So Typical

by Martha Greenwood

  "Yeah," Melody said slowly.

  "Well, he has a cousin named Christian Cox who lives here and goes to school with me. And he's been...very nice to me this past week. Well, I tried to make it clear that there would never be anything between us, but I'm not too sure I've been doing a great job of that. So, he asked me to go to the beach this weekend. And just to make you, my mom, and Timothy happy, I said 'yes'; now I am desperately regretting that decision.

  "Anyways, he needed a ride home, and I agreed only because it was raining, and I pitied the poor boy. And during the ride he...he..." Scarlett trailed off, not sure what she was trying to say.

  "Lots of times, loathing is mistaken for love," Melody said quietly, not looking at Scarlett.

  Scarlett frantically shook her head. "No. I do not like him in the slightest bit. Not like that anyways. He's a nice guy, but I have a boyfriend." It's just his scent makes me dizzy, his voice makes me light-headed, his eyes make me melt, his personality draws me, his face intrigues me...

  "All right, so I've got mixed feelings," Scarlett finally admitted. "But, I'm still completely devoted to Tristan." Tears welled up in the corners of Scarlett's eyes.

  "Of course you are. He was your first love. But, first loves are not always your last," Melody replied soothingly. "Give Christian a chance at least. If you still don't like him, then there's nothing between you two, but if you do..."

  Scarlett collapsed in the chair of a dressing room twenty minutes later and felt drained of all the energy that was still remaining in her. She was so confused it made her head hurt.

  The next day at school, while Chloe and Millie were having a very colorful argument over who was better: Edward or Jacob, Scarlett realized that her cell phone vibrated against her skirt's pocket, and she quickly flipped it open.

  "Hello?" She didn't even care to look at the caller ID.

  "Um...Scar," Ginny's voice rang through the other end. Scarlett's heart quickened just at the sound of her voice. Relief flowed through her system as someone from her past called her. But the next words chased the relief away quickly. "There's been an accident. I know I should have called you earlier, but I've been grounded and I didn't get to sneak my cell back until today. Anyways," a pause and then, "Tristan's in the hospital..."

  Scarlett's vision blurred. She couldn't have heard right. The room suddenly felt warm. Hot even. Too hot. "W-What?" she stuttered.

  "What's wrong?" Zoey asked, noticing Scarlett's serious expression and the worried look in her green eyes.

  Scarlett merely shook her head as Ginny continued on the other end of the phone.

  "Tristan...he was knocked down during Saturday's game...and now he's in the hospital. He hasn't stirred yet. He's in a slight...coma."

  And then Scarlett gasped, her eyes looking straight ahead, but not comprehending anything that she saw. She stood up on wobbly legs. She needed to get out of here; it was much too hot for her. She needed to go outside and get some fresh air. But before she could even think about trying to get her legs to move, she fainted.

  ~*~*~*~ FLASHBACK ~*~*~*~

  SATURDAY'S FOOTBALL GAME

  It was Saturday evening, and Tristan was sitting in the locker room with the rest of his teammates. Their coach had finally returned from his extended vacation and was standing in the front by the whiteboard, drawing out plays, but all Tristan heard was, "Blah, blah, blah, run, blah, blah, blah, ball, blah, blah, the receiver will then, blah, blah, blah, Tristan, are you listening to me?"

  It took a few minutes for Tristan to realize that the coach had actually spoken to him and the entire football team was looking at him now. He shook out of his trance. "Um...yeah, sorry. I just...have a lot on my mind at the moment," he admitted.

  He could hear the silent whispers of the others explaining his unusual actions to the ones who didn't pay attention to gossip and drama. He took a deep breath and tried to pay more attention to what the coach was saying. It took all of five seconds for his attention span to collapse yet again, and his mind wandered back to Scarlett.

  I wonder where she is. I hope her new school isn't like ours, filled with drama and all the jazz. Maybe she'll call me later. I should check my messages. Maybe I should call her. I could ask Ginny for some updates.

  "Cox!"

  Tristan came back to reality. "Yes, coach?"

  "You aren't paying attention. What has gotten into you?"

  "Nothing...it's—nothing."

