Chapter 1

Some time before that

'Miss Brown, we will not tolerate another truancy,' says pointedly Mrs. Thompson, our dean of science. 'Professor McNeill said that you constantly miss classes. He complained a lot about you. We must warn you, miss…'

'Of course I understand.'

The woman presses her purple lips together and sternly looks me up and down. She pays close attention to my appearance, especially to my outfit: shabby jeans and faded Homer Simpson sweatshirt. The lady frowns at me as if I'm standing naked in front of her. I am not a schoolgirl, there is no need to wear a school uniform. Or maybe she noticed dark circles under my eyes? My bad, I haven't slept for several nights in a row! Got it?

'Dolores,' she strikes a softer tone, her thin lips drawn into the semblance of a friendly smile. 'Do you need help?'

'It is not the word,' I mumble under my breath.

'No,' I say finally.

'You can take a year out if you need to. It might be hard to study and work at the same time. We'll try...'

'Thank you, I am fine.'

Lord, have I interrupted her again? No matter. It would be better if she kept silent, never interfered in my life, and most importantly – wiped off this false purple smile from her face! No one can help me. Neither she, nor my friends, nor even Queen Elizabeth. The only person who is able to settle the issue is me. And the one who is watching us from heaven.

I brush aside all the unpleasant memories, wipe off the past that poisoned my present and future, shake out of my head all the problems that are piling up like a snowball.

'You may go then.'

I'd rather ignore Mrs. Thompson's request and not waste my time after classes. Why should I give her explanations? Why should she care about me? Why should they all care about me? That's right, they shouldn't. They're not a charitable foundation for students in need, and they don't make as much money as gangsters do. Therefore, they are unlikely to be able to help me.

'Hi there, Lo!' my irreplaceable friend calls me from another end of the hall. Andrew looks cheerful and happy, which is completely out of keeping with my mood. He has his favorite hat with bear ears on, just like always! Thank God, there are no sunglasses on his face today. 'Are you going to the club tonight? I prepared a great show!'

'Not today, sorry,' I look with regret into my friend's shining brown eyes.

'You're going to visit him, aren't you?' My friend's cheek muscles are flexing. It happens every time when I refuse to hang out with friends due to the same reason.

'I am.'

'He is not worthy of your attention! Just leave him alone and live your life!'

'Andrew, it's too hard for him,' I say in a tired voice. 'Anyway, stop sulking at him! So much time has passed.'

'Sure,' the guy snorts, looking away.

Why does he have a beef with my brother? I have no idea. The guys were friends since childhood, but now they don't want to deal with each other. I am wrong though. Andrew is the only one who feels this way.

'Anyway, you should come today,' my friend, his eyes blazing with hope, hands me a booklet about a new show in the nightclub London. Sorry, Andrew, but I can't promise anything.

I say goodbye to my friend and run to the Dorm. Fortunately, I have no roommate. No one snoops into my life, no one controls me or asks awkward questions. I occupy one of the bedrooms and have the shared kitchen and living room. I take a shower, put on the same sweatshirt and jeans, and run to the hospital. I have to get there before visiting hours are over. Besides, Melanie asked me to take over my shift a bit earlier.

I walk down the long corridor, nodding to nurses as if we were friends, and enter the room on the third floor. It's a comfortable ward with a TV and a refrigerator, which is cleaned more often than the streets of Berlin.

'Hi baby,' Adam blurts out, smiling crookedly and making a peace sign with his fingers.

'Stop calling me baby!'

'Come on, I say it affectionately, sis.'

Yeah, sure. I was teased that way all through high school!

'I am sick of injections!' my brother is pouting his full lips as I sit down on the bed next to him. 'When will this shit stop?'

'Dr. Connor promised that we'll see the test results today,' I say, patting my brother's bald head soothingly. I doubt it would comfort him. He is seeking for normal life. A human life. But how can one get it when the death is breathing down his neck?

'I don't care.'

Just as I expected. He's been like this for six months. Never asks about parents and friends. Never asks about Andrew. Because it's too hard to talk about family, and friends have already forgotten about him.

'So... How are you doing, Adam?' Dr. Connor, the attending physician, comes into the room.

He is a good-looking man in his mid-thirties. They recommended him when my brother was put on a six-month waiting list for treatment. But time played against us. Adam needed chemotherapy as soon as possible. Of course, I immediately transferred Adam to a private clinic where he could get the proper treatment before waiting killed him.

'Awesome possum,' Adam puts on a false smile. 'Are you going to check me out?'

'Not yet. Your test results came in today. My fears have been confirmed. You need surgery.'

The suffocating silence overwhelms the room, and no one dares to break it. Adam's gaze goes down to his palms, carefully examines the needle marks on the crooks of his arms. Not all of them are caused by medication injections. Something in my chest tightens abruptly, becomes heavy, and then hits the tile floor along with the remnants of my soul that I have preserved after death of my loved ones.

'It demands a special technique and can be performed only by the best neurosurgeon in the country. Rehabilitation will be short, the surgery guarantees a long life and…'

'I see,' Adam answers for both of us because I'm not able to say a word.

'Think it over.'

Dr. Connor politely gets out of the room, leaving us in silence. In a tense, exhausting silence that swallows seconds one after another.

'You may skip the shift today. It won't help anyway,'- Adam's voice sounds like a voice from the dead.

'Don't say that again, okay?' I sit down on the bed in front of Adam and carefully shake him by shoulders, since I don't want to hurt him. It can be more harmful for him than chemotherapy. I make him look in my eyes. 'We can handle it,' I say sternly. 'You'll have the surgery and you'll be back to normal in no time. Got it?'

He nods without any objections. I look in my brother's eyes sky-blue just like mine, but lacklustre due to heavy treatment. I'm trying to give him hope for the future, for the day when he returns to normal and gets his life back.

How can you do it though when all the hopes are dashed as soon as you enter Dr. Connor's office and hear the fateful words?

'How much time does he have?'

'A couple of months, maybe three if we are lucky,' the man says in a flat voice. 'If we don't do anything during this time, the tumor will spread to the brain, and then...'

'How much does it cost?' I ask, realizing that our overdue insurance will not help much in paying for the surgery.

'Fifteen thousand pounds.'

'What?' my eyes are practically popping out. Fortunately, I managed to keep my mouth closed.

'We can't do anything else, miss Brown. As soon as you pay for the surgery, we'll start preparing him.'

Holy crap! What should I do? I make a thousand pounds a month, including tips. Where the hell can I get fifteen thousands? Besides, I have to pay for the hostel, food, and Adam's stay in the hospital. Should I try to get a loan?

'I'll get the money.'

I say it in a strong, self-confident girl's manner. Yes, I sound like a brisk one who has no doubt that she will handle three jobs, studying in the first shift, two part-time jobs and remain cheerful until the end of the day. Certainly, they have thirty six hours a day!

But I am not like that. I am weak. But for some reason, people believe otherwise.