A/N: Thank you again for reading! This chapter is a little less happy than the last one, but it won't last- the next chapters will be happier! Sorry for the delay, I'll try to get chapters up more quickly in the future!

As November progressed, the days too grew progressively colder. It became necessary to wear big jackets, scarves, hats and gloves every day. The rain fell and the wind blew bitterly, prompting many choruses of "November Rain" from the various staff members. It was on a particularly rainy Thursday that the next chapter of our story starts to unfold.

The members of the fifth grade class at Third Street school all filed in, removing jackets and other outdoor clothing, shaking umbrellas to rid them of excess water. They all sat in their designated seats, but one seat was left empty.

"Hey, Teej," Gus leant forwards in his chair to tap T.J., Detwiler, who was sat in the seat in front, "Where's Spinelli today?" T.J. swivelled to look at the empty seat on his right.

"I don't know Gus. I just assumed she was here," he turned to look at the other members of his friendship group, "Do any of you guys know where Spinelli is?"

"Well, class hasn't started yet Teej," Vince reasoned, "She may just be running late, this is rotten weather after all. She may have been waiting for the rain to stop."

"Then she's gonna be waiting a long time.." T.J. hypothesised, as he turned back to face the front in time to watch their teacher Mrs. Finster walk in.

"Okay class, today we're starting with a math pop quiz. Randall, hand out these papers," she handed a pile of papers to her faithful stooge Randall Weems which he delightedly dropped on each pupils desk, somewhat enjoying the look of disappointment each child was wearing. Each child pulled out a pencil, grumbling slightly, cursing their bad luck at the day in general.

Vince looked down at his question paper and sighed inwardly. He couldn't even do the first question, so what were the chances that he could do any of the others? He flipped the paper over casually, but was greeted with more mathematical nonsense that he knew he couldn't solve, so he gave up. He rested his head on his arms, and looked to his right. Next to him sat Ashley Q, furiously scribbling away on her own pop quiz. Clearly she had been paying attention in math class, not staring constantly and the blonde-headed beauty sat in front of her as he, Vince, had. Ashley A. They had hardly spoken since the Guy Fawkes Party, but Vince thought he had caught Ashley A watching him when she thought nobody else was watching. All of this was confusing. Did he like Ashley A? Yes. He was now pretty sure that he did. This was an all consuming crush. Whenever T.J. cracked a joke in class, he would glance over to see if Ashley A was laughing. If Mrs. Finster announced a nasty assignment or test coming up, he would look over at Ashley A, wondering what she thought of it. He couldn't believe how much time he spent looking at her these days.

His attention was drawn from Ashley A, however, as another Ashley slid into the room, her eyes were watery, she had deep bags under her eyes, and looked as if she hadn't slept. This must be serious- Spinelli NEVER cried. Vince sat up and watched as Mrs. Finster noticed the late arrival.

"Spinelli! What time do you call this?" she barked, eyeing Spinelli up and down, but her facial expression softened when her eyes reached Spinelli's face. Spinelli was a tough kid, the kind that didn't cry for nothing, so something major must be wrong, "Are you alright, Spinelli?" She asked, changing tack. Everybody in the class was now watching Spinelli as she took her seat, promptly burying her head in her arms, adopting a similar position to the one Vince himself had only recently vacated. Her shoulders shuddered, yet she said nothing.

Ashley A was the first to move. She rooted around in her bag, until she found what she was looking for. She produced a small pack of tissues, and leant across the aisle to press them into Spinelli's one visible hand.

"Spinelli?" Ashley A asked tentatively, "Spinelli, what's wrong?" then, perhaps the most unexpected thing, Ashley A slid out of her seat and wrapped her left arm around Spinelli. To continue this trend of unusual behaviour, Spinelli gave in at Ashley A's kindness, and rested her head on Ashley A's shoulder, wrapped her arms around her, and started howling out loud.

"It's my grandpops!" she wailed, her words barely discernable between sobs, "He's really sick," more tears poured down her face. There were murmurs around the room, condolences whispered barely loud enough to be heard, "they found out that he has lung cancer." More tears streamed down her cheeks, her shoulders shuddering, as Ashley A held her tight, rocking her slightly. T.J. leapt out of his seat to take Spinelli's other side, the effect being that Spinelli was sandwiched between T.J. and Ashley A, both of whom were hugging her hard.

