Celine
"I can walk myself." I say. "I don't have a tumour in my leg, do I?"
My dad sighs and lets go of me. I walk to the car, and Julien opens the door for me. I climb in and sit down, my eyes watering again as an ache settles into my head. I hold onto it, wincing, and for a few moments I feel so utterly helpless that I want to scream the world down.
I don't.
I lean back in my seat, closing my eyes as I roll the window down to let some frosty air in. I curl my arms around myself, scowling when Léo sits in the middle beside me, pushing me further to the side.
"Can you not?" I ask.
"Sorry." He replies.
Guilt swarms within me, and I put my hands on my face and groan into them.
"Everything okay, Celine?" My dad asks from the front seat.
I don't respond, clenching my eyes shut so hard they begin to ache. Léo nudges me. "What's wrong?"
I'm not about to answer him, either, but then I feel kind of bad. "My head hurts." I whisper.
My dad must be able to hear, because he says, "I'll get your headache soother as soon as we go in, baby."
"It's gonna take ages." I whine.
This isn't the hospital we went to when I was diagnosed. They referred us to this one for my surgery, and it's more than forty minutes away from where we live.
"My head is gonna be on fire by then." I say.
"Try sleep." Julien says from the passenger seat.
I curl my arms around myself, and I feel him set a gentle kiss in my hair before I drift to sleep.
Adrien
When I look in the rear view mirror and see Celine sleeping on Léo, I smile, thankful for the fact she's getting some rest.
"Dad." Léo says quietly after a few minutes.
"Yeah?"
"Is Celine going to be okay?" He asks me.
I frown. I don't know how to answer that question, because I don't know. All I can say is, "I hope so."
He looks down at his little sister, and I notice him hold onto her tighter. His eyes water and he starts to run his fingers through her straight brown hair.
•
Celine is still sleeping by the time we get home. I get out of the car and go to the back, pulling her door open and gently unbuckling her seat belt. She doesn't wake up, so I lean forward and lift her into my arms as carefully as I can.
Her head falls against my shoulder. Her eyes flutter open, then closed again. "Dad.." she whispers.
"Hm?"
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Teen FictionCeline Monet has lived alone with her mother ever since she was five, when her parents got a divorce and only one won custody over her. But finally, eight years later, her father wins shared custody. After moving across the country and settling...
