Page 2 of Zone Protection

Seconds later, alarms begin beeping, and nurses rush into the room. My dad grabs my shoulders and pulls me away from the bed and into the corner of the room while Mom cries out for a nurse. The nurses move to Sunny’s bed as Dad pulls Mom by the waist and out of the way.

Then the doctor comes in. “Someone, get the family out of the room.”

One of the nurses walks over to us. “Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, we’re going to take you to the waiting room just a few doors down. Let us see what’s going on, and we’ll come get you as soon as we can.”

My mom’s hands are covering her mouth, and tears are starting to fall down her face. “I’m not leaving my baby.” Her hands drop from her face, and she yells, “I won’t get in the way, I promise! But I’m not leaving my baby!”

Another nurse enters from the hall and comes over to me. “Hey, sugar. Let’s go into the other room for a bit. I’ll stay with you in there until your mom and dad come in, okay?”

She doesn’t wait for me to answer. She takes my hand and leads me out. As I leave the room, I look back to see my dadwrapping his arms around my mom. They watch with wide eyes and open mouths as the doctor and nurses fuss over Sunny.

The nurse keeps calling me sugar and tries to be nice by giving me soda and snacks from the vending machine, but I just want my mom and dad. I want my sister.

My parents never come into the room I’m in with the other nurse.

Everything seems to happen so fast, but the wait is forever …

Death isn’t something you really understand when you’re nine years old. And I can’t believe my sister is gone. My mom can hardly speak because she’s crying so hard. My dad, he is crying and holding me tighter than he ever has.

I’m not sure how we ended up at the little church at the hospital, but we’ve sat there all night, wrapped in each other’s arms. My shirt is wet from our tears, and all I keep thinking about is how much this hurts and how much I never want to feel like this again.

CHAPTER

ONE

EMMA—NOW

The last placeI want to be tonight is at a party at some football player’s house. My next paper for my Organic Chemistry class is due on Tuesday and isn’t going to write itself. But my roommates—who are also my teammates on Walker University women’s golf team—have dragged me out, thinking I need to let off some steam and have a little fun.

Our first tournament in California wasn’t my finest performance, and the pressure I feel from my course load this semester is enough to drive an average person crazy. I’ll compartmentalize it, as I usually do, and keep moving, but my friends might be right. I’m a perfectionist to a fault, and admittedly, I take on more than I should from time to time.

Okay, all the time, but I can’t help it. So, maybe I should just let myself have some fun tonight.

Problem is, this house is filled with ego-driven fuckboys. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve played around with my fair share, but I’m just not in the mood tonight. The music is too loud, most of the girls here are decked out in their short skirts while I’m in jeans and a cropped T-shirt, and it smells like a distillery in here.I feel like one drop of a match, and this place would go up in flames just because of the amount of alcohol in here alone.

Which surprises me a little bit, to be honest. The football team won today, so they deserve to celebrate, but most athletes don’t drink too heavily during the season. Or at least the ones who plan to take their career past college.

I don’t plan on playing golf beyond my college years. My track has been clear to me since my sister died when I was only nine years old. I need to finish my four years here at Walker near the top of my class in order to get into the best med schools. Right now, my top choices are NYU, Case Western Reserve, and Duke. They have the best pediatric cardiology programs, which is what my specialty will be.

“Emma, did you hear me?” my friend Olivia Lewis—aka Livi—asks.

“I can barely hear anything in here. What did you say?” I lean in closer to her to hear her more clearly.

“You need to get out of your head. Your paper will still be there tomorrow. This place is swimming with endless possibilities. I feel like you need to get laid. Like not only let loose and have a few drinks, but you need to get some D, my friend.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and laughs.

“Why is sex the only avenue to letting loose?”

“Because if sitting in your room and studying released tension, you wouldn’t have gotten a double bogey on a par three.”

“I blame the wind.”

“I blame your inability to get out of your head, and the way you’re gonna do that is by using your body with the next fuckboy who walks into this room.”

Just as she says it, a loud boom of a voice comes from the doorway. Now, I’m standing next to the speaker, but I can still hear Archie Griffith’s voice over the sound.

“Ladies and dicks, the party can begin. I have arrived! Let’s get fucked up, motherfuckers! Cowboy up!” he yells, thengallops. Yes, he gallops into the room and straight for my other two friends, Peyton Adams and Mia Wallace, who are dancing on the makeshift dance floor in what is probably the dining room.

“Holy shit, that man is a snack!” Livi laughs.

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