Shadu: Hey everybody. Sorry for the lack of updates. My computer crashed. I can't get to my other stories and therefore can't type them. But I've got a new story. Think of it as a celebration of my computer's working status, and the fact that we upgraded from Windows ME to XP. Enjoy.

Ch. 1

"Mr. Wheeler!" Ms. Graison's shrill voice racked into Joey's sound sleep.

Joey's blonde head snapped up, suddenly aware of his surroundings. Inwardly, he groaned. Of all the classes he could sleep in, he had sleep in Ms. Graison's. She was the worst to sleep in. She hated sleepers, like Joey. Still, he couldn't escape the fact that he had, so now he had to pay the price.

"Now that you're awake, would you please go up to the board?" Ms. Graison snapped.

Joey slowly rose to his feet and went to the board, grumbling about something the whole way to the board. Picking up a black marker, he took off the cap and turned towards Ms. Graison, waiting for instructions.

"Please write down what I say as I say it," Ms. Graison instructed in a low growl.

And then she began her discussion over the Civil War. Joey hated this. He hated Ms. Graison's tasks for sleepers, like him. He could barely keep up, and the fact that he was falling behind aggravated him. And, on top of that, this class was boring. Who wanted to learn about some stupid war that happened in the past anyways? What was the point?

The second board on the wall was almost half full of Joey's small, yet sloppy handwriting when he felt his chest tighten. His breath shortened. He dropped the marker to brace himself on the board, gasping desperately for air as he clutched his chest. His breaths came in short labored gasps and he could feel his pulse quicken as a drop of sweat trickled down his face. His knees shook as he tried to stay standing. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was over, leaving Joey weak. He collapsed onto the floor, panting for breath as Ms. Graison sped over to him in a flurry.

"Joey, are you alright?" she asked, her voice full of concern, as she put a comforting hand on Joey's damp back.

Joey had to hand it to Ms. Graison; she was a tough task master, but a true softie on the inside.

Joey started to respond in a feeble, scratchy voice, but choked, coughing in an attempt to clean his throat of the caught spit.

"Tristan, would you help Joey to the nurse?" Ms. Graison asked, looking up at the brown-haired teen.

Tristan nodded and stood solemnly as Joey tried weakly to protest. Tristan wouldn't take no for an answer and took Joey by the arms and hoisted him to his feet. After slinging Joey's arm over his neck, Tristan began to lead Joey out of the classroom.

Joey's legs were like jelly and barely helped him stand. He couldn't help leaning on Tristan, as much as he dislike it. And because Joey's legs were so weak and jelly-like, he kept slipping out of Tristan's grasp, forcing Tristan to keep pulling him back up.

"What happened man?" Tristan asked quietly as they proceed down the hallway.

"I dunno," Joey confessed. "But this isn't the first time it has happened. I've had quite a few of these, attacks, and each one is worse than the last."

"Why haven't you seen a doctor about it?" Tristan demanded.

"Think about it nimrod," Joey glared.

"Surely your dad would've helped you this time," Tristan murmured.

"He doesn't care about me and would rather have me dead," Joey responded grimly. "But that doesn't matter anymore."

"What do you mean?" Tristan pondered, turning a corner.

"Oh, don't you know?" Joey looked up at Tristan, who shook his head. "I guess I forgot to tell you. My mom went back to court with my dad for custody of me," Joey paused. "It sorta makes me feel like a toy or object or something," he confessed. "Anyways, my mom won, so I'm movin' in with her today."

"So, you're leaving?" Tristan gaped.

"No, my mom moved here so I didn't have to leave," Joey replied. "Besides, she's always liked it here," he added.

"What about your dad?" Tristan pressed.

"He's leavin' town, just liked he said he would when he was rid of me," Joey shrugged, showing utter indifference.

"Well then, your mom can help now," Tristan stated hopefully.

"No, she doesn't need to worry," Joey shot back sharply.

"But-" Tristan started.

"No," Joey cut him short.

That was it; their discussion on the subject was over. Joey's mind was made up and there was no point in continuing the argument. Once Joey's mind was set, there would be no chaning it, even if it was in his own personal interest.

