I stomped on the gas. “Don’t you have one of those needles to jab into your leg?”
Obviously he doesn’t Brooklyn, or he would have jabbed it in already.
Stupid, stupid.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t think...”
“You didn’t think you’d be kissing a shrimp hog,” I said. It was the least funny joke I think I’d ever told.
I glanced over and he was smiling, but his eyes were closed, his head tilted back against the back of the seat as he labored to breathe.
I looked back at the road, concentrating on getting him to the hospital as quickly as possible.
God, Brooklyn, what have you done?
Emergency
I pulled up to the Emergency department, slamming on the brakes right in front of the doors, causing us both to jerk forward against our seat belts and then back against the seats. “Do you need a wheelchair or can you walk?” I asked as I threw the vehicle into park and dared look over at him. He looked bad, really bad as his chest heaved.
“I’m okay to walk,” Dave wheezed. I grabbed the keys out of the ignition and jumped out of the car, running around to the passenger side to help him out, barely remembering to kick the door closed behind me.
My heart was pounding as I ripped the door open, but I tried to stay calm. Or at least look calm. “I’m so sorry,” I said.
He gave me a weak smile. “I’ll be fine,” he said, but his voice was strangled.
“Stop talking,” I said, taking his arm and guiding him to the sliding doors. “I’ll get help as soon as we get inside, okay?”
He nodded.
Maybe we should have called 911 ahead, I thought. Maybe we should have waited for paramedics. Although that would have just taken more time. Driving him here was probably the fastest way to get help, but what if I still didn’t get him here in time?
I didn’t dare address that thought and just tugged him forward, trying not to be impatient about him moving so slowly. Or maybe he wasn’t moving slowly; maybe the adrenaline coursing in my veins was just making it seem that way.
As soon as we were inside, I glanced at him to make sure he was steady before I let go of him and ran up to the reception desk like I was possessed. The woman sitting there gave me a bored look and got as far as pointing at a clipboard with a form on it. “Fill this...”
“He’s having an allergic reaction and didn’t have one of those needles, please, he can’t breathe!”
The clipboard was instantly forgotten as she jumped into action.
“I’ve got an anaphylaxis up here,” she hollered over her shoulder and I instantly heard more raised voices and a racket that meant help was coming. I held my breath, but turned back to Dave, who was right behind me now.
“You okay?” I asked, which was stupid because of course he wasn’t. But he took a labored breath and nodded anyway, twisting my heart up in my chest.
Then half of the hospital staff burst out of the back and put him in a wheelchair and slapped an oxygen mask on his face before he was whisked away. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye or tell him I’d wait for him, no matter how long it took for them to make him better.
I stood there for several long moments, my heart pounding and my own breath coming in gasps as I realized he could have died. I could have killed him with a kiss.
I swallowed against the lump in my throat, but was suddenly overwhelmed by all of it. Maybe it was the post adrenaline crash now that he was with people who could help him, but whatever it was, I was overcome by the reality of what had or what could have just happened.
“Hello?” someone said softly beside me, a gentle pressure at my elbow. It was an older lady with neat white hair and diamond studs in her ears. She wore a green lab coat over her white blouse. “Can I help you, dear?”
Her badge identified her as a volunteer. I turned and looked back toward where they had taken Dave and then to her. “I don’t know...I...”
She tightened her hold on my elbow. “Let’s sit down,” she said in a soothing voice as she led me over toward a sitting area. “I’m Joan and I can tell you they’re wonderful here and will take excellent care of your friend.”
I nodded at the woman and dropped into one of the chairs where I still had a line of sight to where they had taken him. Joan’s hand landed on my forearm. “Can I get you some water or a coffee?” she said.
I looked at her, into her concerned and kind eyes and opened my mouth to respond, but instead of speaking, I totally and completely lost it.
~ ♥ ~
Once I’d stopped doing the ugly cry on her shoulder, tattering the entire supply of tissues she’d pulled from her lab coat pocket, Joan had squeezed my hand and left to go get me some more Kleenex and a bottle of water. After she had disappeared down a hallway, I pulled out my phone, realizing I needed to let people know where we’d disappeared to. I had no way to let Mr. Stratton know where I’d gone, but Chelly had her phone, so I started to text her and then stopped.
What on earth was I supposed to tell her had happened? She’d already suspected something between me and Dave, so maybe I could just tell her the truth and make her swear to secrecy. She’d think it was hilarious (presuming all was okay with Dave—right now it hardly felt hilarious at all) but I felt like I could probably trust her not to spread the details, because that was way too embarrassing. And if Emmie found out...
My phone sounded in my hand, startling me. I deleted the unfinished text to Chelly and went back to the main screen to read the new one that had come in.
Oh God. It was from Jared. R U with Dave? His cars gone?
Crap. I closed my eyes and took a breath. The squeak of sensible shoes announced Joan’s return.
“Here you are, dear,” she said, handing me a bottle of water and a travel pack of tissues. I put the phone down in my lap and took both from her.
“Thank you so much,” I said, giving her a smile as I dabbed at my eyes.
She sat down beside me. “Is there someone I can call for you?”