  "It better be nothing. This game determines if you get that scholarship or not. There are coaches coming from all sorts of colleges to check out the rising seniors."

  With that said the entire team—all except Tristan—jumped up and whooped.

  While they were running onto field, Kyle came up from behind Tristan and nudged him in the arm, "C'mon, Tris, get your head in the game," he said, looking up at the stands and spotting the university coaches.

  The two teams were in position, ready for the play. The front rows were growling at each other and shouting insulting things to the opposing team. The referee blew his whistle, and the football flew into Tristan's hands. Tristan took a few steps back and looked for someone open. Everyone was covered. And then Tristan spotted an opponent running head long in his direction. That meant someone on their team was open.

  Tristan searched and spotted Tom Walters waving his hands in the air heading for their goal. Tristan threw his most famous spiral and heard it quickly zoom through the air. He could faintly hear the crowd thumping their hands and feet. And that was the last thing he heard.

  Suddenly he was rather roughly knocked to the ground by the opponent. His head hit the freshly manicured grass too hard, and the next thing he saw was darkness.

  ~*~*~*~ END FLASHBACK ~*~*~*~

  When Scarlett fainted, she had hit the tile floor pretty damn hard. And now there was a small bruise forming on the back of her head from the impact. Everyone quickly crowded around her. Plenty of students were on their cell phones, calling the ambulance. Chloe, Millie, and Zoey were all on their knees doing everything they could think of to revive Scarlett. Christian was staring dumbfounded at Scarlett's pale face with a large group of onlookers who were all too petrified to move. His wide, brown orbs searched nervously for any signs of movement.

  "The ambulance is on its way," someone called.

  "Scarlett?" Chloe asked. "C'mon, Scarlett, oh God, wake up...Scarlett?"

  "She's not breathing," Zoey said as she lifted her ear from Scarlett's chest.

  "HELLO!" This voice came from Scarlett's abandoned cell phone lying on the floor next to her hand.

  Millie picked it up. "Um...hi?" Her voice was shaky.

  "Where's Scar?"

  "Are you a friend?"

  "No, I'm her very best friend," Ginny answered. "Where the hell is she?"

  "Um...She just...fainted and now she's not breathing, and there's a large bruise on her head," Millie replied.

  "WHAT!" Ginny screeched.

  "Yeah, the ambulance is on the way, and here comes the school nurse. Look, I'm gonna hang up, but I'll…um…call you back?" Millie felt awkward talking to someone she didn't know.

  "No, you very well will not. You put this God damn phone up to Scar's ear, and I will revive her."

  "I don't think that's a good idea—"

  "I don't give a fucking shit about your opinion. Do it now!" Ginny yelled into the phone.

  Millie gave in and tentatively put the phone up to Scarlett's ear.

  She didn't know what Scarlett's friend said, but soon enough Scarlett's eyelashes fluttered, and she made a sort of moan.

  "Oh, thank God," about twenty people breathed.

  Millie, forgetting about the phone completely, dropped it and came to Scarlett's aid along with the rest of the student body.

  Nurse Adele shooed them away to give Scarlett room to breathe. They could all hear the ambulance pulling into the school parking lot, and soon enough Scarlett was lifted into the back of the ambulance and rushed to the nearest hospital while
her mother was called.

  * * *

  Beep...beep...beep...beep...beep. The emergency room that Tristan was in was silent except for the slow beeping of the heart monitor. Most of the juniors had been crowded in the little room along with Tristan's family the first day. It had been three days since the football incident and there had been no change in Tristan's recovery process. All of the students were kicked out by the doctors, but the family was permitted to stay.

  It was ten o'clock Monday night, and Mary and Bryan were both asleep on the leather couch while Julia, Tristan's mother, was sitting in a small, metal chair next to Tristan's bed. Her hand clutched Tristan's, and her thumb gently stroked the top of his pale hand. She looked into her son's face with sad eyes. Tristan's face was ghostly pale, and his eyes were sunken into his head with dark circles underneath his eyes.

  The door opened, and Julia looked up with tired eyes to see a male doctor enter with a clipboard.

