Four months. That’s how long I have until I’m supposed to die. And yet here I am sitting within the rows of loud, obnoxious teenagers who won’t even remember me when I’m gone. None of these kids are my friends. In fact most of these kids are so rude that I don't even talk to them.  When we do talk, they usually just awkwardly make not so funny jokes.
I don't know why, but for some strange reason I decided to spend as much time at school as I could, just to pretend to be a normal kid. Although, it's not like it's a big secret that I have cancer seeing as I have to cover my bald head with a bandanna and use an oxygen tank to feel steady my breathing. Losing my hair during chemotherapy was devastating, it felt like I was losing a piece of my self confidence with each strand of hair. Most days I can't even stand looking in the mirror. I remember seeing my mother cry when she started losing her hair. I guess we were both destined for lung cancer given the fact that she was always smoking a cigarette. And maybe the reason my dad left us was because he was sick of Mom loving her cigarettes more than him. I haven't seen him since he left that day. He didn't even bother coming back when mom was on her deathbed.
“Brring-Brring”
The sound of the bell jolted me out of my day dream and I quickly gathered my things and walked as fast as I could, to my grandpa’s beat up truck.
“How was your day at school?”
I gave him the same answer I give him everyday.
“It was fine.”
I’m so thankful for my grandparents, they have given me everything, but often I wish my parents were still here. When my family was together, we were like three peas in a pod. We did everything together. I remember one day, when I was about eight years old, we all went to the town carnival together and had a blast. We ate our weight in candy, rode all the best rides, and laughed until the sun went down. Those days are why I miss them. But there were also the bad days, the days where they fought for hours. 
After what seemed like forever, we pulled into the pot-hole ridden driveway of my grandparents’ house.
“Hey Grandma!” I yelled as I opened up the door.
She pulled me into a warm hug and I smiled. Turning around I dashed  up the stairs to my room.
“Hey don't forget we are visiting your doctor at 4 o’clock!” Grandma screeched up the stairs.
As soon as I was in my room I grabbed my favorite book, The Wizard of Oz, and started to read it once again. My mother used to always read me this book at bedtime, which is one of the many reasons I love it. The book took my attention away from the seemingly increasing pain. 
After a few chapters it was time to go to the hospital. To be honest, I didn't mind going because all the nurses and doctors were so nice. Their happy smiles make the pain fade away, even if it was just for a second. I know they have hundreds of patients, but I feel like they won't forget me once I'm gone and that's a really nice feeling. 
The pain is suffocating, never ending. It's like having Death’s arms wrapped around your throat in a tight squeeze and knowing he'll never let go. Although, Death is becoming an old friend. Six months ago when the doctors told me I have less than a year to live, I was terrified and I still am.
Looking out of the car window, I saw the yellowing oak trees dancing with the wind in one synchronized rhythm. The roads were long and narrow and the ride was peaceful. The soft thump of the music was slowly lulling me to sleep.
When I awoke, the bright lights of the city blinded my sensitive eyes. It wasn't completely dark out yet, but I could see the sun was nearly set.
Grandma uttered “We are almost there, sweetheart.”
I nodded my head in response. Once we were at the hospital, we went through the normal poking and prodding that came with every visit. My favorite nurse Betty was in charge of taking my vitals today. Although she tried hiding it, I knew something was wrong when she frowned while looking at the chart which held all of my medical information . I believe my grandmother noticed it too because I could see the worry on her wrinkled face.
“Olivia, I'm so sorry. There's not much more that we can do.” Betty apologized.
Obviously confused, Grandma shrieked out, “What are you talking about?”
Betty responded with, “Well it seems like Olivia’s cancer is spreading at a much faster rate than we expected. The only thing we can do now is to try and make her comfortable.”
At that moment time seem to be moving in slow motion. My heart dropped to the floor and I could see tears welling in Grandma’s eyes.
“How long?” I murmured.
“Two weeks at most.”
Right then, I began to get angry at my mother. This is all her fault. If she didn't smoke all the time, I wouldn't be dying right now. Then, not being able to take their sympathetic stares any longer, I burst out of the room. While running out of the door, I nearly collided into a blue blur. When I looked up I saw bright green eyes that matched my own.
“Mom?” I questioned.
Within a blink of an eye, she was gone. I looked around and she was nowhere to be found. Then, it seemed like all the air was vacuumed out of my lungs. My vision became blurry and my head was pounding. The pain in my chest seemed as though my lungs were being crushed by a steamroller. My surroundings became hazy and unclear, then eventually all things turned to black.
When I woke up I was laying on a extremely uncomfortable bed with various tubes attached to my body. The pain seemed to have decreased, but I know it's only because I was on a lot of medication. Glancing to my right I see that my grandpa has joined my grandmother and I at the hospital.  I took my grandma’s hand it squeezed it supportively.
“I love you both.” I whispered to them.
“We love you too sweetheart.” She smiled.
I felt my eyes closing in tiredness. Then, I heard loud beeping noises and cries around me. Ahead of me, I saw my mother reaching her hand out in front of me from the darkness. And suddenly, I wasn't scared anymore.