Oh sure, can you call Jared and let him know I just almost killed his best friend and roommate when I shared some shrimp-flavored saliva with him? Then you can call my roommate and tell her the same thing? “No thanks,” I said. Then I realized more people needed to be contacted; like his parents. This was a medical emergency, after all. “Wait, maybe you can call his school so they can get a hold of his parents?”
“Sure. Westwood?” she said.
I nodded. “How did you know?”
She smiled at me. “We see a lot of them here—you know how it is with boys,” she gave me a conspiratorial smile. “As a matter of fact, we have another one back there right now. Thrown from his horse this morning.”
Alarm bells went off and I froze, my entire body stiffening. “What?”
She nodded as she pulled a pad of yellow post-it notes out of her pocket. “Came in here in his riding outfit with those tall boots. Such a handsome boy. He’d injured his...” she stopped and blinked a few times before shaking her head. “I shouldn’t be telling you that.”
“No it’s okay, I don’t mind,” I said. “Injured his what?” I held my breath.
Joan shook her head. “Sorry, dear. Patient confidentiality and all. But nothing life-threatening,” she assured me with a warm pat on my leg.
I smiled at her casually, or so I hoped. “I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough—I’m friends with a lot of the guys. You don’t happen to remember his name, do you?”
Don’t say Brady. Please don’t say Brady. For the love of all that is good and holy, please do not say Brady.
“I suppose you’re right,” she said, but she did lean closer and looked around before she said, “Brody. His name was Brody Fletcher. I think that was it. Do you know him?”
Of course. Though I guess technically she hadn’t said his name was Brady.
Nicely played, universe.
“Yeah, I know him,” I said, shrinking down in the chair in case he came out fr
om the back.
She gave me a smile and clicked her pen, holding it over her pad. “And what is your friend’s name? I’ll go call the school so they can contact his parents. I presume they’re not local?”
I had no idea where Dave’s family was from. West coast maybe? I remembered Emmie saying something about them being involved in some companies out of Seattle, but more than likely, they didn’t live where all their businesses were.
“I don’t think they’re local, no,” I said. “But his name is Willmont Davidson.” His full name felt so foreign on my tongue and reminded me of that first day we’d met. It seemed like forever ago, but was really only a matter of weeks. Back then I’d thought of him as Will, until I learned about him and Emmie, of course, and how he was known as Dave by all his friends and even his girlfriend. I wondered why he hated his first name—I kind of liked it. Or maybe I liked thinking about what it had been like to have a crush on him that had been so uncomplicated when I didn’t know who he was. But all the guys used their last names at Westwood anyway, so...
“Dear?” Joan said, bringing my wandering attention back.
“Huh? Sorry,” I said, realizing she was waiting for something. “What did you say?”
“I’ll be right back,” she said, tapping at her pad with her pen.
“Oh, okay. Thanks,” I said and watched her go.
I sighed, my nerves jangling around and making me restless and fidgety. Dave was back there, getting treated for a potentially deadly allergic reaction that I had caused. Ugh. And then there was that whole thing about Brady being here, too. And that he was hurt. I wanted desperately to see him, to make sure with my own eyes that whatever had happened to him, it wasn’t serious. It didn’t matter what Joan said, I needed to see him.
Even though I recognized my concern for him was more than one of the other girls on the equestrian team might have for their coach. Or that I might have for a coach that I hadn’t made out with in a supply closet.
My phone sounded, reminding me that I still had yet to respond to Jared. I held my breath, still not sure what to say to him, but to my relief, this time, it was Chelly.
Where R U?
I took a breath and hit her back. Sorry, meant to text you earlier. Dave is hurt. Had to bring him to hospital.
What?!?!? What happened?
That was the million dollar question. One I still wasn’t prepared to answer. Can’t talk. Get Mr. S. to call me? I can’t leave.
Is he ok?
Yes, but I need to talk to Mr. S. Please have him call.
WTH?
I almost responded, but figured it was easier just to leave it for now and give myself some time to work out what I was going to tell my friends.
Waiting for our teacher to call, I took a long drink of the water and tried to figure out what to do next.
Waiting
I wasn’t the kind of girl who regularly defied authority. Or ever defied authority, really. Not even a little, the word rebellion only occurring in my lexicon when writing history papers which were always submitted on time with footnotes and full bibliographies.
But when Mr. Stratton called and said he was going to bring the three remaining Westwood guys over to the hospital in the bus and pick me up to take me back to Rosewood, I put my foot down. I’d promised Dave I would wait for him and there was no way I was breaking that promise nor leaving him before making sure he was okay. I told Mr. Stratton that he should drive the guys to Westwood on the way to taking the girls back to our school and later I would drive Dave back once he was discharged, knowing I’d be able to get Jared or one of the other guys to bring me back to Rosewood. Mr. Stratton didn’t like that idea at all, but he eventually realized I wasn’t going to back down no matter how much he protested. He sighed, called me stubborn and then gave in.
It was the best case scenario in what was kind of a worst case situation. It also meant I didn’t have to see Jared and explain, which was an added bonus, although I did probably owe him a text. Dave would probably want me to let him know anyway, so I took out my phone and opened our conversation.
