What in the ever-loving hell is going on? Jake, what have you done?
Jake leaned in to kiss me a second time, and I spat in his face. With a growl of disgust, he pushed me away so hard that I landed on my butt—not really a place you wanted to be in a fight. Jumping to my feet, I had just assumed a fighting stance when I heard sirens in the distance. I knew they were coming for us. The demi-demons scattered, disappearing into the night.
I scrambled toward Chay, who was lying on his side on the ground, and Drew, who was facedown a few feet from him. I came to Drew first. For a second, I was paralyzed with fear at what I might find if I touched one of them. I could feel the tears building in my eyes and a ball of pain gathering in my chest. I placed my hand on Drew’s back and let out a huge breath when I felt it move up and down.
Breathing. Good. That’s good.
“Muriel! Jen! Hey!” I motioned them to Drew.
I knelt down to look at what I could see of Drew’s face and jerked back.
Oh no, no! Get someone. Ambulance…
My hands shook as I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I pushed the button for emergency and slid it across the pavement to Jeff. “Jeff! Ambulance.” He grabbed my phone and gave me a thumbs-up.
Drew. Okay, Jen has him. Chay.
I hurried to Chay. I put my hand on his chest and let out a half laugh, half sob when my hand moved up and down with his breaths. “Chay?” I smoothed his soft, dark hair off his forehead and replaced it with my lips. “Can you hear me?” My breath came in small pants, and my heart thundered in my chest so hard I thought it would burst free.
Please, please be okay.
“Yeah,” Chay muttered.
Okay, okay, he’s talking. That’s good. It’s even a one-word answer. That’s so typically him. So we’re good. Okay.
“Where are you hurt?
“I hurt friggin’ everywhere. Help me up.” Chay started to push himself into a sitting position.
“No, no. I think you should wait for the ambulance before you get up.”
“Crap, Milayna, tell me you didn’t call an ambulance.” He let out a frustrated breath and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Well, I guess you’re not hurt too badly. Your pissy attitude is still intact. And, yeah, Jeff called an ambulance because while I’m over here talking to you, everyone else is over there, trying to get Drew to wake up. He hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“What?” Chay jumped up. “Whoa.” He held his hands out from his sides. I grabbed him around the waist to support him. “The ground is moving.”
“See, you need to go to the hospital and get checked. You’re dizzy. You might have a concussion.”
“I’m not dizzy. My feet are just wobbly.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, Chay.” I knelt next to Drew. The ambulance had just pulled into the parking lot, and the EMTs were unloading their equipment. “Is he awake?” I looked at Muriel. Her mouth was turned down.
“He answered some questions when we asked him, but he didn’t open his eyes.”
“Move out of the way, kids. Let us through.” The medics shouldered through us.
Muriel, Jen, Jeff, and I watched while the EMTs loaded Chay and Drew into the ambulance.
“What hospital are you taking them to?” Muriel asked.
“St. Mary’s.” The EMT got into the ambulance and it drove out of the parking lot, lights flashing.
***
We followed the ambulance to the hospital. We weren’t allowed to see Drew or Chay because we weren’t family. Pacing the emergency room waiting area, we raided the vending machines and waited, not too patiently, for news. Drew and Chay’s parents met us there and kept us updated on their condition.
It didn’t take long for the doctor to finish his assessment of Chay. He told Chay’s parents that his head CT scan was clear, and his ribs weren’t broken like they feared, but if they wanted to be cautious, the hospital would admit him for a twenty-four-hour observation period, but he really didn’t see the need. I was sure it had more to do with Chay’s unbearable attitude and the doctor’s eagerness to get away from him. Mr. and Mrs. Roberts took Chay home, making me promise to keep them updated on Drew’s condition.
Drew’s parents rarely left his bedside. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, although he would respond to some stimuli. When we asked what was wrong, the nurses would only say a doctor would have to determine his diagnosis. I didn’t like that answer. Around midnight, Drew’s parents sent us home, promising they would contact us as soon as they knew something.
“Now what?” Jeff asked.
We stood in the hospital parking lot, frozen. We didn’t talk, move, I wasn’t sure we even saw what was in front of us, but rather the images of Chay and Drew beaten, bloodied, and unconscious on the ground.