Woopdedoo

So here's my challenge... it's not amazing but not NEARLY as bad as my first try, which was for WR and frankly sucked. Mostly because the song and clippets didn't match, but this works a ton better. It was kinda fun! :D

Annie - by Vanessa Carlton (I changed all the Annie's to Angel's, just to make it fit.)
Reaching For the Stars - copyright 2007 Anna Ingraham

Watch her as she flew deep within the blue
A day out from the county I.C.U.
There's nothing you can do
Someone gently says to you
The doctor says that now it won't be long

Angel smiled up at me, and my drumming heart stilled. She looked so much smaller than her eight years in that bed, the skin of her face drawn so tight and her eyes huge pits of knowledge. She was hooked up to several machines, and the beep of her heart was the only sound in the room. But she was still beautiful, despite everything, and she was still smiling. I felt tears well up in my eyes.

I try and live up 'til the moment and I hope that I don't blow it
And what is it in me that she hears?

“I’m here,” I whispered, reaching for her hand.
“Yes,”Angel breathed.
“How are you?” I knew that the question was trivial and pointless, as clearly she wasn’t good, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“I’m not dead yet,”Angel said, smiling. I laughed, and then bit my lip to keep myself from crying.

It's just a song she likes
Little arms around my neck
And a dying girl whispers in my ear

“I heard you sing,” said the little girl next to me. “And I saw him kiss your cheek. Is he your boyfriend?” Her intelligent eyes stared at me with interest.
“No,” I said, blushing. “We’re just friends.” But even as I said it, I wondered if it was even true anymore. “Did you like our song?” I couldn’t help asking the little girl.
She nodded. “It’s from High School Musical, right?” It was my turn to nod, and I was surprised that this small girl had recognized it so easily. “I think your friend,” here she gave me a teasing look, “Is a better singer then Troy in the movie.”

Tell me now can you feel it?
I've been keeping company with a ghost
She comes to me like a piece of summer
She comes to me on the days when I need it most

“Do you try to cheer up everyone you see who’s sad?” I couldn’t help asking, as Angel slipped back into the seat next to me, having ceased the woman's tears and even gotten her to smile. Angel turned her big brown eyes on me and said with all seriousness.
“Yes.”
“Why do you do it?” I asked, feeling awed by such utter goodness.
“Because I care,” Angel replied simply. She picked up her small bag and stood again. “This is my stop.” She smiled at me, her eyes crinkling, and then she was gone. I watched her through my window, as she swung her bag over her shoulder and began to walk down the sidewalk. Who would guess that inside this tiny eight year old with brown hair and freckles, wearing overalls and high tops, was the soul of a saint?

Well summer dies and nothing lasts forever
And you're so fine, the way you stand up to your fears
The summer dies and its just moments we have together
I'd give my bones for you to get a few more years
For you and I, oh Angel
More to life than trying to survive, oh Angel

“Why didn’t you want me to know about this?” I asked, gesturing to all the equipment Angel was hooked up to.
“I don’t like people-” she was having trouble talking, and I wished I hadn’t asked “to think of me- like that.”
“Oh Angel,” I said, unable to keep the tears in any longer.
“Don’t be sad. I’ve gotten to- do a lot.” She said the words bravely, but I could see tears glittering in her eyes. “I want you to- go- to the cafe.” I nodded, bending my head closer so I could hear her quiet words. “Tell them- I’m sick- that's why I couldn’t come.”
“But you’ll get better!” I protested. “And then you can go back and tell them yourself.” She shook her head weakly, and I could tell her energy was nearly spent. “”I won’t- be able. You go-for me.”

My boyfriend took pictures of me as I held you
I travel alone and the loneliness brings me to tears
The summer dies and it's just moments we have together

“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Angel,” said the girl, staring at me fixedly with her big brown eyes. “And I’m eight. Mom says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, but I don’t really think you’re a stranger. You remind me of my sister. She sings just like you. What's your name?”
“Jenna,” I said. Normally I might not have wanted to talk to an eight year old girl, but I was still full up with happiness. The bus was warm, and this little girl, who’s name somehow matched her big brown eyes and freckles so perfectly, seemed just the right person to talk to.

I'd give my bones for you to get a few more years
For you and I, oh Angel
More to life than trying to survive, oh Angel

I stared at Angels receding figure with regret. Suddenly she tripped and fell, and lay there on the lightly snow covered ground, not moving. With a cry I ran forward and skidded down next to her. I shook her desperately, and she opened her eyes slowly, pain written across her face.
“What's wrong?” was the first thing I said to her.
She smiled a little, and then shook her head. “Just dizzy, I’m fine now.” I helped her sit, and then stand, but I had trouble believing that just a little dizziness could cause her to go so pale her freckles stuck out like bright dots of marker.

Stronger than the hands that hold you
You sing along to the song on the radio
If I drank too much when I am reckless
Just this once would you forgive this

“Do you-” I started hesitantly, not sure how to ask “I mean, is this what you do whenever you explore the city? Like you told me about?”
“Yes,” she said. “I get to know a lot of people this way.”
“How come you’re so eager to meet people?” I asked, feeling like I was talking to someone my age or older, not an eight year old. “I mean, you have your whole life ahead of you. You’ve got plenty of time.”
She stopped walking and looked at me, and I was alarmed to see something close to tears in her eyes. “Do I?” she asked in a quiet, sad voice.

And hold on, the days gone by
Tell me now can you feel it?
I can't keep this all to myself
She's elegant and she means it, no

“Are your eyes bothering you again?” she asked. The old lady turned to Angel with a smile.
“A little.”
“Shall I read some?” Angel asked, holding out her hand for the book.
“If you like, dear one,” said the elderly lady, handing her the book and then settling back against the couch with a sigh. Angel cleared her throat softly and then began to read, in an unfaltering and clear voice. I was pretty close to their couch so I could hear what she was saying, and it was nothing an eight year old ought to have been able to read. But it seemed to me that although Angel may look even younger then eight in body, she really was much, much older. In fact, it seemed almost as if she was the wisest person I’d ever met.


Years for you and I, oh Angel
More to life than trying to survive, oh Angel
Watch her as she flew deep within the blue
Watch her as she slips away from you

“She read to me,” said an old lady.
“She gave me beautiful pictures,” this from a lonely looking woman.
A young man spoke up. “She taught me french. An eight year old, can you believe it?”
“She was always like that, so much older than her years.” Heads nodded in agreement, and the table was quiet for a moment as everyone sipped their coffee.
Then I sucked up my shyness and spoke. “She taught me to care.”
Everyone turned to look at me, and I met their stares. “Dear,” said the old lady, placing her hand over mine, “She taught us all to care.”

I'll keep fingers crossed always for you