The sunlight was so bright that I squinted and shaded my eyes with my hand. I paused to catch my breath, inhaling freshly mown grass. Straightening, I glanced around at a driveway leading up to a garage the size of my entire house. Bigger, actually.
“Where’s your car?” I asked Chad.
“My car?” He wrinkled his brow and shot me another one of those puzzled looks. “Don’t you mean my bike?”
“Bike?” I asked, surprised that he hadn’t shown up in a hot sports car.
“Duh. You know I drive a motorcycle.”
“Oh, yeah. Your bike.” I smiled nervously. I’d never been on a motorcycle before, but I could give it a try. “Is that what we’re taking?”
“After the stink you made last time you rode with me and a bug smashed on your neck? We’re not trying that again. Besides, my GSXR 1300 is so powerful, everyone would hear it and know I was here. I walked over.”
I frowned, trying to remember the distance between Leah’s neighborhood and Community Central Hospital. Too far to walk, for sure.
“Why are you just standing there?” he said impatiently. “You want to get caught?”
“No, but I’m still tired. How far will we have to walk?”
“Walk? You can’t be serious.” He laughed like he was playing along with a big joke. Then he reached for my purse, rifled through it and brought out a key ring. “We’ll drive like usual.”
Then, before I could say anything, he’d pushed a button and the garage door rose up, revealing a hot blue convertible and a gray SUV. He clicked another button and the convertible’s lights flashed.
“Come on,” he urged, handing me back the purse.
“But won’t Mrs. Mo … my mom get mad if I take her car?” I asked nervously.
“Why would we take her car? We’re going in yours.”
Chadwick Rockingham, Jr. wore that puzzled look again, but now it was mixed with a cocky grin that spread into adorable dimples when I asked him to drive. I bet Leah never let him drive. He suggested we go to our “usual place,” but I could guess what usually happened in their “usual place,” so I shook my head.
“That’s not a good idea. I’m … um … still kind of weak.”
“Where do you want to go?” He slipped into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. “If you’re hungry, we could get something at the Club.”
The Club? As in the Courtyard Country Club. Only elite and wealthy people were members. I’d imagined lunching there with my clients some day.
I shook my head regretfully. “I’m not hungry.”
“So where do you want to hang? We can’t go to my house ’cause my brother has his geek friends over making some dumb school project, and I know they annoy you.”
I shrugged, afraid of saying something wrong. But with my real body lying in a coma, I had to take a risk. “Let’s go to the hospital.”
“Huh? You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m serious. I need to go to the hospital.”
“But you just got out.”
“Not that hospital.”
His rubbed his chin, clearly puzzled. “Babe, you’re confusing me. What’s up?”
“I need to see someone at Community Central.”
“Who?”
“A family friend,” I invented. “It’s really important I see her … before it’s too late.”
“Intenseness.” He slowed the car at a yield sign, glancing over at me. “She must be really sick.”
“You have no idea.” I sank against the leather seat, exhausted and scared. My entire life (and Leah’s) hinged on getting to the hospital.
He shrugged. “Hey, whatever you want works for me. On to the hospital.”
“Oh, thanks!”
“You’ll be thanking me all right,” he added with a wink. “But that’ll be afterwards when we go to our place.”
“Um … okay,” I agreed. Not my problem. By then I’d be myself again and Leah could take care of Chad in their “usual” way.
I leaned back into my seat, falling into fatigue and closing my eyes as Chad talked. It was easy to listen to him, as he had a way of talking that made even boring topics like golf sound exciting. His idol was Tiger Woods, and he was being groomed by a professional coach and already competing in golf tournaments.
“This tournament will be my first televised one, and first place is fifty big ones. Just wait, babe, I’m turning pro.”
“Cool.” We turned on Mercy Avenue, a few blocks from Community Central. I tensed, clawing the leather seat. Getting closer. One more turn and we’d enter the hospital parking lot. But what would I find there?
