No, I was right.
I’m in the ER surrounded by noise. I apped myself to the woods behind the hospital parking lot and sprinted through the sedans, SUVs, and minivans. Having barreled through the sliding glass doors into the waiting room, the blaring TV, crying babies, and chattering nurses momentarily overwhelm me.
I struggle to catch my breath while scanning the crowded room for Nate. Finally, I see him, huddled in the far corner with a young girl who must be his sister and two older adults who are most likely his grandparents.
My rush of adrenaline plummets. My feet won’t budge. The effects of the caffeine long gone, the leftover acid gnaws at my stomach lining. I shut my eyes and breathe, steadying my rapid pulse. When I open my eyes, a man in green scrubs is crossing the room, approaching Nate and his family.
The din of the ER fades into the background. The doctor gets farther from me but closer to Nate. I’m no good at judging distances but I have to be at least twenty feet back. That far away and still I can read his mind.
My throat tightens, my knees buckle. I’m dizzy. It can’t be. It just can’t be. My feeble attempt at mind control doesn’t stop the doctor from saying what he’s about to say.
I plunge deeper into the doctor’s mind: internal bleeding, ruptured lung, trauma to the head, gone before he arrived. Gone. Gone. Nothing we could do. Nothing anyone could do.
Anyone, not even me? Was there nothing I could do to save Nate’s father?
Gone before I even got here. Before I had a chance to do anything. How can that be? Did I waste time lying on a blanket, snacking on sugary almonds when I was supposed to be here? Did I waste time feeling sorry for myself, eating stale doughnuts in the concession stand? Is this all my fault? Did I miss out on being able to grant Nate the most important wish of his life? Was this not the wish I was supposed to grant? Was this not why Nate was chosen as a candidate? What could make him more deserving of a wish than this?
I can’t look at Nate’s face as the doctor tells him the news. I can’t hear his thoughts. I can’t bear the pain of hearing his thoughts. Selfishly, I shut him out. I shut everyone out. My heart is breaking. Nausea churns my insides. My breathing is rapid, irregular. I want to app away from here, far away. It’s too much. Everything that’s happened tonight, and now, this too, it’s just too much.
I back up until I hit the wall behind me. I lean against it and steal a glance at Nate. His eyes are welded shut, and he’s clutching his sister so tightly I’m afraid he might crush her. If I think it’d be painful to hear Nate’s thoughts, what must it be like to be Nate, to be the one thinking those thoughts?
I think of Jenny, and I know. I think of the Afrit taking my mother, and I know. I think of the Afrit erasing Henry’s mind, and I know.
I also know, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here, whether he needs me or not, I won’t leave him. If he has to take this, so do I.
I tune back in to the doctor who’s telling them about Nate’s mother. Facial lacerations, broken ribs, significant blood loss. The older woman, who my mind-reading confirms is their grandmother and Mrs. Reese’s mother, holds her breath through it all. But when the doctor says “investigating possible spinal cord damage,” she releases a moan, too soft for me to hear externally, but the strength of the one inside her head almost knocks me off my feet.
Nate and his grandmother follow the doctor to see his mother. In her grandfather’s arms, Megan folds in on herself, hands tight against her chest, head hanging down, knees bent—the equivalent of a standing fetal position. I take the nearest seat and try not to lose it.
My head between my knees, I feel a hand rubbing my back. I look up. Henry. I fly out of the chair and throw myself against his chest with such force that we almost fall to the ground. Like Nate, he has long, strong swimmer’s arms. They envelop me, and that’s it. I lose control.
Now that Henry’s here, I give in to my fear, my guilt, my worry, my … pain. I’m dragging out a memory from the furthest reaches of my brain, but the details are just beyond my grasp. But the feeling, the feeling comes. A hurt so raw and deep, it surpasses even this. I’m small and being held by some other boy’s arms. Some other boy’s arms that have the same ability as Henry to ground me, to make me feel like the world is not ending. The memory retreats, scurrying back to the dusty corners of my mind, but the feeling remains.
“Breathe, Azra, just breathe,” Henry says.
Chelsea comes up next to us and rests her hand on Henry’s shoulder. Tears fall down her cheeks … her freckled cheeks. Weird that this is the first time I’ve noticed the smattering of cute little dots. I stare at them, mentally drawing lines between them. Somehow, it is these tiny speckles that soften her to me, and then soften me toward her.
She lays a hand on my forearm. “They’re not … Nate’s parents … they’re not…” Chelsea is unable to say the words.
I don’t make her. I look into her sympathetic eyes and whisper, “Just his father.” Just.
Finally, I push myself back from Henry. I take the tissue offered by Chelsea and blow my nose. She hands me another one and I blow again, still leaning one shoulder against Henry.
“Az.” Henry lifts his chin, gesturing to the other side of the room.
Nate and his grandmother are returning to his sister, grandfather, and a few other family members and friends who have arrived. The entire group shares the same tortured expression.