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Creators=Alec Tibaldi. Directed by=Alec Tibaldi. . 2019. tomatometers=4,3 of 10 Star. Spiral Farm is a movie starring Piper De Palma, Amanda Plummer, and Jade Fusco. When two outsiders arrive on an isolated intentional community, seventeen-year old Anahita begins to question her role at home, and what a future out in.

EDIT: if markup doesn't work for you as expected, switch to Old Reddit. Found a pretty interesting tweet ( part 1, part 2) by @fkn3 (AlitaArmy member) on the Alita Index (I absolutely recommend subscribing to its RSS feed and submitting more links to it). This tweet contains photos of (I believe, the first) 6 pages from James Cameron's notes. Those are 6 pages that came from the 600 pages of notes written by James Cameron on Alita movie. When JC gave Robert Rodriguez his 180 page long movie script he also gave him 600 pages of notes. -- tweet by @fkn3 In some countries the steelbook doesn't come with a digital code. Instead they come with a 4th disc that has a discussion between James Cameron & Robert Rodriguez. During that they flash on the screen these pages (for a few seconds). I screen grabbed them. -- tweet by @fkn3 I've re-typed all text from these pictures into a text file ( link to original text), I even tried to preserve every dash and line break as they appear in the pictures, hehe. Now, let me present to you a slightly edited version with proper markup and editor's (i. e. my) notes. THEMES Everyone in the story is yearning for something they can't have Hugo is yearning for a life in the sky city - curiosity, imagination, the dream of a better life. Chiren has a bitter yearning for her lost status as a citizen of Zalem... luxury and power. Ido yearns for order, for release from guilt, and for the lost daughter he can't get back. Alita doesn't even know what to want - she has no identity, so she has no yearning. She yearns to be loved, to be accepted, which gets focused on Hugo. Ultimately, her quest is for the truth, for her identity. These films should be an idictment of war, not a celebration of it. Both sides had become evil... and the soldiers were pawns. Alita cannot feel guilt for a war she didn't create. But she does, once she realizes her role in the destruction of civilization. There have always been wars, there will always be wars, unless human nature or indeed the natural rules of competition and selection are altered. There will always be warriors, in some ages relived, in others celebrated as heros. But this story is told in a world shattered to its depths by war. People live in the wreckage of a war which ended two great civilizations and caused immeasurable suffering. That war is not celebrated, or even remembered. Everything about that war seems to be a part of a time of darkness best forgotten, even though it was a time of technical wonders beyond what can be achieved now. No one really remembers or cares who started the war, if such a thing could even be objectively known. History is both forgotten and suppressed. There are no historians in Iron City, and the history in Zalem is highly redacted to suit their own fantasy of empire and nobility of purpose. Alita represents many things which make her an enemy of Zalem - a literal enemy, a warrior of the Urm. But also someone from that time, who may remember the truths that Zalem seeks to suppress. And she embodies technologies which are forbidden, because they could again unravel their fragile civilization. Each level lies to the one below it. Governments lie, and distract, and do what they were going to do anyway, without the people understanding, or even caring that they do not understand. The people find themselves in wars without knowing why. What led to it? What were the root causes? Who attacked who first? This question should never be answered. It doesn't matter who started it. Humanity's failure is that it started. Once it starts there is always a wrong which needs to be righted, always an attack which needs to be avenged. Memory is short, hatred is long... and truth is the first casualty. Few wars are just wars. And the Great Interplanetary War was not a just war. There were many off ramps, but neither side had the wisdom to take them. The Fall of all things, of all that had been created and accomplished throughout history... cannot be justified. But world leaders had played on the brink of that abyss since the 20th century, and didn't think about it any more. By the 23rd century, it was background noise to their decision making process. All wars are a failure of leadership. When you are at one level, you can't know what's at a higher level. The world... understanding... truth... consciousness... they are all like a big video game. You have to move up to the next level to see what's there. Then you have to learn the rules of that level, in order to progress. An upward spiral of revelation. The world of the 26th century is a metaphor for that principle. There is the Underworld (the ruins below the city)..... the Lower World (Iron City, the Ag region, the Badlands)...... then above that Zalem...... and above that Centerpoint (midway up the Ladder, 30, 000 miles in space - the zero g hub and space docks)... and above that the nearly mythical Ketheres Elyon, the Star City... gateway to interplanetary and interstellar space. In between the worlds runs the Ladder. This world architecture is a metaphor for government, for power, for wealth, for spiritual evolution. It is a metaphor for growing up. As a child, you can't imagine the level above you... teenager. As a teenager you can't imagine the world of the adult. As a young single, you can't imagine the world of the parent. And yet all of these worlds must co-exist, and find a way to cooperate. Each level rules the one below it, through superior information, through greater truth, and greater physical power. Fate has a terrible power. You cannot escape it by wealth or war. -- Sophocles Oh God! That one might read the book of Fate. -- Shakespeare Each day in Iron City, amongst the survivors of her past attack, would be a curse if not her loss of memory Her memory wipe is truly a fresh start, without the burden of guilt. And that her search for identity leads her into darkness... but like a moth to a flame she is drawn deeper, until the final reveal. As she progresses, as she closes in on the truth in the later films, then her nightmares come, and her sleep is tortured. Her brain is slowly rebuilding and reconnecting the atomized fragments of her memory. Alita doesn't know what food she