Best scenario: I rush into a hospital room where my family and friends are gathered around my body. “I’m back!” I shout. Even though I look different, they recognize me. A magical switcheroo happens and I leave Leah’s body and wake up instantly in my body. Leah returns, too, and she’s be so grateful that she offers eternal friendship and promises of music-industry connections.
Worst scenario: I rush into a room where my family and friends huddle together, crying over my lifeless body. The doctors have pulled the plug, and Amber Borden was pronounced dead.
Not gonna happen, I assured myself. I’d think positive, just like all my books advised, and have my happy ending.
As we pulled into the parking lot, my stomach knotted. I glanced down, startled again to see Leah’s pale slender fingers clenched in my lap. We held each other’s hands, unified in this soul-reversing mission.
“You okay?” Chad asked when he killed the engine.
“I’m working on it.”
“Hospitals suck,” he said, frowning. “You sure you want to go in there?”
“It’s something I have to do.” I unfastened my seatbelt.
“Then go for it. I’ll wait here.”
My courage faltered a little. “Won’t you come with me?”
“Sorry, Babe, but hospitals smell so … I don’t know … antiseptic. When my Uncle Sid was dying, all I could think of was how the room smelled. Uncle Sid was not a sweet-smelling guy, always cracking jokes about his farts or blowing smoke rings. But being in that hospital room was weird … too clean smelling … like he was already dead.”
“I understand how you feel. This isn’t easy for me,” I admitted.
“So don’t go.”
“Or you could go with me.”
“What’s the point? I don’t even know your friend.”
“But you … I mean, she might know you.”
“Lots of people know me cause of school and stuff. Doesn’t mean I know them or want to.”
“You might be surprised. You could wait in the lobby.”
“Or not. I’ll be here when you’re done.” He reached into his pocket and flipped open his cell phone. “I got some calls to make.”
Thanks for nothing, I thought angrily.
Grabbing Leah’s purse, I slammed out of the car. Being angry made it easier to put aside my fears. I didn’t know whether I’d find my body alive or dead, or if my own family would know me. But at least I knew the layout of this hospital. My sisters had been born here and were so small they had to stay two more months. Funny, how I’d resented their interrupting my life, then.
Now I’d give anything to see them again, hold their warm chubby bodies and tickle their little feet until they giggled. Did they realize I was gone and miss me? Or had they forgotten I existed?
Despite still being weak, I hurried up the steps and through the automatic doors. The main desk was obscured behind a long line of people waiting their turn. Everyone looked anxious and frustrated, except a security guard dozing against the wall by the bank of elevators.
Now what? I wondered. If I went in line, it would take an hour or more to reach the front desk. So how was I going to find my room?
Glancing down at Leah’s purse, I had an idea. Sure enough, inside the purse was a pretty pink monogrammed wallet with ninety-eight dollars in cash plus a generous selection of credit cards. F
anning out the credit cards, I picked a shiny gold MasterCard. Then I went into the gift shop and ordered their biggest, most extravagant floral basket for Amber Borden. How ironic that my first gift of flowers was coming from myself.
“Please deliver them right away,” I added as I forged Leah’s name on the credit slip.
Then I pretended to leave, but ducked around a pillar. I hid my face behind a magazine as I waited in a hard plastic lobby chair.
I was beginning to think the gift shop would never deliver the flowers when I saw a girl my age, wearing a candy striper uniform, carrying my basket toward the elevators.
The security guard, a skinny guy wearing an oversized uniform, roused from his half-slumber. He eyed the pretty candy striper, a flirty smile brightening his face as his pale hand snaked out to punch the elevator button.
My magazine slapped to the floor as I jumped up and dashed toward them. The elevator dinged its arrival, and I dove inside a second before the doors slid shut.
There were only two of us in the elevator, but Ms. Candy Striper didn’t notice me since her face was blocked by the enormous bouquet. I followed the flowers and Ms. Candy Striper off at the third floor. At the Intensive Care Unit, she slipped through a glass door marked “Restricted Area. Immediate Family Only.”
