Her feet were planted just inside the doorway, and she jumped when Shelby’s door snapped closed. Riley felt unable to move her feet forward. She felt smothered by the sterility of the room, like she had no right to be there, no right to grieve for her friend.
“Shel?” she asked again, this time taking a step, moving herself forward enough to peek around the curtain half-drawn around Shelby’s bed.
Riley’s heart dropped.
She shoved the curtain aside and raced to Shelby’s bedside, trying to find some semblance of her best friend under the tubes and bandages and measures and beeps of the hospital equipment.
Shelby’s face was almost completely covered in a thick layer of gauze. Its edges were tinged with rust-colored blood, dried against her skin. What wasn’t covered was bulbous and ruined, scratches, bruises, and cuts made glossy by some kind of ointment. A ventilator tube was taped to her mouth and something else to her chest; tubes were held to Shelby’s arm by thick needles. One was an IV; the other seemed to be feeding her blood. The blankets were tucked tightly around her torso, her one leg protruding, encased in an enormous cast, propped up by some kind of sling.
Riley felt the tears prick behind her eyes. Shelby’s toes poked out of the cast, the ladybug pedicure that Riley had given her during their last sleepover badly chipped.
“I’m so sorry, Shelby,” Riley said softly, her hand finding Shelby’s among the bandages and tubes. “This is all my fault.”
Riley gave Shelby’s hand a gentle squeeze, trying not to focus on how limp and lifeless it seemed. “I never thought—if I had listened to you, none of this would’ve ever happened. You wouldn’t be here.” A tear rolled off the end of Riley’s nose. “And now they want me to move.”
The machine that monitored Shelby’s heart beat along steadily, neither Riley’s touch nor words making any difference.
“They’re trying to make me leave,” Riley continued, squeezing Shelby’s hand again delicately, “but I’m not going to. I can’t. Not with you like this.” Riley sniffled, hoping to find her best friend somewhere underneath all this damage. “We’re going to catch the guy who did this to you, Shelby, I promise you that. But you have to promise me something too. You have to promise to get better.” Riley’s voice cracked, but she went on. “Promise me. We’re supposed to go to college together and share a dorm room.”
In the back of her mind, Riley saw her parents sitting on either side of her, Deputy Hempstead explaining Riley’s “new life.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Riley swore. “No matter what happens. But you can’t leave me either. You just can’t. You’re my best friend, Shelby. Please, please wake up. I need you. I need you and I’m so, so sorry. I hope you can hear me.”
She sat down in the chair next to Shelby’s bed and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. “I’m staying here with you, Shelby, because you’re going to be OK. It’s kind of like one of our normal sleepovers, right?” She forced herself to smile. “Except this time you get the bed.”
Riley rested her cheek on her knees, the steady beep of Shelby’s heart lulling her to sleep, until the blaze of her cell phone cut through the relative calm of the room. She checked the readout: Dad’s Cell. Her heart thudded as she sent the call to voicemail.
“I’m not going to disappear with them,” Riley said, standing up and looking over Shelby again. “I’m not Jane Elizabeth. I’m Riley Spencer, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Riley pulled the chair up against Shelby’s bed and curled up in it, holding Shelby’s hand until she fell asleep.
? ? ?
“Riley, Riley.” Someone was jiggling her shoulder, and a flood of sunlight was stinging her eyes.
“What time is it?”
“It’s six a.m.”
Riley blinked and sat up, every muscle in her body aching. She blinked, the room—and her wake-up call—coming into focus.
“Mrs. Webber?”
She smiled thinly. “I came back in last night and you had fallen asleep. I didn’t want to wake you. I think Shelby liked that you were here.”
Shelby.
Riley jumped to her feet, the blanket Mrs. Webber must have pulled over her pooling on the ground. “Shelby?” Riley leaned over her friend’s bed, her heart breaking all over again as she saw Shelby in the light now, the cuts and bruises looking more menacing, more devastating. “Did she—did she wake up?”
Mrs. Webber put a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “No, honey, not yet.”
Riley sucked in a sob.
“Why don’t you and your friend go home now? You need to get ready for school. And please thank your parents for letting you stay here with Shelby last night. I tried to call but I must have the number to the old house. It kept saying it was disconnected.”
Riley nodded, unable to speak. She kissed Shelby’s hand and silently wished for her to wake up then hugged Mrs. Webber and stepped out into the hall. It was bustling and busy now, nurses race-walking past her, pushing carts and wheeling around IV bags.
Riley’s mind raced. She’d have to get home. She pulled out her cell phone and her stomach dropped as the missed call register filled up her entire screen: