it was a relief in a
way. She just let go, letting the pain wash over her. The pile of
soft toys by her side offered no comfort, their presence suddenly
seeming childish. As much as her parents kept on saying how much they
loved her, she got the feeling all her mother really cared about was
having grandchildren.

"So what did you think of him?" asked Rebecca as she sat on her bed,
her back against the wall.

"Who?" asked Faye. She made an effort to stop gawking at her best
friend's perfectly curled tresses as she snapped out of her daydream.

"_James_," said Rebecca, slightly jerking her head forward to show her
frustration.

"Oh." Faye took the silver disc out of her pocket and handed it to
her. "Thanks."

"You're not getting out of the question _that_ easily!" Rebecca took
the disc and put it on a stack on the shelf next to the bed.

"I dunno." Faye shrugged. "He's OK, I guess."

"Just _OK_?" asked Rebecca in disbelief.

"It's not like I wanna have his babies or anything," said Faye.

"Geez, you don't like Toby, you don't like James, who _do_ you like?"
Rebecca scrunched her face up for a split second.

"I like you," pointed out Faye.

"Yeah, but not _like_ like. Not like you like boys."

Faye made an effort to look away from Rebecca's soft cheeks and her
perfect lips. "What's meant to be so good about boys, anyway?"

"They have their moments," said Rebecca. "Some of them do, anyway.
Maybe not the ones in _our_ class, but once they're a bit older, maybe."

"Sounds like a long wait." Faye kept her gaze on the floor.

"They just take a few more years to grow up, is all. Give them a
while, you'll see. Besides, if you didn't like boys, who _would_ you
like?"

"Faye!" called Rebecca's mother from downstairs. "Your mother's here!"

"I'd better go." Faye stood up. "Thanks for the Fryer episode."

"That's OK." Rebecca looked at her the same way she looked at
caterpillars and butterflies, her eyes focused with well meaning
curiosity. For a second, Faye forgot to worry about the choice she had
to make and about deciding how much she could tell Rebecca and just let
herself get lost in her smile.

Faye stared up at her familiar posters of female rock stars as she lay
down on her bed in deep thought.

On the one hand, she didn't want to die. She figured the person who'd
recover from the brain surgery, however nice he might be and however
happy he might become, simply wouldn't be he