likes, or what music. She doesn't know what she believes. God, no God? Muslim, Christian? Democrat, Republican? Smoking, non-smoking? Glass half full, glass half empty? Can't answer the simplest questions. This feels strange, and is a constant reminder that she is a blank slate. Much of what makes up our identity are the choices we have made. Like an Alheizmer's victim who feels they know the answer... it always seems to be right on the tip of her tongue... but it's just not there. But this is also cool. She gets to discover everything all over again, without prejudice. She is a blank slate, free of guilt and regret. She is reborn, but not as a baby... as a fully conscious entity. This, combined with her innate animus... her enthusiasm for life, makes this a magical time for her. This makes her feel young, new. As a result she seems younger than her real years to Ido and the others, especially since he has reconceived her physical form as immature. Slowly, it dawns on her that she is older than she looks... and certainly older than ido thinks of her. NOTE: Ido may have a general idea of her biological age by tests of her brain or blood tissue, or by some standard metrics which he can scan from the outside. She is biologically about 18, when she gets the Berserker body, it responds to her subconscious self-image by taking on the body of a girl of 18. But probably Ido's tests should only give him a range - say 14 to 18, and he (for psychological reasons) assumes the low side, when in fact she is the high side. What all this does is set up a conflict between her and Ido over her own ability to take responsibility for herself... and his lack of ability to trust her decisions and choices. No matter how old she is, she will always be stubborn, headstrong and impulsive... behavior which he would view as immature even if she proved to be 70. So part of it is personality, part of it is body image, and part of it is his projection of his own need for her to be a child. This is all a metaphor for the classic parent-child dissonance. The child, with no reference point, always assumes he/she is more grown-up than they are, and certainly more than the parent perceives them to be. The parent projects their own fears and concerns onto the child, and overlays a grid of their own life experience... experiences the child has not had yet. The parent remembers how ill-equipped they were to deal with these situations, and the protective reflex is to limit the child's premature exposure to these environments and situations. The child, meanwhile, hungers for these new experiences instinctively. Children are natural explorers, and hungry for the truth regarding the mysteries of the world. They also naturally evolve toward a rejection of the parents... a cutting of the psychological umbilical cord, which is part of the process of independence and individuation. This is all natural, but it is painful for the parent, who is unwilling to let go of the child's dependence, because it has become part of the parent's self-definition and purpose. The hardest and most important act of parenting is the "letting go"... the empowerment of the child as an independent, decision making individual. The strength of the story, as with all stories, will be in the universal human dynamics, even in unfamiliar settings, and even with extraordinary people. This film will only work if the emotional dynamics are readily recognizable... especially because the world is strange and exotic, and the characters unusual. This works well with Ido and Alita, and Alita and Hugo, Ido/Chiren. EDITOR'S NOTE: serious spoilers for manga volumes 7-9 ahead EDITOR'S NOTE 2: some of the text on the last two pages was obstructed by other pages, I've replaced everything I couldn't read with underscores. But Nova is opaque and enigmatic, and so are and. This is a problem. Kaos is not a character, he is a metaphor. He is man's consciousness divided: the angry, warlike, brutal, stubborn aspect separated from the compassionate, poetic and wise aspect. The message is that we need both. Much of our strength, our will to live, to be free... resides in the savage aspect. The illogical animal which cannot accept death, defeat, or a cage. But the strong man, without compassion, is a monster. And the wise, compassionate man, without the strong man, is weak and indecisive, and cannot lead. Freedom is not given, it is earned... often taken. All of life is a battle, and we need the warrior within us to survive. But the warrior must be held in balance. When the ______________________________________ doesn't work. Alita could learn this from Kaos. Kaos theory. She has suppressed her human side, become a blade of purest steel, a machine thing without feeling. A creature of rage. From Kaos she learns balance. So Den cannot be a hero. Den must die, to make Kaos whole (or free him from the curse, so he can lead). Kaos must absorb Den. This could be the reason she seeks to destroy Den. When the Barjack "liberate" a village or farm, they pass out guns and enlist new troops to overthrow Zalem. A turning point for Alita is seeing them handing out guns to little kids, like toys. She doesn't know where it comes from, but deep inside her she has a powerful reaction to seeing children turned into warriors. She knows that no end justifies that as a means. The epic cycle of this story could be about the inevitability and the folly of war - a world ravaged by war, slowly rebuilds... only to have war again. Alita is a warrior, but she fights as an individual, for what she believes in, for justice... and to protect the weak. Organized armies doing the bidding of others scare her... she does not want to join the Barjack, even to bring down Zalem, the oppressor. Alita's motivations should always be personal, not political or idealogical. She is not a revolutionary. She is a loner, a maverick... a random number, a variable, an unstable particle... the algorithm which cannot be predicted. She is a catalyst for change. She follows her heart, always. And we know that her heart is pure. She is a fearless spirit, a person of principle. A protector of the weak. A seeker of justice. And capable of the most fearsome vengeance imaginable. She'll kill you in the blink of an eye if you harm someone she loves. She is never selfish. She doesn't care about wealth or power. But she admires strength and principle. She loves Ido, and respects him as a healer, as a man of good heart. She does not fear death, but she fears her own nature. She knows there is a demon inside her, and _______th can be awesome.

