Wake Up Calls.

Chapter One.

We were still waiting. We were still in the same chairs in the same positions in the same room that we had been all morning. We'd watched people walk in and out of the office, we watched them cry and smile. We saw a lot in the time we've been here.

Time meaning that we'd been waiting there for the past hour, and time was slowing down with each minute that passed. We had only come for the doctor to check on a few bruises that my dad was worried about. I was famous, and with these bruises that wouldn't fade there was obviously something wrong. I thought I broke something. I'd gotten them from being me – bumping into a kitchen counter – so it couldn't be that serious, right? It wasn't a big deal, hell, I barely noticed the bruise anymore.

Hearing the doctor say, "We're just gonna run a few tests," made it seem like a pretty big deal, though. It made it seem like something was wrong. Something that I couldn't fix in a few weeks with some exercises. Something major.

No one asked if anything had changed lately. In fact, the new habits didn't even cross my mind until my doctor himself asked. I didn't think about how my appetite had changed or how I'd been falling down a lot more lately. To me, it was just another fall. Just another day where I wasn't hungry. It wasn't a big deal.

"Miley Cyrus," the doctor came back into the room, a clipboard in his hands. His voice sounded too strained. I knew the results, already, we could have left then and I'd already know what was coming next. "There's no easy way to say this," he handed a pamphlet to my dad. "They were positive."

My dad looked down, shaking his head as I looked over his shoulder for the real confirmation.

Leukemia: Kids/Teens edition.

"I'm really sorry," he told us again. I wondered how many patients he had to give that line to in a week. I wonder how many were superstars. I would guess not a lot. I was probably the only one unlucky enough to end up like this in Hollywood. Who knew living a dream could be this hard?

"Will I die?" I whispered meekly. I bet that was the first question people asked when he used that line. Superstar or homeless, I bet that was the top first question. See, people aren't that different from each other.

"If you decide to go through chemo there's an eighty-seven percent chance you'll live," he said matter-of-factly. "Then, there's the nine percent chance of it coming back. Only four percent of death."

I nodded, not really able to say anything. I couldn't. There was nothing to say about statistics like that.

"Will it hurt?"

"No, but it won't be easy. You'll be scared and unsure, then after you'll feel sick. You'll throw up, you won't be that hungry, you'll get aches. I won't lie to you, you might want to slow down a little. With your lifestyle it'll be even harder."

My lifestyle. I would guess that meant being famous. Then, I would guess that was big hint that going on a fifty-nine date tour was probably not the best idea at a time like this. Oh well.

"I'll be fine," I informed him. This wasn't going to change my life. I'd fight the cancer and let it be a part of my past. Simple as that.

I looked at my dad for a second when a new question occurred. The most important question at the moment.

I felt the top of my head, running my fingers through the laces of hair. "Will I become bald?"

"Rare cases don't lose their hair, but I'm afraid to say that you most likely will."

That's what it took for the tears to come out. Suddenly, the fact of me going bald made it all seem realistic. I felt my dad's arm wrap around me and instantly turned into his chest. This would ruin everything that I've worked so hard for. It'd leave scars and I'd go bald. Everyone would know.

"Thanks," My dad dismissed him. "We'll talk later. Right now I think we both need to figure this all out."

"I understand," he nodded curtly, shaking my dad's hand before walking out.

I glanced up at my dad. "How am I supposed to tell this one to my friends?"

"I dunno," he murmured, running his hands through my curly locks of hair. The hair that I still had right now.

"I don't want them to pity me," I huffed. God, did I hate pity. Not as much as I hated cancer, but, oh, was it up there.

"I know, Sweetie."

"And I don't need their help, either. I can do this myself," I informed him.

My dad sighed. "I know, but they really should know."

I let a few more tears fall, my voice cracking. "I'm just so scared, Daddy. What am I gonna do, huh? What the hell is His plan, because I really don't see it now. I think he's trying to tear me down."

"No one said you need to do this alone." He wrapped his hands around me. "And I think there's a reason why God keeps picking you. You're the only one strong enough to do all this."

I knew I didn't need to do it alone, but that didn't make this any easier. It didn't make my questions go away. Why me? How was I supposed to do this 'Disney' tour with Selena, Demi, and the Jonas' if I had to go to chemo? Why did God need to pick me? Why did he need to pick right before tour? His timing really did suck.

