Page 4 of Crash into me

“A fucking do-not-resuscitate?”Grace is here, screaming. Whipping papers around, I can hear the whoosh and feel the breeze as she does so.

“Her father said—” Mom tries to speak, but Grace isn’t having it.

She slams her hand against a table. “I don’t give a shit what her father says. This is absurd!”

“You teach her ballet! You know nothing about her!” Mom yells.

Kate soothes Grace. “Let’s go,” she cries quietly. “I need to talk to you.”

I fall further away.

Tumbling, and tumbling, and tumbling.

I want my mom to make me soup.

I miss Kate.

Where am I? Why am I not moving?

And then …

I wake up.

My eyes don’t slowly ease open; they fly like they haven’t seen light in decades, it blinds me.

I adjust to the quiet room.

I’m alone.

No, there’s a sad looking boy sleeping beside me. His head propped on the bed; long legs scattered against the speckled floor.

Speaking is difficult; my throat is so dry. I cough, my heart rate monitor flying off the radar. “You’re up.” Relief smothers him. He peers up through sleepy eyes, collapsing his hand onto mine.

I shake my head, pulling my hand from his. “Who are you?”

3

“Help! She’s awake!” a nurse frantically calls out.

A frenzy of footfalls gathers around me. The sad boy gets up and heads to talk to the nurse. His whisper is deep, “She doesn’t remember me.”

The nurse grabs his face sweetly. “This is normal dear. Let her wake up a little more.”

“This can’t be happening,” he whispers in disbelief.

“Foster, calm down,” she tries to soothe him.

A doctor rushes in, flashing a small flashlight in my eyes. Everything seems to be chaotic and slow at the same time. He writes some info down on his clipboard and tells me he’ll be back soon and for me to rest.

I’ve been resting forever.

There are still wires and needles attached to me, bandages covering scarred skin and healing bruises.

Mom pushes some rogue hairs from my face, and Kate sits by my feet. To my left, nurses are fussing with my IVs and to my right stands the tall, sad boy covered in ink. His thick brows are creased in worry as he keeps his eyes trained on me.

Behind him sits a small bed with a little girl filled with tubes and surrounded by machines. “What … what happened?” I croak.

Kate slides her hand in mine. “You were in an accident.”

---