Spiral farm full movie 2017. Spiral farm full movie torrent. Bruh Be More Chill. Spiral farm full movie online. Who is gonna stop watching Oscars if this movie doesn't get atleast one (cinematography. Spiral farm full movie hd. Spiral farm full movie movies. About 10 years and a week ago, little baby me peed onto a strip. The color changed, and my, then girlfriend, ex told me that meant I was pregnant. I was dating a girl, so I obviously wasn't carrying her kid. I remember just blankly staring at the strip, wondering why this was happening. I'd gone through years of emotional abuse, neglect, being beaten by my siblings, being bullied horribly, but those only ruined my mind. Sexual abuse was going to ruin my life. At fourteen years, 11 months, and one week, I remember feeling like all of my blood rushed out from me onto the floor in that movie theater bathroom. I remember seeing my normally pinky pale face reflected almost paper white, and my fingers shaking violently as I pinched the little strip my ex told me confirmed my worst fucking nightmare. The huge mirror seemed to warp, changing me from just chubby to massively pregnant, and I remember the floor feeling like it was being yanked out from under me. I remember stopping outside a Cumberland Farms on my way home, handing over my cash to my girlfriend's friend and begging her to get me a pack of Marlboro Red's, then staring blankly into the side mirror, just watching myself as I felt so many emotions that I stopped feeling. Time seemed to swim, staring at myself both taking hours and simultaneously seconds, until a knock on the door next to me broke my trance. She threw me some shitty cigarettes, less than half the price of the ones I wanted, but that was fine. I didn't even notice she kept the change, instead using the car lighter to light one of the cigarettes. It tasted like what stale piss smells like, and I remember hacking and spitting trying to keep the taste from settling in my mouth, but chain smoking half the pack anyway. I remember asking to stay with my best friend. Her mom knew, and her mom is an absolute angel. I remember staring into space a lot, just thinking, and wide swathes of blankness. I remember my best friend's mom calling mine to meet us at a park her brother owns. I sat in a chair, staring at the table like it held all of the answers to life if I could just crack the code of the wood grain. I remember my best friend's mom explaining, and how hard it punched my mother in her gut. The sound of her voice cracking as she asked "Daddy"" to me, asking if he had done this to me, will always be burned into my mind. She left, and all I remember is her trying not to cry. At some point, the timeline's very fuzzy for me, I remember sitting in a handicapped stall, pregnancy test my best friend bought me sitting on the sink, and just waiting. I remember wanting to vomit but choking it down, the 3 minute hold time stretching into eternity. It never changed though, and I remember being so relieved about that but also being horrified. It was like some theoretical baby had been killed, even if I didn't want to have a child when I was still a baby myself. I remember being called down to the social worker's office, some waif of an ancient woman, and plinking together X's and O's on a magnetic base as I confirmed about my father. I remember feeling like it was all some fucked up dream, and my fingers barely clinking together the shapes like someone else was trying and failing to pilot my body. I remember the day everything changed. It was dark out still, with the only light in the living room I was sleeping in coming from the single light on in the kitchen and the alarm clock next to me. It was too early, and I didn't know what was going on. It was a school day, and I remember hearing my best friend's mom talking quietly, then the strangest thing, my maternal grandparents answering. I saw my mom, but she didn't speak, just gestured for me to get up. I remember the biting cold of the metal frame of the sofa bed burning me as I sat, trying to force myself up, then flashes of me hugging my best friend's mom, seeing my grandparents, then being in their car as we drove home. I remember parking on the lawn and people being in my house. People kept apologizing, but I was numb. I just remember sitting on the couch, then blankly staring ahead. Then blanks for days, with the knowledge that my abuser killed himself vaguely sinking in. I remember forcing my mother to eat pasta I made with meat sauce, feeling like I was responsible for her rather than my mother helping me not fall apart. She lost her husband, but I lost a rapist, an abuser, and a father. I remember being roped into using limewire to get the songs for his funeral. Me, the one kid of his actually severely affected, being forced to set aside my trauma. I remember almost tackling her when she asked "Would the song There was always love in daddy's hands" not be okay for you? " I remember staying outside for most of the funeral and trying to joke around, just to feel something. It felt like I was both empty inside and way too fucking full, simultaneously. Like the pressure inside would explode me if I just let it. My paternal grandfather died soon after, and his attempt to sexually assault me wasn't talked about. I didn't have anyone to talk to about it, so I just left that to fester too. I don't remember having a birthday that year. Only weeks after he killed himself, I turned 15. Only this past 4th of July did I tell my aunt, one of my favorite people, why my dad really killed himself. It wasn't the potential cancer in his lungs or the medical issues piling up. It was me and him refusing to go to jail as a pedophile who raped a child every day from 9 to just before he died. I still have issues from it. I still have flashbacks and nearly punch my boyfriend, rarely, when we're intimate. I still have a hard time talking about family. I still can't go back to that park where my mother found out. I remember not wanting to talk about it, but my therapist just circling back to it every session. The other, many many other issues, in my life being brushed aside to pick at the scab over the memories. The sharpest part was a girl who I hated, who hated me back, telling me over the internet to "Go get raped by your dead dad". Seeing that message come in will always be burned into my memory, and I remember debating suicide rather than acknowledge that. I remember my therapist's almost condescending look as she asked why not just delete social media. I don't know that I even have a point posting in here on my throwaway but I just had to get this out somewhere. I'm a little numb and I don't know if I will be able to eat today, but it's both back vividly in my mind yet a decade away. I can't believe it's been a decade since he killed himself. It's some sort of relief, knowing he's been dead and gone for so long, but still I just want to spend money I don't have on pizza and wings and junk food rather than make myself cook again and eat something not horrible for me. I've already spent money I don't have back when my depressive state was too deep and I was spiraling just shy of trying to kill myself again. I just want to eat something hot and feel taken care of instead of feeling like I'm that same 14 year old little traumatized child forced to take care of an adult who should be caring for me instead.

Spiral farm full movie cast. Spiral farm full movie. Spiral Farm Full movie page. Damn. Was really hoping to hear Detective Tapp en route Saw good though. See what I did? Teeheeeheeeeee. How can you make 30k an hour? A normal vana run in 20 minutes? i thought that only loot runs good only be done in 20 minutes. You should definitely make a video on that and reply to this. Spiral farm full movie free. Sees Hitler TAKE MY MONEY, AND GIVE ME THOSE TICKETS. I wonder if theyll do something like this surrounding the scandal of Matt Lauer on NBC. I want to punch vegans now. Spiral farm full movie songs.

They should have let the humans roam freely in the grass and make them organic. Spiral farm full movie trailer. One of the best movies Ive seen. Absolutely beautiful! ❤️. Spiral farm full movie video. I love the scenography representing Francisco feelings in his young version sitting in a cliff watching the horizon 1:08 or him walking in a muddy dessert 0:56. This is the weirdest Disney movie trailer i have seen. This trailer needs more Erika. Imagine Pope Francis watching this movie. Im so glad Roger Ailes is dead 💀 👍🏻. Never would have guessed that in 2004 when the first saw came out there would be 9 movies then get rebooted in 2020 by Chris rock and Samuel L. Jackson.