  "Mrs. Cox, we just received the results of the tests taken earlier today," the doctor said in a grave and solemn voice. "There are seven different levels of consciousness. One starting with complete consciousness, and the seventh being comatose, which is the state that Tristan is in. The scientific definition is those in the state of comatose cannot make a response to stimuli, have neither corneal nor gag reflex, and they may have no pupillary response to light. In other words, they cannot be aroused."

  At this Julia started sobbing so loudly that Mary and Bryan both awoke in a confused daze.

  * * *

  It was eleven o'clock Monday night, and Rosa was passed out on the couch in Timothy's living room. Timothy had been alerted of Scarlett's accident and was now in the waiting room of the hospital she had been transported to.

  Finally a nurse came out with a clipboard. "Timothy Harman."

  Timothy stood up and followed the nurse to a dark room where Scarlett was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling above her head. Her red curls were spread on the pillow about her face making her look even paler than she was. Her dark eyelashes were motionless; she did not blink once. Her chest moved up and down, but ever so slowly, as if she was sleeping. But her glassy eyes were evidence to the fact that she was awake.

  Timothy looked down at her in pity. He hadn't known her for long, but he remembered his own daughter at this age, and his heart broke to think of what had happened to Scarlett today at school. Heartbreak was something that nobody could deal with swiftly.

  "Her head wound was slight. We've run tests—CAT Scans, MRIs, X-rays—and we came up empty handed," the nurse explained. "There isn't any serious head drama. Aside from the possibility of some intense headaches, she will be fine. Just give her some Ibuprofen or Advil to take away the pain."

  "Okay," Timothy replied quietly, still watching Scarlett's motionless body on the bed. "Can we leave now?"

  "As soon as you sign here." The nurse handed him the clipboard, and Timothy hurriedly signed it.

  As soon as he had signed the paper, he entered the room and sat on the bed by Scarlett, who was still staring up at the ceiling.

  "Scarlett?" Timothy asked gently.

  Scarlett's green, glossy eyes moved to look at Timothy's face, but she made no other movement or acknowledgement.

  "The nurse says we can go home now."

  Scarlett slowly pushed herself off the bed, slung her legs over the edge, and stood up. Her head still hurt, making her dizzy, but she was fine other than that. If she hadn't been so depressed, she would have thought that it was silly she had been taken to the hospital. It was only a bruise; nothing else. But she was depressed, after all.

  Scarlett followed her stepfather to his car and sat quietly in the passenger seat on the way to their apartment. Timothy watched Scarlett sadly as she ascended the steps to her room. Her shoulders were slumped, her head bent. This boy really must have meant something to her. Timothy had only known Scarlett for a few months now, but the time that he had known her, she was always a bubbly girl. She always had a smile plastered to her lips and witty comments flowing out of her mouth.

  As he watched her slowly close the door to her new room, an idea struck him. And it struck him good. He pulled out his cell phone and immediately hit speed dial #1.

  "Hey, dad."

  "Hey, Melody. I need you to do something for me."

  * * *

  Kyle, Tom, Sal, Parker, and the rest of the football team were crowded in the emergency room that Tristan was in. Tristan's mom and siblings had gone home to get some actual rest. The doctors said they would call her at the slightest change in anything. Mary and Bryan had taken the rest of the week off school so that they could be with their brother.

  Kyle, Tom, Sal, and Parker were whispering when they heard a silent groan escape Tristan's lips. And everyone went still. The room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. The entire football team stared wide-eyed at Tristan's pale form lying on the bed motionlessly. Nothing had changed on the monitors. Had they all imagined it? Had Tristan really made any noise at all? Had they only heard what they wanted to hear? But when he made another mumble, they all saw with amazement that his lips had moved just slightly.

  What they heard was barely above a whisper; it was so quiet they almost thought they dreamed it. But this time it actually made sense, "Scar."

  "Scar? What does that mean?" Hank, a football player, asked.

  "Scarlett was Tristan's girlfriend," Kyle explained. "She moved to Ohio last Friday."

  "So, what? He wants Scarlett?" Hank asked.

