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Blair sat down in the sand a few feet from Noah, also facing the sea. It was a pretty view, the way the water was reflecting the golden light in dappled waves. How poetic, perfect for her.

"I don't think I've ever told anyone at school that I'm dying."

It came from nowhere, appearing in full surround sound as suddenly as Blair had thought it. She hadn't ever told anyone about the CF, though it was certainly possible Miley had told someone. Little brat. Blair wondered about her family for the first time in a while; would they watch her die? God, she hoped not. It was the old 'remember me as I was, not as what I became' thing.

"I have cystic fibrosis. You know what that is?" Blair looked at Noah, but continued without waiting for a reply. "It's a genetic disorder. A protein that affects sodium channels isn't synthesized. So when I get sweaty I lose a lot of salt, for one. But the protein also helps break down the mucus in your lungs, and since I don't have the protein my lungs are full of gunk."

She took a breath, suddenly filled with fervor to tell them everything. "So I've stayed home from school a lot because I get lung infections and pneumonia a lot, and I cough and wheeze and have shit stamina. And eventually I'll die of that, probably in the next decade or two." She laughed, a sudden bark of mirthlessness. "I mean, even if I went home from here, I'm gonna die. Pretty fucked, right?"

She laughed again.
V5: Cut Short

V6: Broken Down

V7: Unprepared
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