Spiral farm full movie download. I had never closed porn so fast. Who else thought pewdiepie when the click the thumbnail. Spiral farm full movie watch. In the beginning it said they were outnumbered and out manned. That is lie Allies had at least 5-1 advantage in manpower and 10-1 in tanks, and full control of the skies. What stalled them was the Siegfried line and weather. Whos here from bad juju. Check out the new Trailer For Taika Waititi's Jojo Rabbit. Spiral Farm Full movie page imdb. “So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.” James 4:17.

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Great, another American movie fighting the Germans. There arent a million of those. We seem to forget that although we helped in Europe our big win was in the pacific. The Soviets were the main reason Germany lost (although we did our part dont get me wrong) but in the pacific we played a much larger role in japan defeat. Plus imo pacific war movies are a million times more interesting due to the brutality and savagery of the fighting in the pacific. Tbh I wouldnt mind seeing an eastern Front movie come out in English either:b.

Spiral farm full movie hindi. Question on the Regisseur: What were your reasons/points you made this movie? All things about hitler is not funny. In my opinion he must have been terrible. Spiral Farm full movie. This is a Motel Hell with a different storyline No one beats Farmer Vincent. It was a beautiful day in North Dakota. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and I had just puked all over myself. Again. You’d think that after fifteen years of living with chronic illness, I’d be used to my body. But no, cystic fibrosis has a mind of its own. The worst thing? As I lay in bed, my stupid bag IV bag was blocking the view of my gymnastics medals and trophies. Not that I stood any shot of making the team this year. Freshman year I was considered a protégée; this year I’m the freak who fell asleep in the locker room. That’s CF— one minute I feel superhuman (or at least human), but the next minute I feel so tired I can barely run through my routines. Then we have today. I’m fairly certain I’m not going to survive long enough to compete for a spot on the competition roster. My head pounded as the sunlight hit my eyes. “Sara, I need you! ” Like magic, Sara was already pulling the blankets off my body. “I’m here Sean, I’m here, ” she said as she loaded my blankets into a laundry bag. “I think we need to get you to the hospital. ” “No, please. Just give me a few more days on the IV. ” “Sean, it’s been over a week. Your fever has only gotten worse. ” I began to cry, sobbing into my pillow. All I ever wanted was to feel normal in my own skin. Because being normal comes with happiness, right? I wanted to fall in love, I wanted to get married, maybe even have a family. I kicked my IV just enough to see my trophies: evidence of the alternate reality version of myself. There was a photo of me in freshman year, on the rings. Even with my long hair whipping all over my face, I nailed my gymnastics routine like a rock star. I was the youngest person to ever win an individual gold at the state level. I wiped tears from my eyes as Sara handed me a clean shirt. Who am I kidding? I’m going to die alone in a hospital bed. “Don’t cry. ” Sara kissed my cheek. “You know, with how light your eyes are, you look like an ice-zombie. ” “What? ” I instantly perked up. Sara always knew how to make me smile. “Once we get to the hospital, I want to braid your fairy-princess hair. ” I laughed. For the record, I do not have fairy-princess hair. I have surfer hair, long blonde waves that cascade down my back. Hair destined for a dive into the Pacific Ocean. Sometimes when I’m in the shower I’ll stand under the flow, letting the water wash over my face. In my mind I’m in California, emerging from beneath the waves. I look nothing like Sara, my remarkable sister. I like to call her my twin since we’re the same age—not that we have anything in common, beyond sharing a room. I’m six-foot tall, which doesn’t help much when your sport of choice is gymnastics. I have my meds to thank for that; for the first fourteen years of my life I was prescribed human growth hormones to give my sick body a fighting chance. While my adorable, amazing sister was a brilliant science nerd, destined to change the world. I was snapped back to reality by a coughing fit. I could feel the mucus trying to come out, but my lungs were seizing up. I reached for my inhaler. The medicine helped relax my lungs enough to take in air, but now the room was spinning. “Sara, I don’t think I can make it out of bed. ” Sara was already gone. She quickly returned with our mother, who lifted me out of bed and helped me to the door. “Sara, disconnect his IV, make note of how much is left in the bag, and then I need you to grab my keys and start the car. ” I kind of passed out just as we got going, but at least I was lying with my head in Sara’s lap. That was about as comfortable as I was going to get. She was cradling my head in her arms. Although small, my sister was always my hero. She could do it all: administer IVs; monitor my blood sugar; and even perform chest physiotherapy to loosen the mucus in my lungs. Mom was brave, too. She always had been, from the day she’d chosen to adopt an abandoned baby with CF. Then having to raise us on her own when Dad died on a disaster relief trip to the Philippines. I could feel Sara stroking my face. I looked up to see tears in her eyes. With fifteen years of caring for me, my illness affected her as much as it affected me. I tried to cheer her up. “So, are you going to braid my fairy-princess hair? ” She gave me a weak grin. “Let’s hold off on that until you get a bed. ” Less than an hour later, I was admitted to the ICU. I couldn’t stop coughing. The port on my side was reopened in an attempt to drain my lungs manually. I had to be put on oxygen and blood thinners to relieve the pressure in my chest. I’m told that the fever spiked into brain damage territory. My antibiotic levels were adjusted: different amounts, different combinations. The nurse brought in a blanket that appeared to be made of hundreds of cold packs fused together. On the third night in the ICU, the dreaded words “breathing tube” were mentioned. I hated breathing tubes. They were unbearably painful and made it impossible to speak. I grabbed Mom’s hand. “Please, I can fight this. You know I can. I just need you to believe in me. ” I wanted so badly to get out of bed. I wanted to get back to training, to feel the burn of strength in my muscles. To feel my body pushing itself towards greatness, not just to survive. Hell, freshman year I trained and competed with a fractured wrist and three bruised ribs after getting the living crap kicked out