It was the buzzing that woke Brynna up. It was constant and excessive, and Brynna couldn’t tell if it was inside her head or outside. Inside, she guessed, because her head ached like nothing else had before, a constant, sickening pulse that shot nauseating waves to her gut.
“Ugh,” she moaned. “Ughhh…” Her body felt foreign and restrained. Something pinched at her arm, and her hand—just one of them though—was ice cold. It made her fingertips hurt.
“Brynna?”
Her mother was at the side of her bed, and Brynna liked the cool feel as she pressed her palm against Brynna’s cheek. “Oh, thank god, Brynna.”
“She’s awake?”
Brynna finally pulled her eyes open, but it was like blinking through a thick coating of Elmer’s glue.
“Mom? Dad?” Her parents were blurry blobs in front of her. They swirled and straightened and then the details came into view. Her mother’s face, drawn, pale. Her father, his cheeks ruddy and purplish, his eyes glazed.
“Don’t try and move. Don’t try and do anything.”
Brynna shifted in her bed and then looked around. “Am I—is this the hospital?”
“Where the hell else did you expect to end up?”
“Adam, stop!”
Brynna watched her mother bat at her father and then block him from her view. “Brynna, honey, if you were having problems, you could tell us. If you were so unhappy.”
“I don’t understand—why—” Brynna paused, the whole ordeal flooding back to her.
“You drank a whole bottle of Nyquil, Bryn. And you took pills.”
“And whose fault is that, Adam? Why were those even in the house? You know she’s an addict. We don’t keep temptation in the house!”
Brynna broke out in a cold sweat, her stomach twisting in knots. “Stop! Stop it you, guys! Please!”
Her parents turned as if they just realized she was in the room. Brynna opened her mouth and then closed it when there was a knock at the door. A nurse poked her head in, smiled warmly at Brynna and said, “Your friend is here to see you.”
“One second, please.”
“It was an accident,” Brynna whispered, feeling tears at the edges of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
Her father sighed but looked resigned. Her mother wouldn’t look at her at all.
“We’ll talk about this with Dr. Rother later,” was all her mother said as they followed the nurse out the door.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt—” Brynna heard from the hallway.
She perked up, surprised as the little blond came into her room. Darcy’s pale features looked even more washed out under the harsh fluorescent lights. She shifted the miniature rose she was holding from one hand to the other before she placed it on Brynna’s nightstand. Brynna instinctively pulled her blanket up to her chin, trying to hide she didn’t know what, wondering how much Darcy knew.
“Hey, Darcy,” she said.
“If it blooms, they’re supposed to be yellow,” Darcy said, gesturing to the plant. “You know, the color of friendship or whatever. And the balloon is cheesy but it came with.”
Brynna glanced at the mini Mylar balloon, a Blue’s Clues knock-off barking “Being Sick is Ruff!” She broke into a soft smile.
“It’s great, thanks.”
“So, I’m sorry about the pool.”
Brynna blinked. “The pool? I was the one who dive-bombed you.”
“No. I know you were just trying to help…because you thought I was drowning or whatever. I wasn’t, but that was nice of you. So thanks.”
Brynna felt the blood rush to her cheeks and was certain that her vitals would pick up the spike in her blood pressure. She had plunged into the pool to rescue a perfectly adequate swimmer, and then she went catatonic in the shallow end.
“I guess you think I’m kind of a freak, huh?” She played with the satin edging on the pale yellow blanket.
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
The girls each studied opposite walls for a beat before Darcy, without turning, spoke. “I know you were there that night.”
Brynna held her breath, her eyes wide and fastening to Darcy’s profile.
“I know what happened to you.”
Brynna’s lips felt like they wouldn’t work, and this time it wasn’t because of the Nyquil. “Wh—what are you talking about, Darcy?”
Darcy turned to face her. “At Point Lobos. The night your friend died. I know that you were there.”
Brynna felt her mouth fall open.
“Don’t worry.” Darcy rushed up close. “I’m not going to say anything about it. It’s just that your name sounded familiar. My dad is a photojournalist. He was there that whole month. I help him develop his pictures, and I saw—I remember you.”
Brynna felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. “What?”