This chapter of my life begins with the element of water. And ice. Personally, I like ice more, but... this is off point.

People are so afraid of water sometimes. It can drown, scald, trap, flood, freeze. It can instill a spirit-shaking fear in even the strongest and bravest people. It can be furious, harsh, unrelenting and unforgiving, but it can also be gentle, calm, peaceful, and quiet. Many children that grow up in the shallows of the sea treat it like a dangerous friend that they must not trust but may still have fun with. Many grown people, after meeting the ocean for the first time, shrink back and prefer to lie on beach chairs, working on their "healthy" tans.

"What are you writing?" Willa asked, dragging a reluctant Z and a package of cookies along behind her. "I want a cookie. Can I have one?"

I snapped my journal closed. "I don't care if you have a cookie or not. Why are you even asking me?"

Z sighed. "Mother and Dad are at the grocery store. Nolan said to ask you, because he was busy."

I frowned. "You don't even like that kind of cookie," I told my younger brother, pointing to the cookie package held in Willa's grasp.

"I was coerced into asking you. Willa forced me."

"Huh." I frowned at Willa. "Don't be a jerk, Willa."

Willa shrugged. "Can I have a cookie or not?"

When did she get so annoying? "Say please," I said absently, fiddling with the cover on my journal.

Willa huffed, rolled her eyes, and stomped her foot. "I think you're the jerk," she said angrily.

Z turned pleading eyes on me. "She won't leave me alone unless she gets a cookie. Please, Nikki?" He gave me his cornflower blue puppy eyes. Willa did the same, and I sighed, relenting.

"Fine. You can have two cookies, Willa. No more."

Willa opened her mouth to whine, but Z gave her "the twin look" and they both retreated out of my room.

"Close the door," I called after them. They didn't close it, of course. Siblings.

I got up and walked to my window, looking out at the falling snow. A thin layer of white frosted everything outside, sparkling and glistening and dancing in the light of the muted sun.

The world was cold at this time, as I stood at my window, reflecting on the year past. My year had been full, of hardships and joys, of happy laughter, the kind you get when you open a present and get something you wanted but didn't know you were getting, and sad laughter, desperate laughter, the kind you try to cover up your tears and pain with. No one sees the sadness if you laugh to cover it up.

And just like that, my afternoon turned dark and cold to match the outdoors.

"Nikki!" Mother yelled up the hallway. It sounded like she was in my brother Nolan's room.

I sighed and closed my book. "What," I called back.

"Hurry and come down here! Nolan has a fever!"

I blinked. Nolan didn't really get sick a lot, but when he did....

I walked quickly over to my brother's room. "What's wrong?" I asked.

Mother turned to me, her face white. "Get some wet cloths and bring me my phone. Quick!"

"O-Okay," I replied. I caught a glimpse of Nolan on his bed. His skin was covered in a strange rash, and it looked like he was having trouble breathing. And worst of all, his body was... seizing up, like an invisible person was shaking him, violently. He looked so scary in that moment that I had to look away.

I dashed down the stairs and grabbed Mother's phone, wetting some dish towels at the sink before racing upstairs again.

When I got back upstairs, Mother dialed the hospital and instructed me to spread the cloths and place them on Nolan's forehead. I did as she told, frightened by her sternness and obvious fear, although she was doing her best to keep it hidden. It was obvious that Nolan wasn't okay, but I had no idea what was going on.

. . .

Mother and I sat in the waiting room at the hospital, waiting, waiting, waiting. Dad has called and was getting here in a few minutes, since he had to drive from his work.

The twins were at a family friend's house, since they were too young to enter the hospital. They'd begged to come, but the rules said that they might be carrying viruses or colds or other illnesses which might get to the other patients and do a lot of harm.

So we sat, Mother and I, leaning on each other in the bright, sterile waiting room with the slippery faux leather chairs and plastic tables.

A long line of people stood in front of the desk, chatting and crying and begging the receptionist to let them see an ill loved one.

I wondered how Nol felt right now. He had to be scared out of his mind. I would be. And he had to be wondering what was wrong with him, what his illness was. I wondered if his fever had broken yet. I hoped so.