"I am, like, so sorry Spinelli," Ashley A always reverted back to her over-use of the word 'like' when she was uncomfortable, "I know we, like, don't get along very well, but I want you to know that I really hope that your grandpops makes a full recovery, and that you will, like, be alright," There was fervent nodding up and down the room as people agreed.

"But he won't be, Ashley," Spinelli cried, furious at herself for being so upset in front of everybody, especially the Ashleys, "his cancer is terminal. They say he probably only has a few days." Then she absolutely broke down, sadness tugging at her heart. Her eyes were burning and she couldn't see. She had spent the last eight hours crying. She hadn't wanted to go to school, but her parents had insisted it would be best for her to throw herself into her ordinary daily activities, but how could she concentrate when her grandpops was dying? She somewhat suspected that the real reason she had been banished from the hospital was that her dad wouldn't be able to hold his tears in any longer, and her parents didn't want her to see them crying. Her chest felt tight, constricted, as the tears continued to fall. She was vaguely aware of Ashley A, T.J., and somebody else all enveloping her in a massive hug. She didn't always see eye-to-eye with the Ashleys, but Ashley A was being lovely right now.

"Oh Spinelli..." T.J. sighed unhappily. He remembered this feeling. Two years ago, his great aunt, of whom he had been very fond, had passed away after a prolonged illness, that he believed was cancer of some sort. He remembered the heart clenching feeling, the negative thoughts, and the irrepressible feeling of loss, "Let it all out, we're all here for you, you know."

"Spinelli," Mrs. Finster spoke in a soft tone that nobody had heard her use before, "If you wish to be excused for the day to gather your thoughts, I will completely understand, and write you a pass." Still sobbing, Spinelli replied,

"Thank you, Mrs. Finster, but can I take somebody with me please?" she knew she was pushing her luck slightly, but she had a special bond with Muriel Finster, and she hoped that this would pay off now. Mrs. Finster appeared to be thinking over this proposition, but the sight of her secret favourite student's face covered in tears answer the question for her.

"Sure thing, Spinelli, you want a pass for T.J. too?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Finster." She replied, but the end of her speech was broken by sobs.

"Give my condolences to ma and pa from me please," Mrs. Finster said in a solemn tone as she passed the notes to T.J. As Spinelli walked to the front of the class, many of her classmates got up to pat her back, or squeeze her hand, and offer her condolences. Although Spinelli knew this was a kind gesture, she didn't feel at all comforted by it. Saying that the cancer was terminal out loud, plus people offering condolences just made the whole situation seem more real.

T.J. kept his right arm wrapped around Spinelli's shoulders as they signed out at the office near the main entrance to the school. They walked in the vague direction of both T.J. and Spinelli's houses, Spinelli growing calmer all the way, calm enough to ask in unbroken English,

"Teej, where are we going?" she looked at him. She had rarely seen him looking so serious. His mouth was a thin line, and if she didn't know better, she would think his eyes looked watery too, as if he was fighting back tears.

"I thought we could go over to my house and talk. My mom will be there, but she'll understand. She lost an aunt a couple of years back.." he trailed off. His thoughts were with Aunt Lucy again.

"Yeah, I remember Teej," Spinelli said, guilt fighting its way into her conscience. "I'm so sorry for bringing this up again, I know you were really close to your great aunt!" Spinelli started crying again.

"Don't be silly, Spinelli, you're upset and so I want to help the best way I can, even if it does mean thinking about," he swallowed loudly, "Aunt Lucy."

They walked without talk the rest of the way, the silence only broken by gentle sobs from Spinelli, and loud sniffs from T.J.

They reached T.J.'s house and T.J. knocked on the door. His mom answered, holding a bowl and a towel, which she was obviously drying. She dropped the bowl in shock when she saw the crying pair on her doorstep.

"T.J.! Spinelli! Whatever is the matter?" She threw the towel onto the floor behind her, and enveloped them both in a hug. To Spinelli, T.J.'s mom represented everything a mom should. She was lovely, a great cook, always smelt vaguely of a delicious concoction of hers, and she never disclosed any of T.J.'s secrets to his friends. She felt instantly calmer as Mrs. Detwiler led the sorry pair into the lounge. She left the two there, before wandering through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She came back into the room with a large box of tissues. She looked sadly from one to the other. "So tell me, what's going on guys?"

"It's my grandpops!" Spinelli sobbed, snatching a tissue from the box and blowing her nose loudly, "He has terminal lung cancer!" Spinelli covered her face with her left hand, as T.J. scooted closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, tears gathering in his own eyes.