of me. That was how bad-ass I could be when CF wasn’t hijacking my body. Mom turned to the doctor. “What are the other options? ” The tall, elderly man looked confused. “I strongly recommend a breathing tube, just until we can get the fever stabilized. ” That was the easy answer for him; put the kid on a breathing tube and come back to him later. And I sure as fuck did not want to be tethered to a machine. The way I figured it, the fewer machines I was reliant on, the faster I was going to recover. I wanted to get back to training or I wanted to die. I had little use for the gray area in between. Mom shook her head vigorously. “No. Put him under sedation. It’ll give his body a chance to rest. ” “With all due respect, Mrs. Foster—” “You listen to me—that boy is more than numbers on a chart. ” “I know this is difficult—” “He’s my son! ” She squeezed my hand. Sara was already holding my other hand. “Sean’s on full oxygen and he’s still breathing on his own. I’m choosing to have faith in him. ” The doctor quietly left the room. Mother kissed my forehead. “I love you. And I’ll always believe in you. ” The next day, the fever went down to a better, yet still unsafe level. I suffered a seizure due to lack of oxygen to my brain, prompting the doc’s insistence on a breathing tube. That, or a tracheotomy. I was strong, but would not survive the ordeal unscarred. Mother looked to Sara. “Tracheotomy, ” Sara quickly answered. The doctor would be cutting a hole in my throat, inserting a tube that would attach to a ventilator and function as an alternative means of supplying oxygen to my weakened lungs. The process would be much more invasive and painful, but at least I would still be able to speak. By my eighth day in the hospital, I was too weak to remain conscious for more than few hours a day. My lungs were failing and if the infection spread to my heart, I could very well be dead in a few months. I stared at the ceiling, trying not to think about the ache in my throat or the pounding in my head. I seemed a little dead from the neck down. A soft snore made me look to Sara. She was slumped in the seat by my bed with a book resting on her lap. I couldn’t make out the title, but it looked science-y and intimidating. She’d been with me all week, having been given permission by her school to study at the hospital. It seemed to take minutes of effort to coordinate my arm muscles, but I managed to reach over and nudge her awake. “Go to school tomorrow, please. ” “Why? ” she whispered. “I want stay with you. I want to be by your side when you get out of this bed. That’s the way it’s always been! ” “Go to school, ” I repeated. I knew what she meant. Whenever I was hospitalized, she was always by my side. “It’s not worth it for you to stay. ” I didn’t dare look in her direction. She gripped my hand. “I have nothing to look forward to at school. You’re all I have. ” I sighed. Sadly, she was probably correct. Her vigilance in caring for me didn’t exactly do much for her social life. “Maybe a miracle will be waiting, ” I said as I yanked my hand away, a little ruder then I should have. “Or maybe you’ll die in your sleep. ” Sara took a deep breath, shook her head, and left the room. The next day, Sara didn’t show up at nine as usual, which was good— it meant she’d probably gone to school. Playing hooky was like sacrilege to her. Some part of me saw this as God throwing me a life line. A little after five she scampered in, taking a seat on the plastic chair by my bed. “Sean, are you awake? ” “Is that my miracle? ” I asked motioning my head to the doorway, which framed a tall, supermodel-like silhouette. Sarah turned my room lights on for me. I squinted, but then couldn’t stop staring as the girl walked towards the bed. The stunningly beautiful Latina wore her hair in a pixie cut with bangs sweeping over her eyes. She lovingly caressed my hand. “Hello, Jenny-Q. ” Even with her new look, I would recognize her beauty anywhere. Up close I could see her caramel skin, high cheekbones, pouty lips and large brown eyes that sparkled with hints of gold. “Hey, Sean, ” she whispered. “Sorry, I’m so nervous. I didn’t even know if you’d remember me. I have no idea what to say. I know if my dad was here, he’d try to get us to pray, or some shit like that. ” “Remember you? You saved my life. I don’t know what I was thinking, that day. I should’ve run. ” “No shit, ” Sara muttered. She still hadn’t really forgiven me for talking back to Richie Cross like I was on some kind of suicide mission. “I knew what to expect, after my run-in with Lisa, ” I admitted, not meeting Sara’s eyes. “Richie wasn’t about to let me get away with screwing around with his girl. It had to be me coming on to her, because Lisa would never cheat on him, no. ” “Why I thought I’d get on better with that douchebag than Lisa had, I’ll never know. ” Jen rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe he called you an ass-cancer. ” “Yeah, well. I shouldn’t have told him I had cancer. It just seemed easier than explaining Cystic Fibrosis to a dumbfuck. ” Sarah folded her arms. “I get that, but you didn’t do yourself any favors with your comeback. ” She glared at Jen, who was giggling. I’d told Richie that I’d rather be an ass-cancer than the only black guy at White Creek with a micro-penis, and then came the beat-down. I remembered the ‘fight’ clear as day. I’d lifted my chin, daring Richie and his gang of dickwads to attack. In the moment, I honestly felt like I could take whatever they had to give, but the blows came too fast and too hard. I could hear people laughing, even cheering. My efforts to shield my face were proving pointless as my attackers dragged my body away from the lockers and started stomping my head. It was when I’d started to succumb to the pain that I heard screams and voices coming to my defense. One by one, the attackers stepped off, but before I could start to feel the relief, Richie grabbed me by the hair and blew cigarette smoke directly into my blood-covered face. It was Jenny-Q who’d rummaged in my bag and helped me with my inhaler, preventing a choking spiral that would’ve ended me in minutes. But it got her slapped hard. Through eyes which were rapidly swelling shut, I saw Richie hauling her down the hallway by her arm, railing at her about her lack of respect. “Yo! Earth to Sean! ” Sara said, shaking my arm. “Were you sleeping with your eyes open? ” “Sorry. ” I smiled at Jenny, still feeling guilty that I couldn’t do a damn thing about what Richie did to her after she’d defended me. “I never forgot your courage, Jenny-Q. Hell, I didn’t even get to thank you. Where did you go? ” She shrugged. “I took a little ‘hiatus’ from school. Anyway, like I told Sara, Jenny-Q was a slut with super-short shorts and over-processed ringlets. Now I’m just Jen. ” “I like the pixie cut, ” I told her. “New era, new image, right? ” “Yeah, that, and also I used so much hair product that I gave myself a scalp infection. ” Covering her embarrassment, she grabbed the bed controls and took it upon herself to move my body to an upright position. Her fingers brushed a lock of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I just want to see those beautiful eyes. ” I held her gaze for a long moment, trying to figure out her body language. It seemed like she was being more than gentle—I felt a little like she was hitting on me. Sara glanced back from the muted TV. She’d been surfing the channels. “Jen knows all the cool hospital tricks, like how to get nonfamily into the ICU. ” I grinned. “How come? ” “Her brother died of cancer. ” I flinched at my sister’s total lack of tact and looked into Jen’s beautiful eyes. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. ” “Yeah, Cam died of liver cancer when he was eighteen, and I was eleven. Neither of my parents were viable donors. ” She looked at the ceiling as if looking to God. “I was conceived on the off-chance I could save him. Cam developed tumors in his liver when he was two years old. All my parents’ time and energy was put into giving him a little… longer. ” Sara blinked. “Wow, that’s kind of harsh. I know my mom loves Sean more than me, but—” “Sara, that’s not true, ” I snapped. I hoped she was being sarcastic, but wasn’t sure. Things had been a little ropey between her and Mom for a while. Jen raised her hand. “The point is, Sara, you love him too. It was the same for me and Cam. There’s a story he used to tell me about the day I was born. I was passed off to my grandma because my parents needed to check on Cam in the ICU. Grandma thought it was inappropriate for a new mother to be away from her baby, so she took it upon herself to bring me to the ICU and put me into Cam’s arms. He told me that in that moment he felt like a superhero because he had someone to watch over, someone to love. ” “Yeah, I’ll bet. ” I could only imagine what that felt like, to be suddenly given the chance to be someone’s hero. Part of me wondered, at what point in his short life Cam realized that Jen was born only to serve as spare parts. To me, that would be the most heartbreaking aspect. To know that not only were you destined to die, you couldn’t protect the one person you cared about most. Jen’s voice was breaking. “When my mom tried to take the baby away, Cam cried. He was the only person who ever loved me. The day he died, I wanted to die too. ” I cupped her face in my hands, looking into her eyes. “You’re too beautiful to cry. ” Sara giggled. “You two are so cute together, like something out of a magazine. ” Jen stuck out her tongue. “Teen Vogue or Hustler? ” “Vanity Fair, at least their gorgeous supermodels keep their clothes on. ” “I can roll with that, but I’ll never be a model. ” Sara rolled her eyes. “I don’t do false modesty. ” “No, really…” Jen lifted her shirt slightly, revealing a large scar on her otherwise perfect abs. “A chunk of my eight-year-old liver bought my brother a few more years. ” I stared. “Wow. That’s quite the war wound. ” “It’s a permanent reminder of how I failed him. ” “You didn’t fail him, ” Sara said. “Medical science failed him. That, and not enough people walking marathons while wearing colorful ribbons. ” Jen covered her mouth as she laughed. “You are so bad, Sara. ” I put my arm around Jen, pulling her close. “Can I touch your scar? ” “Yeah, I guess. ” I slid my hand over her abs, feeling the raised tissue. She released a soft sigh. Taking courage, I moved her hand towards my drainage port, but her hand recoiled. She smiled too brightly and pulled back, pulling her shirt down. “Anyway! I know how to hook up a gaming system to a crappy wall-mounted TV in Iowa, how to sneak a refill of ice chips from the unlocked faculty break room in Nebraska, how to smuggle in outside food in New Mexico, and—most importantly—how to do most of the nurse’s job. ” “Uh… good? ” “And pushing the little red button is a fifty-fifty shot at best, am I right? Nurse call button, my ass. ” I forced myself to laugh at Jen’s joke. It was so cool that she hated hospitals just as much as I did, but I was still stung from misreading her. She got up and headed for the door, all smiles, but seeming like she needed to get out quickly. I slumped in bed, really needing her to give me a second chance. “Hey, do you need to go already? ” Jen smiled. “Probably best if I do right now. I’ll be back. I promise. ” Chapter 2 Jen returned as promised, and for the next few weeks, I had the time of my life. Jen would accompany Sara to the hospital. We would all talk about poetry, philosophy, and why PC gaming was better than any console package the major companies could put out. They would get my homework and help me complete assignments as I slowly regained my strength. “Why do I need four years of math to graduate? ” I groaned. Geometry was a little better than algebra since it was the art of measuring shapes, as opposed to trying to find numbers that didn’t exist. “If I’m passing geometry, then it’s not that difficult. ” Jen walked me through each question, massaging my shoulders, while Sara worked on my English and history essays. “You have to read Romeo and Juliet, ” Sara said, tossing Jen a DVD of the late nineties punk version to put into her laptop. Jen smirked. “I cannot believe you own this movie. ” “It’s the better one, ” Sara pointed out. “Colorful costumes, special effects, and they still used the same script. “It’s frickin’ Shakespeare—they can’t change the script! ” I was out of the ICU, the infection completely cleared. I had my own room in the main pediatric unit, another hospital-survival trick Jen had mastered. She explained that getting the right room was a similar process to getting the best table at a restaurant; if you could convince the staff you wouldn’t be much trouble, you could earn yourself a heavy dose of privacy. Jen and Sara snuck in candy and fast food while Mom sat in a corner, working on her laptop. She would occasionally look up and see the three of us laughing. Whenever our eyes met, I could see her smiling. Most importantly, unlike in the ICU, visitors could stay overnight. Jen often texted her father in the evening: “Spending the night with Sean and his sister. Their mother will be present. ” I thought that was weirdly formal, but it wasn’t for me to say. Jen cuddled next to me in my bed (which was a strict hospital no-no), but Sara was a good human alert system. She was a light sleeper. If Sara detected movement towards our room from any approaching nurse, she’d spring out of her seat, waking both me and Jen. On more than one occasion I would awake alone, seeing Jen and Sara asleep on chairs. There was no way Jen was never