Page 48 of I Would Stay Forever
“She deserved it,” I replied.
He grinned and he shifted, moving an inch away from me. Not so close that we were pressed up against each other, butalso not so far away that an onlooker would assume we were just friends.
“Who’s the girl that Sebastian’s been hanging around with?” he asked curiously.
“Nobody,” I sighed. Maybe I could have thought of a girl in the grade who would be interested in Sebastian—the number was large—but I didn’t want him carrying that information back to my brother. “I just wanted her off his back. They’re broken up for good.”
Dean took a sip of his drink, then mumbled, “I hope you’re right.”
In the past week, it hadn’t occurred to me that Sebastian might break his promise. I couldn’t think of any reason he would ever want to go back to her. But now, with the look on Dean’s face, I wondered if maybe I was wrong. “Why, has he said something to you?”
Dean shrugged. “No, I really meant I hope you’re right. Actually, this past week, he seemed really steadfast in it. Told me he wasn’t going to go back to her no matter what.”
I let out a small sigh of relief. “Good, that’s what he told me too.”
But the seed of doubt had been planted. Tiffany wasn’t done with Sebastian, no matter how he felt about her, and I’d seen over the years how persuasive she could be. As I watched her pull Ashton’s face to hers, I started to get this weird feeling in my gut that somehow this wasn’t over.
twenty-three
“HaveI told you I hate you lately?” I asked Molly through gasps of air.
“I think it’s been at least ten minutes,” she said from the next treadmill over. I took some satisfaction in noticing that she was even more out of breath than I was. I didn’t waste my time in repeating how much I hate her, but from the next treadmill over, Paige chimed in with it. A second later, Molly’s phone beeped with the end of the timer and we all practically collapsed off the treadmills and onto the gym floor. I didn’t even want to think about how disgusting the ground must have been as I sat on it, feeling like my lungs couldn’t get enough air.
“Let’s do sprints,” Zoey said mockingly, glaring in Molly’s direction. “It’ll be fun.”
Molly held a finger, like she was ready to argue but didn’t have the breath to actually say anything. It took her a minute before she could gasp out, “I didn’t say fun, I said effective.”
The rest of us just rolled our eyes and groaned. As our team captain, Molly had been on our case this year about being in the best shape possible, which had extended into her forcing us to come to the gym—on aSunday—to do sprints on the treadmill
“Lavender,” Zoey said, dragging the word out. It took herculean effort for me to lift my head to look at her. She was the furthest away from me, at the far end of the set of treadmills and almost up against the door of the gym. She was lying flat on her back, her arms stretched out like she was trying to make a snow angel on the mats.
“What?” I asked because she didn’t say anything else. She raised one hand at the wrist, her arm still pressed against the mat, and waved it around. I just stared at her, trying to figure out what she could possibly mean but not following at all. “Zoey, use your words. I can’t understand you.”
She groaned like that was the biggest ask I could ever make of her.
“Your phone. Ringing,” she said, still flailing her hand about. I realized she was trying to gesture to our bags, which we’d piled up by the glass door—and also felt about a million kilometers away from me.
“Can you see who’s calling?” I asked. I’d left my phone sitting on top of my bag so it wouldn’t get lost in my stuff, so it should be visible to her.
She groaned again but looked. “Imogen.”
I frowned. Imogen wasn’t the type to call me out of the blue, and I’d just seen her a couple of hours ago at home. I forced myself to get to my feet and stumbled over to the pile of bags, feeling like my legs were shaking under me.
“Two minute warning,” Molly said. “Then we go again.”
Zoey and Paige groaned, but I barely heard her as I glanced at my lock screen and realized I’d missed three calls from Imogen already. Something was definitely wrong. I was pretty sure I mumbled abe right backto my friends, but I couldn’t even be sure because my heart was pounding so hard that it was stealing all my focus. In the time it took me to step into the hall, the ringing ended and I got a fourth missed call notification, but Iwasted no time in calling her back. It only took one ring for her to answer, one minute for her to explain what was going on, and another for me to tell my friends that I had to go and would see them at school tomorrow, before taking off in my car.
I’d never been to Trinity Hospital. It was far from our house, on the far side of Crofton Academy, and not as big as North Glen Hospital where Mum worked, so there was no reason I would ever have to go there—which only made it that much more confusing that Imogen was currently there, awaiting an X-ray.
The urgent care was bright with yellow linoleum floors and light blue walls that made it seem like it was trying not to feel like a hospital, even though that was exactly what it was. The waiting room was filled with rows of empty chairs and a large desk that reminded me of the guidance office, where a woman in cherry-print scrubs asked, “Can I help you?”
I opened my mouth, ready to say that I was looking for someone, but before I could get a single syllable out, a body was flying toward me. My sister leaned all her weight into me, sobbing into my shoulder as she wrapped an arm around me in an awkward hug. I hugged her back tightly, only letting go once I noticed her wince. I pulled away just as quickly and held her shoulders so I could get a better look at her. She hadn’t said much on the phone, other than that she was at urgent care in Trinity Hospital and she really wanted me there. She’d tried to say more but it was hard to understand her through all her tears, so I’d just reassured I’d be there soon.
Looking at her now, I wished I’d pressed for more details.
Her face was pale, and there was a bruise darkening around one eye, swollen and already turning purple. Scrapes coveredher knees and elbows, and she was cradling one arm—that must have been the X-ray she was talking about on the phone. My stomach dropped. “Imogen...”
“I’m okay.” She forced a smile on her face, but it was wobbly. She used her good hand to swipe away the stray tears running down her face. I gently pushed her toward the closest chair and sat down next to her.