"Oh Spinelli. Oh sweetie, I am so sorry to hear that." She walked across the room, so that she was sat on the opposite side of Spinelli to T.J. She too wrapped her arms around Spinelli, "I lost an aunt to cancer nearly two years ago, I know how much it hurts." And she did know how much it hurt, and in a way, Spinelli thought, that helped. Not the fact that her friend's mom was in pain like she was, but that somebody could understand how she felt. She knew that her own parents could really, they just had a bad way of showing it. Nothing more was said for over an hour, the three simply sat on the sofa, crying and hugging.

After some time, the phone rang. Mrs. Detwiler wiped her eyes on a tissue, and went to answer it, her voice much higher than usual.

"Spinelli," she called through to the lounge where the two ten year olds were still sat, "it's for you." Huh? How could it be for Spinelli- she didn't live here.

"Who is it?" She asked, as she made her way to the hallway, her grief almost forgotten in the confusion.

"It's your mom, she must have known you were here." Now that Spinelli thought about it a bit harder, she vaguely remembered T.J. telling her that he was signing them both out, saying they would be at his house.

"Oh," Grief tore again at Spinelli's heart. This couldn't be good news, "Hello?" She spoke dully into the telephone mouthpiece.

"Ashley!" her mom's voice floated down the phone towards her, as unnaturally high pitched as Mrs. Detwiler's, "I think now you should come to the hospital, if you want to say good bye."

Why were these words so hard to speak? Normally she had no problem speaking, but right now, words were failing her. It seemed like hours, until she finally mustered the voice to say "I do."

With that, she hung up the telephone, and headed back on through to the lounge, where T.J. and Mrs. Detwiler had evidently just been hugging, their eyes bright, waiting for her to come back.

"Thank you very much for having me around Mrs. Detwiler, but I have to get going to the hospital," she turned from Mrs. Detwiler to her son, "Teej, thank you for taking care of me, I owe you big time."

"You're always welcome in this house Spinelli, don't you forget that," Mrs. Detwiler began, T.J. nodding vigorously, "Please, let me give you a lift to the hospital. I wouldn't want you wondering around the city so upset." Spinelli was in no state to argue, so graciously accepted the invitation, and two minutes later found herself buckled up in the back of the Detwiler's car with T.J.

"Thaddius Street Hospital, yes?" T.J.'s mom asked, making eye contact with Spinelli via the rear view mirror.

"Yes that's right Mrs. Detwiler, thank you again so much for looking after me and giving me a lift to the hospital."

"Don't mention it, Spinelli, and you tell your parents that if they need anything at all, they're to ask, and we will be there to help them out."

The rest of the journey passed in comparable silence, leaving Spinelli to think.

A small girl with shoulder length dark hair pulled into two bunches sat on a swing in a large garden. She was wearing a long red shirt with black leggings and red boots. On her head sat an oversized red baseball cap.

"Grandpops, when I grow up big and strong, can I be a baseball player like you?" the girl asked in a squeaky voice, looking at the kindly looking elderly man stood behind her, pushing the swing. He had the same colour hair, but spattered with grey, and his eyes were precisely the same shape and colour as his grand-daughter.

"Ashley, you are such a smart, beautiful girl, you can do anything you want, achieve whatever you want to achieve, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!" His face wrinkled as he smiled, pushing his grand-daughter higher and higher on the swing.

"Thank you grandpops!" the girl turned back around to smile at her grandfather, "with you as my super grandpops, I know I can achieve anything! And I will! I'm gonna be a famous baseball player! And a doctor! And a lawyer! And-" and the young girl continued to list practically every profession under the sun, much to the gentle amusement of the late middle aged man, "Will you always be here to push me on the swing?" she asked, suddenly worried, "Even when I'm a doctor!"

"Of course I will, my princess," he pushed her even higher, "I will always always be here for you. You are my grand-daughter and I love you very much, you must never forget that."

"I never will grandpops, you know I love you very much too?" she asked, whooping slightly as she reached new heights.

"I do know, little Ashley, and I am a very lucky old man!"

"You're not old grandpops! Old is when you're sixty four, and your wife might not still need you or feed you, or lock the door," The old man smiled as his grand-daughter muddled up the Beatles lyrics

"Are you ready to jump, Ashley?" he asked. Perhaps he shouldn't be encouraging this slightly reckless behaviour in his grand-daughter, but he wanted her to remember him as the fun grandpops, who looked after his Ashley, but made sure she had fun too.