All of a sudden, Dad burst into the waiting room, wearing a medical mask. He walked quickly over to us and hugged us both, Mother the longest. I pretended not to notice as she cried into his shoulder and as Dad held her tightly and whispered into her hair.

After a few minutes, they pulled apart. "Jeanne, Nickers," he said, calling me by my baby nickname, "have they said anything yet?"

Mother and I shook our heads. "N-no," Mother told him. "I've begged to see him, but they said he wasn't in a stable enough condition for visitors."

"Oh," Dad said. "We'll wait until he is, then." He turned to me. "Nik, do you mind going to where Z and Willa are staying? You shouldn't have to wait-"

"I want to stay," I interrupted. "I want to stay." My throat ached and filled with an enormous lump that made it hard to swallow around, but I managed. "I want to see Nolan." I'd wanted to add, "I want to make sure he's okay," but my tears threatened to spill over, so I went silent.

My dad hesitated, casting a glance at my mother. "What do you think, Jeanne?"

I watched hopefully as my mother nodded. "At least until it gets too late," she said. "I think she can stay."

Smiling, I hugged them both. But my smile disappeared just as quickly as it had come, because the receptionist at the desk called out, "The family of Nolan Frampton?"

I wrapped my arms around my waist and followed Mother and Dad up to the desk.

I listened numbly as the receptionist told my parents that a nurse would take us up to see Nolan.

A cute little girl sitting in a wheelchair smiled at me. She was wearing sparkly glasses with black tinted lenses to block out most light and a sparkly matching bow on each pigtail. I mustered a smile back at her and squared my shoulders, preparing myself for the visit.

The nurse took us up several levels in the hospital to the children's ward. Nolan hardly counted as a child, but that was how they did it, I guess.

Before going into Nolan's hospital room, the nurse pulled my parents aside. I stayed to listen, not wanting to miss a thing.

"I'm so sorry this happened," the nurse said. Her name tag read in bold handwriting. Sally blinked at us. "Dr. Werner is afraid that Nolan has HLH." Sally turned to me, sadness in her eyes. "HLH is a rare immune disease that can sometimes be hereditary."

Mother nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. "That's what your grandmother had, Nikki."

My face drained. I stared. "W-What?" How did I never know this?

Sally continued, "This is a really rare disease, and most of the time it would show itself in the first few years of the victim's life-"

Victim, I thought numbly.

"-but Nolan seems to have a special case. This is a condition in which the body makes too many activated immune cells. It's... quite often-"

Don't say it. Don't say it, I mentally pleaded with Sally. Yet somehow I knew what she was about to say.

"-fatal." Sally's brow furrowed and she blinked rapidly.

Mother and Dad just looked at me sadly. I stared back at them, horrified.

"Nolan has acquired most to all of the symptoms: neurological abnormalities, a high level of ferritin in his blood, he's having trouble breathing, his lymph nodes are enlarged dramatically, and..." Sally trailed off when she noticed my mother crying again.

"No, please, keep going," Mother instructed.

Sally nodded and continued her long refrain.

I eyed the door. What if my brother was dying in there? From all that nurse said, it sounded like he was extremely ill.

"Go on in, dear," Sally told me. "He's awake."

I accepted a surgical mask from her and pushed open the door to Nolan's hospital room.

I gasped. Mother did as well, and Dad rushed past me and over to Nolan.

My brother lay on a hospital bed, hooked up with all kinds of wires and needles. He looked so small. I wanted to go over and hug him, but I didn't know if I was allowed, and I didn't want to mess up his treatment or something.

Nolan talked quietly with my father as my mother and I walked up to his bed.

"...Grandmother had it?" my brother asked softly.

"Yes, she did." Dad sniffed loudly and pulled his mask down to blow his nose into a tissue.

I frowned. "Why didn't we know about that then? I just thought she'd died from old age or something."

My mother made the universal "shush" sign. "Since this strain is a hereditary genetic condition, we didn't want you kids worrying if you would get it or not. But it's not like you need to worry," she added quickly. "This hospital has a really good treatment center for this sort of thing."

"Yeah, but-" I intended to say, Yeah, but this condition is fatal almost all of the time, but I cut off.

