by Anna Paige
“I didn’t mean it about you being a brat, I swear. Please wake up,” he was whispering to her now, pleading. “Wake up and I’ll play tea party with you and Charli.” He shook her again, his chin quivering. “You can have my brownies. And Ash’s too. He won’t mind. But you have to wake up, okay?” Two huge tears dripped off his cheeks and landed on Blair’s face.
She didn’t even flinch.
Why was she so still?
What if she never woke up?
“Becker, move. Let the paramedics do their job.” His mom had to come and forcibly remove his hands from her shoulders.
Charli was standing by the front door, tears streaking down her face as three EMTs pushed by her with a stretcher.
I grabbed Beck by the shoulder and tugged him over to stand by Charli, all three of us looking on as they shined lights in her eyes and put some clothes pin looking thing on her finger. The three of them chattered back and forth for a minute before one was sent ahead to get something called an ice blanket and the other two lifted her onto the stretcher.
It only took a minute or two from the time they arrived until they loaded her into the ambulance, but it felt like forever.
Beck’s mom couldn’t ride with her to the hospital because there was no room, not that she would have left Becker alone anyway. When it came time for them to leave, I jumped in the back seat behind Beck and folded my hands in my lap, giving Mrs. Martell my “I won’t be any trouble, but I’m not moving” look.
Charli was crying so hard no one had the heart to even think of telling her she couldn’t go. Beck’s mom handed him her cell as she started the car and said, “Call Ash’s mom and let her know he’s with us, then call Charli’s. If they have a problem with it, they can collect their kids from the hospital. We have to go.”
Beck made the calls, as requested, and the rest of the ride was spent in silence. The only sound was Charli’s frequent sniffing as she continued to cry in the seat beside me. Our seat belts kept us too far apart for me to be much help, but I somehow ended up holding her hand.
I wasn’t sure if it was to comfort her or myself.
We spent an eternity in that waiting room.
Becker kept mumbling to himself about being a bad brother. Charli cried off and on but didn’t say much of anything. Blair’s parents sat on a wide chair, holding hands and whispering so low I couldn’t tell what they were saying.
After what felt like days, a tired looking doctor with a face mask hanging loosely around his neck stepped into the room. He spoke only to the adults, choosing to ignore me, Beck, and Charli completely. “Mr. and Mrs. Martell?”
They stood and nodded, clinging to one another.
“Yes,” Mr. Martell said on an unsteady breath.
“I’m Dr. Gannon. I’ve been overseeing your daughter’s treatment.”
“How is she?”
“She’s stable for now, but still unresponsive.” He watched their faces fall without much of a reaction. I disliked him for that. “We’ve determined that your daughter is likely suffering from an advanced case of Rocky Mountain spotted fever. While we await the lab results to verify the diagnosis, we’ve begun intravenous antibiotics to combat the infection, which should bring her fever down as it begins to take effect. Her fever remains extremely high and we are working to bring it down as much as we can as we wait for the medications to begin their work.”
“Why wouldn’t she wake up? Is she awake now?”
“She has not regained consciousness at this time. We are monitoring her for signs of encephalitis, an inflammation of the brain, which is a rare but not unheard-of complication of RMSF. It is our hope that once the fever comes down, she will awaken, but as of right now, your daughter is in a coma.”
When Mrs. Martell heard the word coma, she crumpled to the floor at the doctor’s feet.
For the first time since we stumbled through Beck’s back door that afternoon, I let the shock and fear consume me, and I cried right along with her.
The funny thing about knowing someone all your life is you know them in all their incarnations. Beck, for example; I knew him when the concept of popularity was based on how many paper valentines you got in your hand-decorated shoe box. I knew him as the seventh grader all the girls were suddenly swooning over, though I started getting a lot of attention that year myself. I knew him as the most popular, proper guy in high school with the grades and personality to guarantee he was going places.
I also knew him as the big brother to a little sister who was kind of a brat sometimes but almost died.
Beck before Blair got sick loved his sister but sometimes needed to get away from her because—gasp—little kids can get annoying. Beck after Blair spent eighteen hours in a coma, a week in the ICU, and nearly died? He was her champion. He didn’t leave her side, questioned everything and everyone who came near her, and flat out refused to go to school the first two days because she’d just been released from the hospital and “might need him.”
He was scared to death of losing her, and he wasn’t ever the same after that.
Neither was their mother.
Mr. Martell, Ben, handled it much better than his wife. She had to start medication for anxiety and her level of hovering was insanely high. I wasn’t sure Blair took a breath without her mom or Becker two feet away in those first few months.
While she practically lit up every time Beck entered the room, I could tell her mother was beginning to wear on her nerves. Having a s-Mother of epic proportions would drive anyone crazy, even a nine-year-old.
Everyone treated her like she would shatter. I even caught myself doing it a few times, mostly from seeing Beck act that way so much.
After a while, I decided she needed a break from the coddling, so I started picking on her. Little things at first, smart remarks, playing keep-away with her dolls, changing the channel on the TV while she was watching her favorite show. Whatever I could think of to annoy her.
Because she needed someone, anyone, to treat her like the bratty little kid she’d always been instead of the child who almost died.
I didn’t know it back then, but that little game I started would evolve into something I never would have expected.
Especially with my best friend’s baby sister.
The same baby sister who ended up giving her virginity to a piece of skirt-chasing shit like Cliff Turner.
I stewed about that a while longer, until my need for another beer outweighed my need to choke the fuck out of Cliff, then I returned to the party, unaffected facade firmly in place.
The same one I’d sported for the last few years where Blair was concerned.
So no one, especially Becker, would know the truth.
Blair
Charli was taking forever to come back with my beer.
I sat there looking out at the waves, marveling at how slowly they seemed to be rolling in. Unhurried, lazy even in their motion. It was hypnotic and I found myself swaying back and forth in time with the movement.
It was nice but still not enough to distract me from what Charli said or how Ash’s hand had grazed my thigh.
I leaned down a bit, nuzzling my nose into the collar of the hoodie, and inhaled, hating myself for craving the scent of his cologne.
Stop being stupid. He wasn’t flirting. He was messing with you. As usual. Getting you back for that stunt in Tommy’s car. He’s never seen you that way.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it?
That was what pissed me off the most. He saw me as a target for his ire, his verbal sparring partner, a source of amusement, but under it all, he still mostly saw me as Becker’s bratty sister.
So, what did it matter how I saw him?
If he ever found out I had a crush on him? Dear God, he’d have a field day with that. I’d never live it down and he’d never—and I mean never—stop teasing me about it.
“Blair?”
I jumped at the voice that suddenly came from behind me. One hand on my chest, I turned to off
er a smile to its owner, Alisha Baines. She was a year behind me in school, but we’d been good friends despite having very few classes together. I hadn’t seen her in several months, though. “Hey, you scared me.” My heart hammered a moment longer as I stood and brushed the sand off the back of my jeans. “What’s up?”
She shook her head, lifting her beer as a partial response. There was amusement in her green eyes as she nodded back toward the party. “You hiding down here from your date?”
“My what?”
“That gross guy with the dark hair said he was your date.”
I closed my eyes, dropping my head in frustration. “It was a blind date that I ended as soon as we got here.”
“Might wanna tell him that,” she offered, her blond hair blowing in the breeze. “Not that he’s opposed to trying to cop a feel from someone else during your supposed date. If he touched my arm one more time, I was going to clock him. I thought the bastard was going to follow me behind the dunes when I went to pee. Creepy fucker. If Rafe knew about it, there’d be bloodshed. Which is exactly why I didn’t tell him.”
Rafe was her longtime boyfriend, former captain of the football team and an all-around great guy . . . unless you messed with Alisha. “That’s really gross. Good call not involving Rafe. He’d lose his shit.” She nodded solemnly as I hurried to add, “I’m sorry Tommy’s been hassling you, but I was extremely clear when I spoke to him. We are not together, nor will we ever be. He’s probably just trying to sound like he fits in, you know what I mean? Use my name so it sounds like he knows someone here? He knew it was my brother’s party. I doubt anyone knows him.”
“I can pretty much guarantee no one wants to, either,” she quipped, glancing down the beach to watch Charli making her way back. “Your brother was looking for you earlier, by the way. He said he hadn’t talked to you yet tonight.”
“Yeah, I haven’t made my way to the party. I was too busy trying to shake off the stench from that guy’s car. I’ll find him in a sec. Thanks for telling me.”
“Give me a call and we’ll catch up soon, okay? I’m headed back. I promised Rafe I’d have another beer or two, but then I have got to get my ass home and start cramming. My Psych professor is a total douche who informed us two seconds before class ended today that we’ll have a test on Monday that decides the curve for the entire semester.”
“Ugh, that sucks. We’ve barely started and already they’re finding new ways to stress us the hell out.”
“Tell me about it,” she said, nodding to Charli as she started past her. “Hey, girl. You look great! Love that top.” She patted Charli’s shoulder on the way by. “Sorry to rush off. Rafe is waiting for me.”
“No problem,” Charli told her. “Tell Rafe hi for me.”
“Will do. You two beware of the creep!” she called loudly as she trudged through the loose sand closer to the dunes, slowly disappearing down the beach.
Charli handed me a fresh beer. “What’s she talking about? ‘The creep?’”
“Tommy,” I said with a sigh. “He was hitting on her hard-core, almost followed her when she went to pee.”
She gasped. “Rafe’s gonna rip his arms off and beat him to death with them.”
“She didn’t tell Rafe. She only mentioned it to me because apparently while he was trying to feel her up, Tommy mentioned he’s on a date with me.”
“No way.” Charli’s eyes were wide as she sipped her beer.
“Maybe he’s just drunk and being a jerk. Hopefully he’ll get shot down by enough girls that he’ll take off and stop bugging people.”
“I swear, he seemed so nice at the coffee shop. Polite, shy even.” She was shaking her head, looking both confused and guilty. “I don’t know how he could be one way at work and turn into basically a whole different person tonight. I’ve been to that coffee shop dozens and dozens of times while he was there, and I never once got a creepy vibe from him. He was sweet, charming, clean.”