caught. So, I assumed my two best friends were just that expertly skilled at talking their way out of incriminating situations. It took me a while to realize that Jen never got any reply from her father. Ever. “I guess I should just take that to mean, ‘whatever, get home eventually, ’ right? ” Jen said as she rested her elbows on the bed railing. “Maybe your texts aren’t going through? ” “You don’t know my father. ” “Ok then, let’s get to know our dads. I’ll start. My dad worked for the Red Cross. ” “Worked? Did he retire? ” “He passed away when Sean and I were three, ” Sara answered. “We mostly know him through photos and stories. I wish I had more memories of him. So, what does your dad do for a living? ” “Both my parents are in real estate. ” I noticed that occasional, somber expression taking root once again. “Always? Since the dawn of time? ” Sara joked. Before that, my father was in the military. ” “What did he do in the military? ” “I don’t know—the usual soldier stuff. ” Clearly, there was more to the story. Was he disabled? I knew that wasn’t any of my business, but she was pretty open about her brother’s death. I grabbed her phone and hit call. Jen grabbed it back and smacked me in the face. “Ow! ” I touched my sore eye. “Was that necessary? ” “Be grateful you’re already in the hospital. ” “Are you seriously telling me I can’t call your dad? ” Jen fiddled with her screen and then pulled up a picture. “This is my father, Master Sergeant Diego Miguel Quinto. ” Sara made her way over. “I want to see! ” Jen’s father was a muscular man with a tattooed chest. His dark eyes looked directly at the camera with an intimidating gaze. I blinked. “Woah. He’s… he’s not very… small. ” Sara laughed. “He’s not that scary. He’s actually kind of hot, like Benjamin Bratt—muy caliente. ” Jen scrubbed her face like she was trying to soap the image from her eyes. “That’s my dad you’re talking about. Oh, by the way, caliente means spicy, so unless you want to eat him—” “What if I do? ” Jen shook her head as she put her phone away. “You two are a bunch of children. ” I had to agree with Sara; the guy was good-looking, clearly the source of Jen’s good genes. She had his dark eyes, slender nose, and high cheekbones. They even had similar lips. Part of me wanted to meet the guy just to see if he had Jen’s smile. The days went by quickly with my two best friends by my side. I was healthier than I’d been for a long time. The doctor even authorized the removal of my neck trach. When I wasn’t trying to catch up with work from class, I enjoyed a little downtime with Jen while Sara caught a few zees on the mattress in the corner of the room. Jen and I liked watching movies on her phone. One evening, we were following a television show where contestants had to make meals out of a random section of items, like hot dogs with caviar and cotton candy. Though my cystic fibrosis usually did a number on my appetite, I watched the chefs at work, marinating and grilling. One chef even wrapped his cut of meat in puff pastry. I was becoming genuinely hungry. On another preparation table, the contestants were forced to cook bison with quinoa, saffron cookies, and guava. “Sean, if you stop drooling on my shoulder, I’ll get you a candy bar. ” “I want to try bison someday. I think it would be like beef but better. ” “Same here, except that I hate the idea of death; I hate giant roasted animals—” “What, like blue whales? Mammoths? ” Jen rolled her eyes. “No, I mean whole chicken, whole fish, or whole anything-that-looks-like-a-corpse. I love how dead cow is called beef, and the dead baby cow is called veal. Helps us humans forget they were ever living creatures, or that they’d ever experienced thought or emotion. ” “Fish is fish and chicken is chicken, ” I pointed out. “And thanks to you, I’ll have to fall asleep contemplating the deep thoughts of farm animals. ” “Sorry, not sorry. ” “I really want to try bison. How are you with steaks? ” Jen smiled. “Okay-ish. I guess I’ll take a vow to eat bison with you someday. ” She ran her fingers through my hair. Jen’s face was already so close to mine. She turned and our lips touched, once then twice. I closed my eyes. I had kissed a lot of girls, but Jen was different. Her touch was pure love. “Open your eyes, Sean, ” Jen whispered, caressing my face. “I want to see those beautiful eyes. ” I obliged, cupping her face as our lips met for one long sexy kiss. Jen pulled herself onto my lap. She slipped her hands down my shoulders as we made out in my bed. Her abs tightened as I caressed her waist. My hands looked huge on her body. Suddenly, Jen grabbed my wrist so hard I jumped. “Did I do something wrong? ” “No, no but…” She started to cry. “I can’t do this yet. I’m so sorry. ” Not knowing what to say, I pulled her down to lie on the bed with me, her body resting on mine as she sobbed into my shoulder. “There’s something I have to tell you. ” “About Richie Cross? ” I asked. Jen nodded, but didn’t say anything more. I cleared my throat. “You don’t have to explain anything if you don’t want. ” “I… I do. I need to. ” I gripped her hand, and then still for what seemed like an age while she described how the guy had made her life a living hell. By the time Jen was done talking, she was hoarse and I was struck dumb—dumb enough to manage little more than a vague wave when she hopped off the bed and said she was going to get a drink. Sara went with her, trailing behind like she didn’t want to leave Jen alone, but didn’t want to crowd her, either. She’d woken up while Jen was crying and heard everything. The whole story made me feel sick to the gut, even sicker than the cheaper-than-shit jello in the tiny pot by my bedside. She’d taken a risk sticking up for me on the day that Richie and his crew tried to beat the last living daylights out of me, and the risk had cost her dearly. I had no idea what I’d done to earn her trust. I didn’t even know what to feel: relief that she didn’t blame me for Richie’s treatment of her after the day she’d stopped him from beating me, or guilt for my part in making the asshole turn on her the way he did. She hadn’t dumped him. That wasn’t an option; she was scared. Her association with Richie had driven away pretty much anyone at school who might rescue her from him. Nobody wanted to experience his rage after the example he’d made of me. She’d played meek-little-mouse to keep him happy until the inevitable escalation occurred; he sexually assaulted her and dumped her off on her parents’ lawn. I closed my eyes, as if that would erase the mental image of her being pitched out of a car, unconscious. It didn’t work. Not even fantasizing about hiring a hit man to beat eighteen shades of crap out of Richie made me feel any better. “Sorry to disturb you, honey. ” The soft voice made me jump. A blood pressure