Well, family definitely included me. So I pushed through the glass doors.
The world hushed to soft voices and a low buzz of machines. The smell of flowers was replaced with antiseptic odors and something darker: an aura of despair, hopes dying.
I passed a waiting room with two couches, several orange plastic chairs, a TV with a darkened screen, and blinds shut over two windows. Fears and prayers weighed heavily in the air and breaths were held, hoping. I held in my breath, too, anxiously looking for Mom, Dad, Dustin or Alyce. But I knew no one.
Hurrying down the corridor, I caught sight of the flowers as they turned a corner. My attitude was casual, like I belonged here, and no one noticed me. When the girl stopped at a desk, I ducked behind a corner wall, eavesdropping.
“Delivery for Borden in Room 311.”
“You can’t go in that room,” a thirty-something guy wearing scrubs said as he came up beside her. He reached for the flowers. “But I can take them for you.”
“Will you?” She dimpled. “That’s so sweet.”
“Smells nice. Too bad the patient can’t enjoy them.”
“That’s too bad.” The candy striper lit up as she checked the guy out. Even in loose scrubs, you could tell he had a mega-hard body. Instantly Ms. Candy Striper lost her boredom. “Are you a doctor?”
“An intern.”
“Cool. So what’s wrong with—” She checked the paper. “—Amber Borden?”
“Car accident, severe head trauma.” His mouth frowned, but his eyes shone with interest as he checked Ms. Candy Striper out. Apparently he liked what he saw, because he didn’t rush away. “Poor kid was only seventeen.”
Was? I thought, rigid with fear. As in past tense?
“So terribly young,” the girl replied in a tone clearly meant to let him know she was old enough for anything he had in mind.
“She’s been in a coma since Saturday.”
“Will she wake up?”
He shook his head gravely. “It’s just a matter of time.”
“That’s horrible!” Miss Candy Striper’s hand fluttered to her ample chest. The intern’s gaze followed and lingered. “Her family must be devastated.”
“Yes, they just left. Her parents and friends have been here every day.” He leaned in for a closer look at her cleavage. “Nice of you to be concerned for a stranger.”
“I can’t help but care about people, even if I don’t know them.” Her tone implied an intimate hope to know him better. “My ex-boyfriend hated my volunteering here. But it was the best way I could think of to help other people. He’d complained that I should spend all my time waiting on him.”
“What a jerk.”
“Yeah. That’s why I dumped him.”
“Good for you. You’re better off without him.”
“Yeah, he was all into himself. I can’t imagine not caring about unfortunate people like that poor girl in there.”
I followed her gaze into the room, but I couldn’t see anything except part of a white curtain around a bed and the electric glow of machines. I wished they’d stop talking and leave so I could sneak inside the room. It was hell to be so close, yet unable to even see my own body.
“It’s tragic,” the intern went on. “She’d just won a scholarship and had her whole life ahead of her. After I finish my rounds, I can tell you more if you’re interested.”
“Oh. I am.”
He glanced at his watch. “My break’s in a half an hour. Want to meet in the cafeteria?”
“Would I! But my break isn’t for an hour.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
Ms. Candy Striper moved toward the elevators and I bent my knees, ready to make a run for Room 311. But she only took a few steps and then stopped, turning back, her expression curious. “I was just wondering … ?”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“You said it was just a matter of time for that girl.” She pointed to my room. “How much time?”
“Until the heart transplant recipient is ready.” He frowned. “Two days.”
I sagged against the wall.
Two days—only two freakin’ days!
I had to get back into my body—ASAP!
But the intern seemed in no hurry to leave. He spent like twenty minutes talking with a nurse. They consulted a medical chart, speaking in the foreign language of medical jargon. Finally he left, but wouldn’t you know? The nurse didn’t. She walked into Room 311, shutting the door so I could no longer see the white curtain surrounding my real body. I threw my hands up, wanting to scream.