  "Apparently. I know this sounds too cheesy, but maybe if we could get Scarlett back down here. You know, just to visit him...?" Tom trailed off.

  "That would be a problem," Sal replied. "The last anyone heard was that Scarlett is in the hospital."

  The entire room went back to silence. All but one barely audible word was spoken. "Scarlett."

  * * *

  Meghan was sitting at home, quietly working on an essay due next Thursday when her cell phone buzzed on her bedside table. She hopped out of her desk chair, threw herself onto the bed, and clicked the green button, "Hello?"

  "Meg, it's Ginny," Ginny said from the other end of the phone.

  "Yes, I figured that since the caller ID said 'Ginny.'"

  "Shut up; anyways, I have fantabulous news and then I have terriful news."

  "Could you speak English?"

  "I have fantastic slash fabulous news and then I have terrible slash awful news," Ginny quickly translated.

  "Shoot."

  "Scar is not in the hospital! Apparently, she was released from the hospital on Monday, but no one down here knew about it."

  "Oh, thank God!" Meghan breathed a sigh of relief. "What's the not so great news?"

  "She's sort of in this depression. It's even worse than when her father died and her half-brother was sent to that asylum," Ginny replied, her voice darkening.

  "She-She is depressed?" Meghan stammered. "How are we going to help her?"

  "Yes. But I need you to spread the news. Go to Tristan's hospital and tell the football team; I heard that they are with him twenty-four seven. Go!"

  "Why can't you go?" Meghan asked. "I'm working on my history essay right now, so I'm kind of slammed—"

  "That essay isn't due until Wednesday!" Ginny retorted.

  "Thursday, but that doesn't mean you can't go," Meghan argued.

  "Well, the other reason I can't go to the hospital is because my parent's grounded me for sneaking out last night. You don't even realize how hard it was for me to steal my phone from my mother's locked drawer."

  "You're so stupid!" Meghan bellowed into the phone.

  "Yes, yes, I know. Now go tell the football team," Ginny said hurriedly.

  Meghan's heartbeat quickened. She knew that Ginny knew that she hated talking to anyone close to the B-list at school, let alone the A-listers; AKA the football team. Seriously, the football team? Nu-uh, no way, ain't gonna happen, zero percent, fat chance, make that a negative, not gonna hap
pen...

  "Why can't Kate go?"

  "Because she snuck out with me last night," Ginny answered. "So, she's grounded as well."

  "God, you're both moronic," Meghan grumbled.

  "Thank you, Captain Obvious. Now, get your ass down to the hospital."

  "And how is my telling the football team going to help with Scarlett's depression or Tristan's coma?" Meghan asked.

  "The football team has money. They're all filthy rich. And we need money to buy plane tickets."

  "We're going to see Scarlett?" Meghan asked.

  "I'm not sure yet. Maybe we can fly Scarlett down here. Whatever we do, we need money. Now go tell the football team and make it convincing," Ginny ordered.

  Meghan really didn't want to go and face the football team. But then Meghan thought of Scarlett and what she would have done in this situation, and some confidence built up in her chest.

  As Ginny had predicted, the entire football team was stuffed in Tristan's room—emergency room that is. There were quiet whispers here and there, but for the most part the room was deadly silent.

  Meghan silently slipped in; not one person noticed her presence. Normally she would have liked to keep it that way, but today was different. Meghan quietly cleared her throat; nobody turned in her direction. Rolling her eyes, Meghan coughed, "Hello?" That got their attention. She heard whispers of people asking, "What's she doing here?" But she ignored the harsh words and continued her mission.

  "I know you all have no idea what my name is, but right now I don't give a damn." Whoa, that was the first time she had cursed...aloud anyways. "But I have terminological inexactitude from the northern hemisphere."

  Everyone still looked at her with quizzical expressions. "In simpler terms, I have gossip to tell all of you from where Scarlett is," she translated into high school jock language.

  "Oohhhh," the idiotic football team said in union. Meghan rolled her eyes again.

  "Scar is not in the hospital anymore."

  Kyle and Tom stood up, happy smiles across their faces. "Can she come down here, like, pronto?" Tom asked, completely thrilled.