Chapter one:

a/n: John Green did an amazing job, and so I'm not claiming that this in any way resembles his awesome work. This is just a rewritten version, including scenes that I have imagined. I know that I will never even come close to the deeply emotional connecctions that people make with TFIOS, BUT I DO CLAIM TO LOVE THE BOOK A LOT. So, yeah. Now that that entire disclaimer is done, let's get on with it.

Disclaimer: See above.

Chapter One: Support group

Hazel POV

Sitting here at the early support group premeeting thing, listening to Patrick talk about how he lost both his nuts to cancer when he was young, and how he is now a social worker in an amazing church, looking at all of us young cancer survivors, I want to die of bordom. Not that I'd ever wanted to come here before, but today is especially torturous.

They need to fix the AC. This place feels like it's a hundred degrees. And it's humid. Very humid. Not the kind of weather that my lungs are experts in. Of course, having a rare lung cancer, is about as fun as having someone rip out your lungs, but you know. What can you really do about it?

The meeting is finally over, and we can actually go to support group. We meet upstairs, and the support group is downstairs. The premeeting is to help us feel like we are safe by listening to some old dude raddle on about having cancer as a kid, and having to fight. Stupid.

Even though the stairs ar steep, and otherwise not inviting, I don't use the elevator. That's a "last days" activity at support group. In other words, "when you're dying, you can take the elevator," and even though I am, I don't want the sympathetic looks of the other "Cancer survivors". Getting sympathetic looks is about as fun as losing your dignity in the most embarrassing way possible. It makes me feel like I lost whatever dignity I have left.

I snag a chocolate chip cookie from the table, but avoid the lemonade. Puking up the cookie is going to suck and puking up the lemonade is going to suck worse. So, yeah. After we eat the cookies and shit that's been set out, we gather in the "circle of trust", and introduce ourselves. It's the same bullshit every time. And the only reason I'm here is so my parents can feel like they've helped me through my depression crisis. When in truth there was no crisis to speak of.

Today, however, the routine is different. Oh sure, we still had the same shitty snacks, but there was a new guyin the circle of trust. By the way, how stupid of a name is the circle of trust? It's so lame, just like support group. Anyway, his eyes are trained on me as I stumble to a seat. Why the hell do I have to have the grace of a drunk ballerina? No, I'm serious.. When we finally all sit down, it's five o'clock, and time for the worst hour of my week to begin. When we've all listened to Patrick mourn his nutlessness, we all go around and introduce ourselves. "I'm Hazel. I'm sixteen. Thyroid originally, but now with a lovely set of tumors taking up permanent residence in my lungs. And I'm okay."

The only reason I didn't tell my parents to chill, was that it gave me some time to think about my impending doom. Being a grenade is not fun at all. And I know that one day soon, I will explode with the force of the atomic bomb that was dropped on hirashima. And the only even slightly redeeming part of support group is Isaac. He has some improbable eye cancer, and had one eye cut out of his head when he was a kid. And from what I gather when he actually shares with the group, is that a relapse has put his remaining eye in mortal danger. In other words, "I'm going to go blind, but am going to say it in a fancy way to help me cope." It's how we all do.

Then the hot guy introduces himself. "I'm Augustus Waters. Osteosarcoma. And I'm seventeen." Patrick looks at him. "How are you feeling Augustus?" Augustus smirks. "Oh, I'm grand. I'm on a roller coaster that only goes up." Ah, gallows humor. All cancer patients know how to use it. And a llot of us are pretty dam good at it too.

After support group, when I'm hauling myself and my oxygen tank toward the stairs, Augustus Waters appears. "What's your name?" "Uh, Hazel." "no, your full name." "Um, Hazel Grace Lancaster." "well, Hazel Grace…" Isaac appears. "Hold on a minute." Augustus says to me. He steps over to Isaac. "That was actually worse than you made it out to be." Isaac laughs. "Told you it was depressing." "Why do you bother with it?" Isaac shrugs. "Kind of helps I guess."

Then leaning in, so he thinks I can't hear, "Is hse a regular?" Isaac nods. "Suffering from terminal cancer. She's a strange one, but she's really nice." Just then my phone buzzes. I fish it out of my pocket, and see a text from my mom. "hi. Took Allie out to practice for her permit. Meet you in thirty minutes, okay? I shrug, And type back, sure thing. I'll wait."

I know Mom feels guilty that my younger sister's permit practices happen to be scheduled for support group Wednesday, and sometimes they get lost. But she shouldn't. My sister deserves a better life than my cancer gives her. Hours in ICUs, and other parts of hospitals, and the knowledge that sometime soon, she'll be the only Lancaster kid to speak of. She's brave, my sister. But she'd deny it. She's so quiet, it's not really good for her.

I sigh and shove my phone into my back pocket. Maybe Mom and Allie will be here early. But I highly doubt it. Allie is a year younger, but she seems so much different than me. So much more alive. I sometimes wish I could be my little sister. Life would be so much easier. Allie had once told me that she'd do anything for me, except be me. That just goes to show just how awesome my sister is. I start to walk toward the double doors that lead to the stairs, but feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn, and see Augustus Waters watching me. "are you okay?" I nod, and say, "Yeah." It's just my kind of lies, the ones that save people from worrying about me.

a/n: So, how was it? I hope it was enjoyable. See ya!

Emmabeth.