Page 78 of Dungeons and Drama

“We’ll make this work,” she tells me again. Her face breaks into a small smile. “The show must go on.”

I swallow a lump in my throat and head for class. First period comes and goes without me thinking of anything but the performance. I’m still a ball of nerves in geometry when the door opens and an office worker hands a note to our teacher.

Mr. Fleishman frowns and flicks his eyes up to me. “Riley? You have a call from your mother in the office.”

A prickle of fear goes through me, pushing away my obsessive theater thoughts. Mom is calling? At nine in the morning? Central has a strict no cell phone policy during class, so I haven’t been able to check for messages lately, but usually she’ll just text and I can reply between classes or during lunch. If she can’t wait, something must be seriously wrong.

Hoshiko glances over at me with wide eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper. I stumble out of my seat and out the door, knowing the whole class is staring. I zoom through the hallway, down the stairs, and through another hall, practically running by the end. My body was jangling with anxiety before this, and now I’m like a live wire. When I get into the office, the assistant hands me the phone without a word.

“Mom?”

“Riley. I’m so sorry to call you out of class but your dad…” She pauses and fear tightens around my chest. “He’s in the hospital. I just got a call from Curtis at the store. They were both there early catching up on stocking and I guess your father started having chest pains and trouble breathing so they called an ambulance and—”

“Is Dad still alive?” I can barely get the words out—they scrape against the back of my throat painfully.

“Yes. Yes, he’s alive.”

I unclench slightly. All eyes in the office are on me. They aren’t pretending to give me privacy or acting like they’re working. I keep my own eyes glued on the Post-it notes on the desk.

“Was it a heart attack? Is he going to be all right?”

“I don’t know. I only know what Curtis told me—that an ambulance came to pick him up and he’s being admitted to the emergency room. I thought about not calling until I knew more—I know you have your performance after school today and I’m so sorry…but it didn’t feel right not telling you. I’m heading to the hospital now. Do you want me to—”

“Come pick me up. I want to be there with you.” I swallow tears. “And Dad.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I think I hand the phone to someone and sit down. When Mom comes into the office, I’m holding a cup of water and I don’t know how it got in my hand. All I can think about is Dad. What if it was a heart attack? What if they didn’t call 911 in time and he died on his way to the hospital? What if Mom tells me we weren’t fast enough and now he’s gone? Memories of the last time we were together revolve through my mind. His expression when I told him I was quitting…the sharpness of my words when I accused him of not trying hard enough to spend time with me…Why did I say those things? Why didn’t I go to the store last night? I should have gone. I should never have quit in the first place—it was selfish of me. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to him.

I grab Mom’s hands as soon as she’s close and search her face for signs of more horrible news.

She squeezes softly and shakes her head. “No more news yet, which is a good thing.”

I exhale. There’s still time to see him and make this right.

The car ride is silent, but my chest tightens further as we pull into the parking lot and walk into the emergency room. How can this parking lot look so normal? How can people drive past like nothing is happening? Don’t they know my father is in here? Everyone should stop and take a moment to think of him.

Mom sits down next to me after talking to the person at the desk. “He’s back for testing. She warned me it could be a while and we should get comfortable.”

I know this isn’t “good” news, but it feels like it. If they’re running tests, it means he isn’t dead or close to it or they’d be standing over his bed with those big paddles they rub together on hospital dramas.

She gives my shoulder a little squeeze. The waiting room is almost empty and quiet this early in the morning. This hospital is small and a little run-down, with fake pumpkins and fall foliage in the corners of the waiting room and an old TV playing a morning game show. It’s the opposite of warm and welcoming.

Mom pulls out her phone and I follow suit. I haven’t looked at it since before second period and now I see it’s flooded with texts. Hoshiko has sent at least ten and a quick skim shows me her increasing worry. She usually uses a ton of emojis and exclamation points, but whenever she’s upset, her texts get a lot more subdued.

People are saying your dad is in the hospital. Is that true? Are you okay? I’m so sorry

We’re all freaking out. The guys are talking about skipping out on school

My heart twists to see her messages. I reply, telling her everything we know.

I expect her reply to be immediate, but of course she’s in class and won’t be able to check her messages until she’s between classes. The thought brings me back to the reality of today. The showcase—themeeting—is happening this afternoon. We’re scheduled to rehearse one last time directly after school and then I’ll present my proposal to everyone, and we’ll perform at four. I shake my head absently. There’s notelling how long Dad will be here. It could be hours, maybe overnight or even longer, depending on what the doctors find.

I expect heartbreak to wash over me at the idea of missing the meeting. Instead, I can barely feel anything for it at all.

I’ll text you again when we know more. I’m so sorry about missing today. Maybe tell Miss Sahni to cancel the meeting?

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