I snorted at the clean part. “Well, he’s not any of those things tonight. Did you see the pit stains?” I shuddered.
“I’m really sorry. I had no idea he was so . . . I don’t even have a word for it. But I really am sorry.”
“I know. And it’s not your fault. He was putting up a front, probably to fish for tips or something. You couldn’t have known because he didn’t want you to know.”
“Maybe,” she hedged. “You want to join the party now? Becker seemed to be looking for you. He saw me in line at the keg and raised a brow, looking around like he expected you to be with me.” She got that same old look on her face, the one that meant she was somehow expecting more from my brother, even though he’d never once shown any romantic interest in her. He’d always been friendly but not that way. “I thought maybe he’d come over to ask me where you were, but some girl walked up and hugged him, which diverted his attention.”
“Have you spoken to him at all tonight?”
She shook her head, looking deflated. “I was waiting for you. I never know what to say to him when you’re not around.”
“You have no problem when I’m with you, though. You flirt and get close to him then, why not when it’s just you and him? How will he ever get the hint if you don’t talk to him unless you’re with me?” I blew out a breath and bumped her with my shoulder as I started toward the party. “You should have walked right up and hugged him hello just like that girl did. You’ve known him since you were five. You haven’t seen him in months. It would have been perfectly acceptable to give him a hug.” I knew I shouldn’t be encouraging her, but I swear, if my brother would just notice her—really notice her—there was so much potential for the two of them.
Apparently, he suffered from the same form of blindness as Ashton.
Guys—even my brother whom I adored—could be so stupid sometimes.
Ashton
“All I’m saying is we should keep our options open.” Beck shrugged one shoulder and took a long swallow of his beer. “We don’t have to decide anything yet.”
“What options? You get an offer from one of the out-of-state companies you applied to or something?” I asked, not sure where this sudden indecisiveness was coming from. Becker Martell was never flaky, never unsure. He made up his mind and that was it. Period.
“No, but I might. I’ve got several post-interview call-backs coming in the next week. I could get multiple offers. And then I’d be screwed because I signed a lease on a place here.”
“So, we’ll just put my name on the damn lease. Problem solved.” I didn’t see the issue.
He shook his head. “Then, if I do get hired on with one of the other companies and end up moving, you’d be stuck paying the rent alone.”
“I think I can manage. It’s not like I couldn’t just find another roommate if money got tight.”
He snorted into his beer. “Who the hell else would sign on to live with you? Not just anyone could deal with your shit on a daily basis. It takes a hearty constitution.”
“Kiss my ass, Beck.”
“You know I’m right. Hell, I wouldn’t want to be in a position to find a new roommate either. You never know what kind of crazy you might end up living with. People are seriously fucked up these days.”
“More fucked up than you?” I snickered.
He flipped me off.
“If you two are debating who the biggest asshole is, I’d like to weigh in.” Blair walked over and slung one arm around her brother’s waist.
He tucked her into his side and grinned. “I bet I know who you’re gonna vote for.”
“Me too.” Charli went to Beck’s other side and mirrored Blair’s position, putting an arm around Beck. He shook his head at her, but put an arm across her shoulders too, because to do anything else would hurt her feelings.
Blair gave her a wink, which Beck somehow missed.
Charli loved to seize any opportunity to touch, hug, or be close to Beck. For his part, he didn’t encourage it, but he never outright asked her to stop, eit
her.
“When did this become a competition? We’re both assholes, just in differing ways. For instance, Prince Becker here is more covert about it, whereas I’m a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of asshole. I don’t pretend to be better than I am.”
Beck smirked. “I’m not pretending. I’m just better.”
“Bull. Shit.” I chuckled. “These two might believe that, but they didn’t see you in action the last six years, did they? As a front row spectator to your various shenanigans, I know exactly who and what you are, shithead. You can’t fool me.” I glanced at Charli then locked eyes with Blair. “The gullibility of youth can be a dangerous thing. Wolves in sheep’s clothing and all that.”
Blair held my eye as she stepped out of her brother’s reach and crossed her arms over her chest. I loved how she looked in my hoodie, even if the bulkiness of it did downplay her incredibly full chest. “I’m not gullible in the least. I know my brother is no angel, but at least he tries to be a good guy. Some people”—she gave me a pointed look—“don’t bother to make that effort.”
I scoffed. “Says the girl wearing my hoodie because I couldn’t stand seeing her covered in goose bumps.”
“You want it back?” She started to pull it over her head, only her shirt was coming off with it. There was a quick flash of a lacy, black bra and several hoots from the crowd before I could reach out and jerk her shirt—and my hoodie—back down her torso.
“Jesus, Blair. Trying to flash the whole beach?” I turned around to glare at the guys who were still chanting “take it off” and a hush fell over them.
“Pretty sure there was a nip slip, babe. Unlined lace bras will do that.” If Charli was trying to be helpful with her comment, she was going about it all wrong. “Isn’t that thing itchy?” She scratched at her own chest as she spoke, a slightly horrified look on her face.
“Shit.” Blair hung her head and swayed slightly on her feet. Her face and neck were beet red.