"I'm ready, grandpops!" the little girl on the swing reached the peak, and then threw herself into the open air in front of her.

Six years later, Ashley Spinelli stood in a small hospital room. Lying on the bed was her grandfather. He looked so small, underneath that blanket, tubes running in and out of him in all directions. His eyes were closed, but flickered occasionally. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, at the same rate Spinelli would expect to experience in sleep. She gently unrolled his fingers, and then wrapped them around her hand.

"I'm here, Grandpops," she said gently, looking into his face for some sign of recognition. His eyes flickered open, but looked unfocussed. The nurse had warned Spinelli that he might not wake up, but that if he did, he would be very drugged up, and may not recognise her, "I'm here to see you grandpops." He looked like he was trying to talk, but Spinelli held up her other hand to indicate that he did not have to, "It's okay grandpops, don't talk. I'll talk," Spinelli felt a slight pressure in her hand, as her Grandpops tried to squeeze it to show he was listening, "Grandpops, you know that I stand by what I said six years ago- I love you very much?" she felt a slightly stronger squeeze of her hand here, and the corners of her grandpops mouth twitched upwards, "Also, I still like jumping off swings when they're high," she was trying to break the sad mood here, "my friend Gretchen actually fractured her wrist in the second grade, trying to copy me doing it. I got told off by the teacher, but I didn't care, because I was doing what we did best!" The tears were back, and the cold fist holding her heart in a vice grip. Her grandpops wasn't going to push her on the swing again. He wasn't going to be there to cheer when she jumped off and landed unscathed. He wouldn't be there to congratulate her when she made the high school baseball team, or when she graduated high school, or medical school. Now the loss seemed so much more real, but she couldn't show Grandpops that she was sad- that would just make him sad, and she wanted him to die happy.

"I still definitely want to be a doctor," she ploughed on, bravely, "But I hear you need really good grades for medicine, so I'm going to have to put in a lot of study time, but I'll do it, Grandpops, I swear I'll do it, for you." Some stray tears fell onto the hand she held with her grandfather. She didn't know that she wanted to be a doctor until just now, she had maintained that she wanted to enjoy being a kid, and worry about being an adult later, but if she could make sure that no other kids had to go through this torturous process of saying goodbye to a beloved grandparent, then it was what she wanted to do.

Her grandfather's eyes flickered shut, a small smile on his face. Spinelli couldn't help but smile back, even as more tears cascaded down her face.

"Smell ya later, Grandpops," She bent forward to kiss his cheek, and then tilted her head, so her cheek was level with his lips. She felt them move slightly, in an obvious attempt to kiss his youngest granddaughter back, "I'll love you for always."

"I love you too Ashley," he somehow croaked back to her as she straightened up. She gave him one last hug, squeezed his hand, and then turned her back on him to head out the door. As she did so, she heard a loud clicking noise, and the once rhythmic tone faltered into one long, drawling beep. A siren sounded above the door she was walking through, a red light flashing to alert the attention of medical professionals, and true to it's cause, a doctor and three nurses were running towards the room. Spinelli stood outside, in between her parents, hugging them both, as lots of shouts made their way into the corridor outside. After ten minutes, the various medical professionals that had accumulated in the room filed out, sombre expressions on their faces. The doctor, a beautiful young woman who could not be long out of medical school, informed them that Mr. Spinelli had passed away, peacefully, that he would have felt no pain, and he had a smile on his face.

Eight days later

"No, Ashley, absolutely not! You are only ten years old! You are not old enough to attend a funeral!" The argument was in full flow at the Spinelli breakfast table. A large stack of toast remained untouched in the centre, a cup of steaming coffee in front of both adults, and a large glass of orange juice in front of their ten year old daughter. "And besides, you have school! You've already missed two days, you shouldn't miss another!" Flo looked sternly across at her husband, who was staring vacantly into space. He had always known this day would come, but he thought it would be when Ashley had children the age she was now, "Bob, back me up!"

"Sorry, what was that dear?" He snapped out of his reverie, pulling his cup of coffee towards him.

"Ashley is not old enough to go to the funeral this afternoon!" Flo nearly shrieked, causing Bob to fumble, spilling scalding liquid over his hand.