They were almost to the nurse's office by the time Joey's legs began to work again. Barely, but at least they had some function. This helped him keep from slipping. And though Joey hated to admit it, even now, without Tristan's help, he would most certainly fall.

The nurse, Mrs. Dobbs, rose to meet them halfway as the two boys entered the room.

"Mr. Wheeler, what have you done now?" she asked, half teasing and half serious.

Joey opened his mouth to explain, but Tristan jumped in.

Before Joey could answer for himself, Tristan explained quickly, "He was writing on the board in class and just collapsed for no real reason."

Joey glared at Tristan, but Tristan wasn't fazed. He knew that if he hadn't stepped in, Joey wouldn't have told the truth. And the truth was aboslutely nessicary this time.

"Oh dear, well lay him down on the bed Tristan," Mrs. Dobbs instructed, pointing to the empty platic-covered bed.

With a nod, Tristan turned to help Joey onto the bed, but Joey shoved his pal off, saying that he didn't need any help. His actions proved otherwise. Joey only took a few shaky steps before his legs gave out and he tumbled towards the ground, barely managing to grab the edge of the bed before he hit. Joey heaved himself onto the bed, with Tristan and Mrs. Dobbs' help, and laid on his back, panting ever so slightly.

"Do you feel ill Joseph?" Mrs. Dobbs asked as she put a hand on Joey's forehead.

"No," Joey snappishly stated.

"You don't have a fever," Mrs. Dobbs mused. "Well, I suggest you stay here until you can walk. Until you are strong again."

Joey sighed, and looked at Mrs. Dobbs, saying, "As long as you don't call my mom."

And when Mrs. Dobbs assured him she wouldn't, he nodded and laid his head back, looking at the ceiling. He didn't want to stay. He didn't want to lie there, but he knew he had to. He knew he had no choice. Mrs. Dobbs would make him, one way or another.

"Well, I'll be going," Tristan stated unnesscarily as he waved and began to walk out of the office.

"Wait, before you go, would you please come into my office?" Mrs. Dobbs called. "I need to have a word with you."

Tristan glanced at Joey, who shrugged, and with his own shrug, Tristan followed Mrs. Dobbs into the separate office space that she used as he buisness area.

"Tristan, what happened to Joey?" Mrs. Dobbs asked as she walked behind her desk after closing the door.

"I don't know really," Tristan stated.

"Well, at least describe what happened," Mrs. Dobbs pressed.

"Well, he was doing fine, and then, he started acting weird, for no apparent reason," Tristan explained. "He was gripping his chest and it was almost like he couldn't breathe. And then, it was over, just like that, and he was on the ground panting as if he had just come out of P.E. That's when I was told to bring him to you. He couldn't even walk here on his own."

"Anything else?" Mrs. Dobbs prompted.

"No," Tristan shook his head.

"Okay, okay," Mrs. Dobbs nodded, contemplating. "Thank you Tristan, you may go," Mrs. Dobbs smiled a forced smile, releasing Tristan from her office.

Tristan nodded and left the office quietly, stopping by Joey before he went back to class.

"You know, it's sad when even the nurse knows your name," Tristan stated with a chuckle for converastion.

"Yeah, it is," Joey agreed with a small chuckled of his own.

Tristan paused, and then asked, "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," Joey nodded to assure Tristan.

"Well, alright, get better soon Joe," Tristan told Joey as Joey watched him leave.

Joey nodded, putting a hand on his chest to make sure his heart was still beating, to make sure he was still alive. He could feel his now calmed heart beat underneath his palm, signaling, confirming, he was still alive, but for how long?

Shadu: Hey! So, what do you think?

Hokage: I think it's good.

Shadu: I know you do, but I want to know what the readers think. Hold on guys because you're in for the long haul.

Hokage: Yeah, we've already written a good portion of it on notebook paper, and it's pretty darn long.

Shadu: I won't tell you how long, but I will tell you, it's the longest fan fiction we've ever written.

Hokage: So, please press the pretty button that says "Review" and review.

Shadu: Until the next chapter.