cuff started tightening around my bicep. I looked up to see the night-shift nurse giving me one of her pitying smiles. I quirked one back at her and pretended to try to go back to sleep, just grateful she didn’t ask why I was upset. After a few moments, her footsteps retreated. I clenched my fists under the blankets. Following the assault, Jen’s father had tried to do what I wanted to do so badly—smack Richie in the face. He’d confronted the asshole, taking him down with a punch and then busting Richie’s car up a little, which simply led to Richie’s parents filing counter-charges for assault on their son. Telling me about her father’s response to the situation, Jen had been so venomous about his actions that I was almost a little scared at her anger towards him. I couldn’t blame her for being mad that he’d nearly undermined the investigation into Richie’s assault on her; she needed those charges to stick. If her life was ever going to be the same again, he had to be identified as the guilty party and removed from school. In the end, it was Richie who shot himself in the foot. Confident that the investigation into him had gotten nowhere, he posted the video of them having “sex. ” When that video hit social media, I was still out of school, recovering from Richie’s beating, so I never got to see it. Thankfully, not too many other people did either, because he was reported by another member of his supposedly closed group and the film was taken down and saved for evidence within a couple of hours of being posted. The time stamp on the video matched up with Jen’s account of the assault, confirming his guilt beyond a shadow of a doubt, but no charges were ever pressed. Jen’s mother had accepted a six-figure hush payment from Nathan Cross while Diego was away on business. Fast, loud feet stamped across the tile floor in my room, startling me. The girls were back from the cafeteria and it looked like they’d been fighting. “What’s up? ” I croaked. Sara looked indignant and shocked at the same time. “I somehow made her mad. ” “Somehow? ” My mouth went dry watching the two of them getting louder and louder. I swallowed to get spit back in my mouth. “Guys—” “I just asked Jen why she was so pissed at her dad when it was her mother who accepted the payoff. ” “This isn’t rocket science, Sara. He let my mom take a payout in exchange for Richie’s full exoneration. How did that help me? My folks got the money, but I got to remain the school slut. And you know what’s just as bad? Richie still has a clean record. He could go to college and do this to another girl, and get off—again. ” “You can’t do anything about that—” “But my parents could’ve done something! Dad should’ve made Mom give the money back. ” “Well… you did say your mom was kinda forceful. ” Jen slammed her coke can on my bedside table. “That is so not the point! He wasn’t even around to stop this whole pay-off shit from happening. I was in the hospital for a whole week after what Richie did, but Dad only visited that first night when I woke up. Where was he after that? On some ‘urgent’ business trip, that’s where. ” “Well, maybe he urgently needed to tell his senior people why he needed time off work, ” Sara pressed. “Some employers are jerks. You have to shove police reports in their faces to make them understand there’s a crisis. ” “He’s in real estate, he works for himself! ” “What about his clients? He has to keep the business going, right? ” “Oh, just… don’t! ” Jen paced the room, her fists clenched. For a horrible second, it looked like she was going to storm out and not come back. As much as I loved Sara, sometimes she didn’t know when to quit playing Devil’s advocate. I cleared my throat and fixed Sara with the calmest gaze I could manage. “It’s her situation, Sis. She knows more about it than we do. ” Sara shifted from foot to foot. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just… I know what it’s like to not be able to help someone as much as I want to, and I figured he probably felt the same way when trying to deal with wealthy shitbags like the Cross family. ” Jen caught her anxious glance, and released a long breath. She then made one of those exaggerated “om” gestures with her hands. “I’m really sorry, ” Sara insisted. “I was just trying to help you see that maybe your dad didn’t want to neglect you. ” “All right, ” Jen finally said. “I wasn’t trying to rip you a new one, but I need to ask you a favor. Just… remember that I’ve seen every side of my father. You’ve never even met him. ” “Sure. ” Sara looked contrite. “I get it. ” As the girls sat down together, sharing cautious smiles, I swear my blood pressure came down about twenty points. I grinned at Jen. “It’s not Sara’s fault she likes Diego so much. She’s depraved and lusts for anyone who looks like Benjamin Bratt. ” Sarah slugged me in the arm. Jen finally cracked a smile. “If anything, he looks like Al Pacino in Scarface—if Scarface were a disabled vet who worked out nearly every day. ” “Your father is disabled? ” I asked. He certainly didn’t appear disabled. But then again neither did I. Especially on my good days. “A war injury, ” she explained. “He gets really bad muscle spasms in his back. ” Sara looked to Jen. “But he’s able to work out? In that picture he looks ripped. ” “The more he maintains his strength, the less his body deteriorates. ” I held Jen in my arms. “Jen, I love you. I still want to come to your house and meet him for myself. ” Jen shook her head. “It’s not my dad I’m worried about. He knows how to turn on the charm when he has to. It’s my mom. She’s… she hates anything with a dick. ” “As the only person in this room with a dick, I’m insisting you explain that statement. ” “She hates my dad, that much is certain. And although she hated Richie, she was more than happy to sit back and watch things go wrong, just so she could call me a disappointment. And then there’s your disability. ” “Your mother hates disabled people? ” I asked. “After my brother died, she just lost it. She’s in mourning every moment of the day. I can just see her taking one look at you and feeling threatened by your looks, your talent—all despite your illness. She’s going to try to knock you down just to prove that she can, and I don’t want to witness that. ” “I’ve been knocked down plenty of times. ” Jen looked up at me. “If you guys want to push into my private life—” “I’m not doing that. ” “Not taking ‘no’ for an answer is pushing, Sean. ” Jen huffed a big breath and looked back at me. “If you want me to let you in, then you let me in. ” I frowned. “I have been. ” “What did Lisa Anders do to you? ” I felt a shiver down my spine. “You know what she did to me, the whole school does. ” “Yours is the only side of the story I haven’t heard. ” part 2:.

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