The Girl in the Hoodie

{PART TWO} 32

Oh, and she still despises Hazel. So do Dylan and Max.

They question my sanity everyday for dating her.

To be honest, I question my sanity too.

So do I.

Shut up, Pablo!

"Why do you look like you're about to sit alone in the dark, listening to Air Supply's greatest hits while crying about how much you miss Nevaeh?" Max pipes up after a moment.

"You're more of the, 'I pretend to play the guitar to impress girls, but when I'm alone I listen to Air Supply's greatest hits while crying about how I'm forever alone'."

I almost smile at the memory of the first time Nevaeh came to my house. Almost.

I shake the thoughts of Carter away.

I scoff, throwing a shoe at Max. "Shut up, you arse."

He laughs loudly as he dodges and bolts out of my room.

Dylan chuckles, shaking his head, pushing off the door frame and walking over to my closet, opening it and pulling out a random hoodie before throwing it at me. I shoot my hand out and catch it. "Come on, we're going to Pizza Palace."

He walks out and I shrug before pulling the plain black hoodie on. I slip my feet into a pair of plain black Vans and walk out of my room.

*~*

-Nevaeh-

"-and please, Aroha, don't do anything stupid."

I roll my eyes playfully even though Aunty Mila can't see me through the phone.

"Why would I do anything stupid?" I ask, wheeling my suitcase behind me into the elevator and adjusting the strap of my Nike duffel bag on my shoulder before pressing the button for the fifth floor.

"Just yesterday you were about to shove a metal fork into the toaster because your bagel got stuck." I can practically see the blank look on her face.

"What was I supposed to use? A plastic fork?"

"Yes!"

I chuckle. "Don't worry, aunty. I'm not going to do anything stupid."

"See, now that you've said 'don't worry', I'm worrying even more." Her calm voice comes from the other end of the line. "And you're not hiding your face with the hood, are you?"

I shake my head before realising she can't see me. "No. I'm not going to wear the hood anymore."

"Good. I didn't spend two weeks preparing that speech for nothing."

A couple months after I moved back to New Zealand, Aunty Mila sat me down and talked to me about hiding my face, and how I didn't need to, especially not because of -and I quote- 'my dumbass mother'.

Everything she said was right and I realised I didn't need to hide my face.

Also, about ten months into chemotherapy, I decided that I didn't want it, nor did I need it. I was going to die anyway, so what's the point?