Nolan shrugged. "I'll get better, anyway. They have really good treatment, like Mom said, so don't worry, Nik."

Mother started to cry again. Nolan hasn't called her "Mom" in so long. None of us have.

I looked back, studying Nolan's face.

A breathing mask covered his mouth, and it fogged as he breathed in and out.

He caught me staring and smiled reassuringly at me. But something was hidden behind that smile. Fear, perhaps.

He knows, I realized. The doctor must've said something about the statistics of this condition, and... he might not survive this.

The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water.

Nolan.

Grandmother.

She died from the same thing that Nolan had. Which meant... my brother... he could die, too.

. . .

I sat on the side of my bed. It was nighttime, and I faced my bookshelf, scanning the spines. I had been perusing the same books for the past hour, and I hadn't taken in a single book title. I was thinking.

My brother... Nolan... so full of life and fun and laughter.... He was barely sixteen. How could this happen to him? Why? Why him? Why'd it have to be Nolan, the guy who made friends with everyone at school, who always had people over, who I needed. I needed my brother. He was the one who always took me to my classes on the first day of school, who made sure I had my lunch with me, who always included me because I didn't have to guts to jump in myself. He stood up for me from bullies, before I started Martial Arts. He even took a punch to the face for me once!

And he was... in the hospital. Really, really sick, with a disease that almost everyone who got it died from. Including my grandma.

A knock sounded on my door. I looked up and saw Mother enter, holding a tray of food.

"You missed dinner," she said. "I thought... well, you might want to talk." She smiled at me and came over, setting the tray on my desk. I can see the puffy rings around her eyes, but no other evidence of her meltdown at the hospital.

"Oh, okay," I told her, not sure what to say.

Mother sat beside me on the edge of my bed, putting her arms around me. "What are you worried about?" she asked, although the answer was obvious.

"Nolan," I said. "And also... I had no idea that Grandmother had... had HLH. I thought... well, I don't know what I thought, but..."

"Oh, yes. I'm worried about him too. And your grandmother... she — we didn't want you kids to spend your lives in fear that you might have it. That's why we didn't tell you, you see? We were trying to... keep you all safe."

Mother sighed and pulled away from me. "Need to talk about it?" she asked me.

Trying to... keep us safe.

"But you shouldn't have done that," I said quietly.

"Done what, Nikki?" Mother asked absently as she rearranged my desktop.

"Shouldn't have kept that from us. Nolan was completely unprepared for this... and so was I. And I'm sure the twins were, too." I blinked down at my hands.

Mother came back over and sat next to me. She heaved a long, deep breath.

"I know." Tucking a piece of her short auburn hair behind her ear, she continued, "I just... your father and I... we knew that when we told you kids... that it would be real then. And when we found out that Nolan had the compatible genetics for it, we were just reeling from Mother's death last summer... and we couldn't bear to have to tell you children." She sighed again. "It's no excuse, I know."

"Well," I started, "I think I understand. Losing Grandmother was really hard... and I really wish she was still here, even now. I miss her so much. " I was going to add, "But that really wasn't an excuse," but my throat closed off for the second time that day and the tears slipped down my cheeks.

Mother looked up at me. "Oh, sweetheart, I had no idea that you still miss Grandmother that much. Why didn't you say anything?" She put her arms around me, stroking my hair.

I leaned into my mother, crying into her shoulder. "I... I just couldn't... I don't know why," I blubbered almost unintelligibly. "Z-Z knows, and I th-think Nolan knows..." I started to sob again, burying my face in my hands, ashamed at my tears.

"Oh, sweetie, I miss her too," Mother said, hugging me tighter. Was she crying too?

We sat for a little bit like that, just crying in each other's arms. There was a strange sense of comfort in shared grief, a sort of desperate clinging onto each other. Leaning on someone was rather nice, I supposed. Even if we were crying over a thing that had happened nearly two years ago.

After a while, I sniffled and said, "Hey, Mother?"

She wiped her eyes. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Can I... can I call you Mom?"

I held my breath, waiting for a moment as she blew her nose on a tissue.

She looked over and smiled at me through her tears. "Of course."

. . .