shushing her. I look back to Dr. King whose face looks devoid of any emotion. How can she look like that? I don’t understand—how can she deliver the worst possible news anyone can be told and not break down?
“Mrs. Wilson, you’ll have lots of questions that I’m sure you will want answered but I’m going to give you these pamphlets that explain everything you need to know about the disease. I’m sure whatever I tell you at the moment will be forgotten in the midst of high-running emotions. I’m going to call for an ambulance to transport you to the Teenage Oncology Unit at UCLA Health Center. I think it’s vital that we order more tests on Emily right away to confirm the diagnosis.”
Emily hasn’t looked up from her mom’s shoulder and her sobs feel like a sledgehammer to my heart, each one shattering it into more and more pieces.