"Geez, Flo," he walked over to the sink and rinsed his hand under the cold water tap, "I think at ten years old Spinelli is capable of making an informed decision by herself!" Ashley smiled at her father, who winked back, "And if she feels she needs to say goodbye to grandpops, then that is fine by me."

"Fine!" Flo snapped, standing up, storming towards the door, "If that's what you think Bob, fine. Ashley, dress respectfully!" The door slammed behind her, and the two heard the front door slam a few seconds later. Bob sighed, and frowned at his daughter,

"I think I upset her a little, I should apologise,"

"No, dad, you're right! We're all upset, you don't need to apologise," she was about to justify this, when her eldest brother walked into the room, eyes bleary from sleep, wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

"Morning dad, Ash!" he paused to greet his family as he walked over to the fridge to retrieve the carton of open milk.

"Good morning Jay, did you sleep well?" his father inquired politely. Jay was eighteen years old, studying Sports Sciences away at college halfway across the country, but home for a long weekend to attend his grandfather's funeral.

"Yeah, thanks pa, did you?" he asked, sitting at the table, pouring a glass of milk and reaching out for a slice of toast simultaneously. Unfortunately, his co-ordination wasn't great, and he accidentally spilt half of his milk on the table, which the cat instantly leapt onto, scattering the toast in all directions, the toast rack catching Bob square in the face.

The tense atmosphere that had been resting over the house for the last eight days was instantly lifted as Bob grumbled good-naturedly, and joked about having Jay arrested.

A few hours later, the cars arrived to drive the grieving family to the church, at which the funeral would be carried out. Many neighbours turned out to admire the beautiful hearse and coffin on display, garnished with white roses. The last thing that Spinelli remembered about the funeral was sitting in the first following car next to Jay, peering blankly through the front windscreen at the coffin of her grandfather in front.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of sad songs, weeping relatives she didn't know existed, and the colour black. Everyone was dressed head to toe in black, the tables had black tablecloths, the adults were all drinking black coffee, there were even black balloons decorating the room the wake was being held in. Eventually, Spinelli grew tired of the black, and wanted out. She cast her eyes around the room once, looking vaguely for her parents, but after not finding one, decided to leave anyway. A large bottle of whisky had just been produced, and some of the adults were already talking too loudly, and dancing in an intoxicated manner. They wouldn't miss her now.

Spinelli stepped out the front door and looked around. This was an area of town she didn't visit often, but that she was slightly familiar with, as it was the area Gretchen lived in. In fact, this street looked quite familiar. Was this Everton Way? It was! What a coincidence! Which number did Gretchen live at? Spinelli turned around to find that she was stood outside number 98, she was pretty sure that Gretchen lived in a low number house, as she remembered thinking it was funny that she lived in such a lowly numbered house considering she had the largest IQ of anyone she knew.

With this in mind, Spinelli turned left and headed down the street, it grew ever more familiar. Eventually she came to a halt outside number 6, looked in through the window, and recognised one of her best friends stood in the living room. Gretchen. At times like these, she needed a good friend- somebody to distract her from her present situation, even if it was by tutoring her in maths.

Spinelli walked up the driveway to knock on the door. Gretchen answered the door, welcomed Spinelli in, and made a pot of tea. The two girls chatted about casual matters, such as King Freddie's new hair (he dyed half of it blue), Vince's increasingly mysterious behaviour, and whether the rumours about Mrs. Finster's head being stuck in a goldfish bowl were true. The night wore on, Gretchen's parents came home and greeted the two girls, giving their condolences to Spinelli.

Eventually, Spinelli decided that she would need to head back to the Wake to go home with her parents. She thanked the Grundlers for their hospitality, and reflected on how much she really loved Gretchen as she strolled back up the street to the now exuberant celebrations, that had spilled onto the street. She had always thought of TJ as being her best friend, but when she really thought about it harder, Gretchen had always been there for her too, and right now, Spinelli felt that have a close girl friend was a good thing. She made a mental note to buy Gretchen a cupcake the next day to thank her for returning her to normality. In a way, at times like these, she just wanted to hide from the bad things in her life just for a little bit. Grandpops was gone, but his spirit would live on. At the minute it's hard to see past the fact that he's gone, Spinelli reflected as she approached the lively celebrations, her brother Jay was extremely merry, wearing a waste paper basket on his head, beckoning her to join him, but I'll get by with a little help from my friends.

"Hey Ash, I bet you can't catch me whilst you've got a bin on your head!"