Hey. Sorry for the disappearance. I had to bring Dave to the hospital. Mysterious allergic reaction.
If I was lucky, Chelly hadn’t mentioned the shrimp to him and he wouldn’t mention to her that he was allergic to shellfish and they would both stay blissfully ignorant of the sordid details surrounding Dave’s mysterious reaction. For now, at least.
Jared texted me back right away like he had been waiting for my response, which he probably was. No! Is he ok?
I blew out a loud breath and looked up, training my eyes toward where they had taken Dave. Then I glanced up at the clock. It had only been about thirty minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Couldn’t someone come out and tell me how he was doing? Didn’t they realize the waiting was torture?
Unless the worst had happened.
Oh God.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and forced myself to not think about that possibility.
I think so, I texted, which was premature, but hopeful. I’ll let you know when I hear something.
R U ok? He returned.
Am I okay? What did that mean? I hadn’t had a reaction. Or maybe, I realized, Jared was—as always—just being a nice guy and making sure I wasn’t completely freaking out. Which I kind of was, but not in a totally hysterical kind of way. One thing about being raised by my parents: they taught us how to be calm in tense or emergency situations. For the most part. Although I can’t imagine my dad would ever have envisioned me and my saliva being the cause of a boy’s anaphylactic reaction as being a test of his training.
Whatever, it did help. So for that, I was thankful.
I’m okay, thanks, I texted back to Jared. The volunteer said she’d call the school and they’d get a hold of his parents.
Good plan. U sure ur ok? I can come sit with u.
No! I thought. Although it was so nice of him to offer, making me realize for about the millionth time that he would make the perfect boyfriend if only there had been that spark. I’m okay, the volunteers are here and I’m just sitting here watching TV. Which was only partially true—the television was on in the corner, but it was muted and I wouldn’t be able to tell what show was on if my life depended on it.
Ok. I’ll make sure your teacher gets the $. Event went great. Sold lots of autographs. People into child actor has-beens in this town.
I smiled as I looked down at my screen. Not has-beens. Up and coming authors.
Sure. Whatever. :-)
I better go. Ttyl. I really had no reason not to text him anymore, but I was getting tired of typing and engaging in conversation, stilted as it was across our phones.
Keep me posted, k? he texted back.
I assured him I would, then, tired of all the texting, I turned my phone off and slipped it into my pocket and pulled my legs up toward me, resting my heels on the edge of the seat and dropping my chin onto my knees, facing where they had taken Dave. With a sigh, I settled in to wait for as long as it took.
~ ♥ ~
Come out now.
Okay, now.
No, really, come out now.
Please, someone come out now and update me.
Please?
Now.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5...now?
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...now?
I played little games in my head, trying to telepathically get someone to come meet me in the waiting room. There was no one else in any of the chairs, so I couldn’t imagine it was so busy in the treatment rooms that they didn’t have time to give me an update. So why wasn’t anyone coming out to talk to me?
Then I had to pee, but was afraid to leave my seat, knowing that would be exactly when a doctor would come out. Where was Joan? Maybe she could watch for the doctors while I ran to the restroom.
I got up to ask the at the desk if there was any update, but the woman just smiled at me sympathetically and promised they’d update me as soon as they could. I co
nsidered using the bathroom really quickly, but knew my luck would run out the second I gave in to nature’s call, so instead I sat back down and tried to keep myself occupied.
Close left eye.
Close right eye.
Blink really fast. Uncross and cross legs. Close left eye, close right...
“Are you having some sort of seizure?”
“Gah!” My having to pee problem was almost solved in that second, but I managed to not wet myself and instead looked up at Chelly who was standing in front of me, an amused expression on her face.
I exhaled, pressing my hand against my chest to try to still my racing heart while I crossed my legs again. “No, I’m just so bored and stressed. Not to mention, I’m dying for the loo. Can you wait here while I go in case they come out—no one has come out to tell me how he’s doing.”
Chelly nodded, all traces of her smile gone as she waved me on. “Go. I’ll wait.”
When I returned and looked at her hopefully, she just shook her head, so I dropped into the chair beside her. “So how are you here?” I asked. “I’m glad you are, of course.” I added when she gave me a look.
She shrugged. “I told Mr. Stratton I wanted to sit with you and keep you company. I know what it’s like to wait around in hospitals.”
When I gave her an inquisitive look, she continued, “My little brother was sick when he was young, so we did a lot of sitting around between all the treatments and surgeries.”
I didn’t know this about my friend. “Is he okay now?”
She nodded. “Other than being a pain in my ass? Yeah, he’s good now.” She didn’t offer up more details, so I didn’t push because although she was smiling, her eyes looked serious and it seemed like maybe the memories were difficult.
“And anyway,” she added after a few quiet moments. “Hot doctors, amiright?”
I smiled, suddenly really glad she came.
“So, what happened with Dave?” she asked, making me suddenly not so glad she came.
I took a breath and was about to deflect somehow when the universe finally shined down on me. A woman in scrubs and a white lab coat came out into the waiting room and made a beeline right for us. She looked at Chelly and I in turn as she said, “Brooklyn?”
Reading Between the Lines Page 12