Instead, I sucked in deep breaths (like my book Chill Out, Charge Forward advised for staying calm in frustrating situations), and counted the ticking seconds.
I had reached 137 seconds when I heard a strange sound. A dark and furry creature streaked past me so fast the breeze swirled my hair into my eyes. When I pushed back my hair, the black blur was disappearing down the hall. A dog? What was a dog doing running loose in a hospital? And what was the weird glow around its neck?
A Comforter!
“Cola!” I shouted, jumping up. “Cola!”
This was the best news I’d had since dying. Grammy Greta must have sent him to help me. So why was he running? Was I supposed to follow him? He must be leading me somewhere important. So I shot down the hall after my dead dog.
Racing around a corner, I dodged past a surprised-looking man. Murmuring an apology, I caught a glimpse of a shaggy tail and raced past a busy pharmacy, up a flight of stairs, and through a set of doors marked “No Admittance.” A guy in scrubs shouted for me to slow down, but otherwise no one paid much attention. Emergencies happen all the time in a hospital.
Still, it was weird that people noticed me but not Cola. How could anyone miss a medium-sized shaggy black dog? It was like he was invisible.
Invisible?
That made sense because Cola’s job as Comforter would be difficult if everyone could see him. But if this was true, why could I see him?
Was it because of our bond when he was alive? Or maybe because of my whole freaky out-of-body experience? But why didn’t he just come up to me? If he was here to rescue me, running away didn’t make sense. Still, his showing up when I was in trouble was too big a coincidence for it to be random. Cola must be leading me somewhere—hopefully to Grammy.
Running was agony; my throat burned and I ached everywhere. Still, I kept going, determined. Walls and people blurred as I ran, gasping for breath, heart pumping so fast I was afraid it would burst. Couldn’t keep … keep going … going much longer. I didn’t have the breath to shout for Cola to slow down, so I screamed it in my head.
Cola! Stop already!
And he did.
At t
he junction of a T-shaped hall, Cola whipped his tail around and crouched low as he faced me. With narrowed black eyes, he bared sharp angry teeth and growled.
“Cola!” I jumped back. “What’s wrong?”
In my head I heard an angry snarl: Leave!
If he’d bit me, I couldn’t have been more surprised. “Cola, you don’t mean that!” I cried. “What’s wrong?”
He growled again.
“Why are you acting like this?”
His fur bristled like sharp blades and he moved a step forward, glaring.
I couldn’t figure out why he had turned vicious. It was like he didn’t even know me.
Well, duh! I hit my palm to my head. Of course he didn’t recognize me.
“Cola!” I cried softly. “I know I look different, but I’m still your best friend. Cola, I’m Amber.”
He snarled, curling his lips in a dangerous, threatening warning.
I know who you are. He didn’t actually speak out loud but I could hear him in my mind.
“Then why are you acting like this?”
You do not belong here, he mental-messaged.
“Don’t you think I know that?” I pointed at myself. “Only no one will believe that I’m Amber, not Leah. I don’t want to be in this body, but I don’t know how to get back in my own. Can’t you help me?”
It isn’t my job.
“But my real body is going to … to die …” I wiped my eyes. “In two days.”
His dark eyes softened as he shook his shaggy black head. I must work. Do not follow. Then he zoomed down the left hallway.
Of course, I followed. I kept going, determined not to lose Cola and probably my last chance to fix my body problem.
By the time I caught up with Cola, he was streaking through another set of “No Admittance” doors. Damn, what was it with him and forbidden areas? This time I didn’t slip by without notice. An elderly nurse looked up from a desk in furious surprise. She appeared frail enough to be one of her own patients, but the spunky little lady bellowed, “Stop!” Then she gave chase.
The nurse slowed at a steep flight of stairs. I hurried up them, then made a sharp right behind Cola down a narrow hall. He passed through a closed door as if he and the door had no more substance than clouds.
Dead Girl Walking Page 8
