Page 54 of Switch!
“Hey. HEY!”
I feel Eddie pushing on my back. “Run!” he cries.
Like I need him to tell me that. Adrenaline shoots through me as I start booking it through the house. I might have muscle, and Eddie might be a stocky little scrapper, but I keep imagining the reach those long basketball-player arms have. I’ll never get in close, and I’m not looking for a fight anyway. Strange then that my temper continues to rise as we push our way through the crowd. We make it to the deck where a group of smokers are hanging out. I snarl at them, sending them scurrying out of the way. A skinny guy with a goatee isn’t quick enough. I shove him so hard that he falls. When I hear him call me a name, I stop, ball up my fists, and turn around.
“Say that again,” I dare him.
“What the hell, man?” I hear Eddie coming back up the deck stairs. He pulls on me until I turn. “We gotta go!”
I follow him and don’t look back until my feet hit the grass. The basketball player is at the top of the stairs. He’ll have no trouble catching up to us once we’re on even ground. Maybe I should wait and sweep his legs as he’s coming down the stairs. I’ll leap on him and beat his face in before he has a chance to recover.
“Come on!” Eddie says, yanking on me again. “What’s gotten into you?”
Good question. This isn’t me. I’ve never craved violence before, but I don’t have time to figure this out now. Eddie changes tactics and starts pushing me from behind. That gets me moving again. We race each other to his bike, where he struggles to get his keys in the ignition like a bad horror movie. When the engine finally snarls to life, he reaches for the helmets hanging on the handlebars and shoves mine into my hands while I continue to look over my shoulder. A giant is behind us and closing fast, so I swat Eddie on the back like I’m trying to spur a horse into a gallop. We still don’t move. I glance forward and notice him struggling to get his helmet on. I shove down on the top to help him, and when I glance back, the basketball player is way too close and reaching for me. I throw the pink helmet at him, my aim good, because the guy is forced to shield his head. The helmet bounces off his arms, and I almost end up on the street as the bike lurches forward.
I grab onto Eddie’s waist, certain a hand will grab the back of my shirt and yank me off. This doesn’t happen, but when I do look back, I see the basketball player running toward a car. His friends are already rushing to meet him there.
“He’s still coming after us,” I shout over the wind, “and he isn’t alone!”
“I’ve got this,” Eddie yells as he hunkers down.
I cling to him like it’s our honeymoon. We blow through a few intersections before he takes one turn and then another. I don’t see any sign of pursuit. I think we’re going to be okay. I’m cackling in manic relief when the bike goes over a hill, making my stomach drop. I swear the tires leave the ground for a second, but we land fine and continue down the other side of the hill.
“We’re good,” I shout. “You lost them!”
Eddie doesn’t seem to hear me. We’re heading for another intersection, the traffic signal turning yellow, so he twists the throttle. We shoot forward. There’s no way we’ll make it, but I don’t see any cars waiting at the juncture. Thankfully, because the signal is red now, and Eddie isn’t slowing. As we barrel through the intersection, he howls like a wolf. I’m about to join him when lights blind me momentarily. I turn my head just in time to see a car screeching to a halt. I can even see the panicked eyes of the driver as she yanks the wheel to avoid hitting us.
She isn’t fast enough. Her car clips the back wheel of the bike and the world begins to spin, lifting me off the seat. My hands lose their grip on Eddie as he’s torn away from me. I’m flying, my vision filled with streaking lights in a variety of colors. Then the street comes into focus and I realize that I’m falling. I remember diving into the lake with Sarah, but beneath me, the dark asphalt doesn’t look so yielding. I won’t break the surface this time. I’m afraid it’ll break me instead. I try to raise my arms to shield my head, but the force of the wind is too great or I’m too late because—
Pain! Then nothing. Merciful silence. I bask in it until I’m yanked back to consciousness. My ears are ringing as I gasp for breath. I can’t seem to make my eyes focus on anything. I feel like a fish on dry land. I can flop and twitch, but I can’t push myself up into a sitting position or even stand. When I open my mouth, wanting to call for help, the only sound that comes out is a wail.
My cheek is pressed against the pavement. I can see Eddie’s bike laying on its side further away, but he’s not on it. I watch as shoes approach me before wandering off again. I think I hear words, but I can’t make them out over the ringing in my ears, which has grown louder. Something hurts. Really bad. I focus on the pain just long enough to pinpoint that it’s coming from my head, but inside or out? Please let there still be a difference between the two. I struggle to move again and manage to shift myself. The next time my vision clears, I can finally see Eddie’s motionless body. He’s crumpled up like a puppet whose strings have been cut. I can’t tell if he’s dead or not.
The ringing in my ears worsens, intensifying until I cry out in anguish. It’s too loud! Flashing lights sear my eyes, so I clench them shut, but more pain takes its place. I scream in an attempt to vent the pressure. Why does my head feel so full? Like there isn’t enough room in my skull anymore.
Something grips my shoulder, and when I open my eyes, I see the face of a man framed by street lights and an overcast sky. His jacket is neon green and covered in patches. A paramedic! I struggle to make him understand my situation, but the only word I can get out is, “Hurts.”
His mouth is moving. I can hear his voice, but the sounds are nonsense to me. My body starts to tremble. Ironic, because I was struggling to move before, and now I can’t get my body to stop. I’m shaking like volts of electricity are coursing through me. A seizure? I don’t know. I’m relieved when my body goes still again. Until I notice the panic in the paramedic’s eyes. He doesn’t think I’m going to survive this.
I want to go home. I want to lock myself in my bedroom with all of my books. I want to put a T-shirt on the floor to plug the gap beneath my door so I don’t have to smell my mother’s smoking. I want my biggest problem to be bullies at school or a step-dad who can’t keep his hands to himself. I’ll take just about anything over this grueling pain and soul-crushing fear. I don’t want to die!
I think of the black void I used to swim through to reach Caleb and wonder if it’s all that awaits me. A thousand miles separate me from my original body. Can I find my way back there? It’s worth a shot. If I fail, at least I’ll no longer be in agony. Drowning in oblivion would be preferable to this.
“Hey! Stick with me. Come on, champ. Don’t go anywhere!”
I can barely hear the paramedic over the ringing in my ears. The seizure has resumed. My world is growing dark. It’s too late. My time is up. The last thing I’ll see are sympathetic blue eyes filled with tears. He has a kind face, whoever he is. I try to reach for him, needing the comfort of another human being because I’m scared. I can’t move my arms, but I keep trying, even when my vision goes black and—
Depressed skull fracture.
The world flip-flops. I’m no longer on my back. Instead I’m looking down at myself—at Caleb—but it’s hard to recognize him beneath all the blood. His forehead resembles a pumpkin that someone kicked in. I recoil from the nightmarish vision, unable to cope with it.
His brain must be hemorrhaging, his skull filling with blood. I don’t think I’ll get him stabilized in time. The poor kid. What is he, a teenager? Come on. Don’t give up on me!
Caleb’s eyes are glassy and lifeless. Hands move in front of me, like they’re my own, but I’m not controlling them as they put a transparent plastic—
Resuscitation mask.
—resuscitation mask over Caleb’s face to get him breathing again, but it’s no good. Chest compressions don’t help either. Fingers press against his wrist, and then his neck, searching for a pulse.