Well, we'd definitely need to work on bus arrangements, because the six of us couldn't share a bus anymore. I could deal with hiding it from a few people, but with five other people on the bus at least one of them were bound to find out why I would be puking and disappearing and shedding hair. And if we all shared a bus, once one found out everyone else would too. It's like a tour bus rule.

"Maybe we should cancel it," my dad suggested.

I shook my head. That wasn't doable. I wouldn't be doing that. Not to my fans, not to me.

"Well, we can resch-"

"I'm doing the tour, Dad," I told him softly. If there was one thing left in my life, it was doing that tour. It would cause drama, and Selena and I would need to pretend to like each other for two months instead of two hours, but I would die from cancer before I didn't do this tour.

"Alright," he gave in, focusing on the road.

Almost home?

I bit my lip at the text from Brandi. They were all waiting for us to get back to the house to hear the news. They were all praying it was good. I wasn't going to tell them through a text message I might die.

Yeah.

"We're gonna have to tell Disney," I told my dad as if he didn't already think of that, he thought of everything.

"You're gonna be the once who convinces them you're still up for tour."

"They'll listen," I mentioned nonchalantly. "They always do."

"Maybe they'll lay their foot down this time."

I snorted as he pulled into the driveway. "Right."

"You can't always get your way."

"I can with Disney," I told him with finality. And that was that.

"Ready to tell Brandi?"

"Ready to tell Mom?" I shot back.

He let out a breath. "We'll tell them together, alright?"

"Think Noah will be mad that I ruined her day with you... Again?" I bit my lip.

He shrugged. "I think Noah will need to understand."

"Sometimes I don't think she ever will," I shut my eyes, leaning against the seat. "I don't mean to take up all the spotlight in her world. I wish she knew that."

My dad got out of the car as I did the same. He came over giving me a hug. "She'll realize that soon. Right now she's just too young to see things rationally."

"I hope it's not too late when she does."

My dad held my head to his chest and I could tell he was trying to stop me from seeing him cry. I wanted to see the tears, though. I wanted to know that I wasn't alone. I needed someone to remind me that it was okay to cry.

"Can we go inside?"

My dad nodded, leading us to the door and opening it, letting me walk in first. I slid off my flip-flops, messing with the hem of my old cheer t-shirt.

"We're home!"

It took about five seconds for everyone to get into the room after my dad's call. They were all hopeful until they saw us. Then it was like part of them died. The answer was evident from the tears in our eyes. I didn't want to upset them, but with my family it seemed like I had a way of bringing bad news through the front door.

"What is it?" Braison asked. He left it vague, but we all knew what he meant. What did I end up getting diagnosed with? They all wanted to know what I would be getting treated for. I could practically hear everyone holding their breath.

My dad bit his lip. He didn't want to say it. Neither did I, but I had a lot more practice saying things I didn't want to. For example, that I loved Selena. Or maybe that I didn't let haters get to me anymore. Or enjoying the paparazzi. That was always pleasant.

"Leukemia," I answered for them, holding it together.

Maybe I was shell-shocked. Shouldn't I be crying still? Shouldn't I be devastated? Because I wasn't. I didn't feel anything. I felt numb.

Brandi shook her head in disappointment before coming over and giving me a hug.

"I'm fine," I told her reassuringly, shaking myself out of her embrace. I wasn't broken. I was still myself. I wasn't freaking out over this and they shouldn't either.

"Are you still going on tour?" Trace asked.

"Absolutely no-"

"Of course," I cut my mom off.

Her head snapped over to me in surprise and I knew she was getting ready to try and talk me out of it. It wouldn't work, though. Her speeches never did work on me. Then again, not many people's did. "Miley-"

"I'm losing everything right now, Mom," I pointed our. "I'm not losing performing too. I'm not backing out from the one thing that I still have that makes me happy."

"But your health-"

"I'll be fine. I'll get chemo on the road, okay? We can plan it on the days I have off."

"Someone will need to come with you, then. I'm not letting you go alone, not anymore. I understand that you're almost eighteen now, but-"

"Come. I want someone there. You can, Brandi can, I don't care. Come if you want, but I'm touring either way," I finished, going up to my room alone, trying to make it crystal clear that I didn't want to talk to anyone right now with my body language. I plopped down on my bed, staring at my ceiling and trying to figure out what I was going to do.

So I was being a little bitchy to my family. Kill me.

I just found out I had fucking cancer, for Christ's sake, I think bitchy is excusable...

At least for today it is.

POSSIBLE new story. Not sure yet. What do you think?

Sorry the first chapter was so short. I always have been bad with introductions, I guess. hahaha.

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