He frowns even more severely—something I didn’t know was possible. “Wait here against the wall.” He and the other officers huddle like a trio of football players, voices too low for me to catch.
I see Julian in my head, limbs twisted inside the trunk like he was pushed from the top of a skyscraper. The trunk was tipped over onto its side. The air holes were covered, but for how long?
What if I never thought to lift it? What if I never came at all?
One of the cops, this one a little younger and leaner, looks up from the huddle. “Did you take something tonight?” he asks me.
“What?”
He crowds in just like Clark did, looks deep into my eyes, and sniffs me. “Why are you tapping your foot like that?”
“I’m nervous! And I have ADHD.”
“Lower your voice. Right now.”
“I’m sorry. This has been an insanely stressful night, and I just want to see my friend.”
His dark eyes go semi-sympathetic. “Wait one more minute.”
Clark struts over and slaps my license into my palm. “We’ll be back later to talk to the boy.”
Awesome.
I head back into the little room just as Julian’s being rolled out. A nurse says they’re taking him to Radiology and it’ll be a while.
I stand in the now-quiet room, staring dumbly at the empty spot where his bed was a second ago. My legs are shaking and I remember freshman year, the time I passed out running cross-country in August. I remember the pounding head, the sick shaking body, the way the sky seemed to merge into a thousand black dots.
My legs go rubbery-weak, and I find myself sliding against the wall to land on the floor. Up close, the tile’s grimier than a hospital floor should be. I should tell someone about this.
I’m not sure how long I have to sit before I’m able to get back onto my feet and ask a nurse if I can use their phone. There’s only one number I know by heart.
It didn’t occur to me that after I hung up with Emerald, she’d call everyone we know. Julian would freakin hate it, but seeing my closest friends rush into the emergency-room lobby wearing pajamas or hastily-thrown-on, wrinkled clothes sends an unexpected burn to the back of my throat.
Emerald, Charlie, Allison, Jesse, Camila, and Matt stand in a semicircle around me with wide-worried eyes, and again I have to explain what happened. This time I get through it like a professional, calmly bullet-pointing all the pertinent facts.
They seem to take my pausing for a breath as the signal to start crying. Emerald and Allison tear up, and—Jesus—even Charlie’s eyes become suspiciously watery before he turns around with a furious scowl. My cheeks stretch up into what I hope is a reassuring smile as I tell them really, everything’s fine. They should go home and get some sleep. I’m met with stunned glares, and then, in almost synchronized fashion, they take deliberate seats. That esophageal burn magnifies while I spastically nod.
I tell them I’ll be back as soon as I check on Julian, and I return a few minutes later knowing no more than I did before. My friends all have the sick and grieving look of mourners at a wake. Emerald’s still quietly crying, her face red and blotchy as she sits on one of the gray vinyl-upholstered ER benches. Jesse’s slumped over nearby, his earbuds notably missing, tapping a steady, solemn beat on a tabletop with his fingertips.
Camila and Matt are actually holding hands as they sit together on another bench. They’re both wearing red plaid pajama pants and T-shirts, and I wonder if this is a thing they do—dress alike when they’re at home.
Charlie’s on the other side of the giant room, turning around in circles like an angry dog. Allison’s a pale shadow behind him. Everyone looks traumatized, while I move from person to person like the host at the world’s most depressing slumber party. I kiss Emerald’s hair and hug Jesse and stuff vending machine snacks into Charlie’s fists, but I’m not sure if anything I’m doing actually helps.
At four in the morning I head back to Julian’s room for the thousandth time, and the doctor tells me his results are ready.
Mostly normal. No brain trauma. No organ failure. But he’s depleted, dehydrated, not breathing well on his own, and his blood pressure’s still too low. He’s being admitted into the hospital and moved to a room where he’ll stay till he’s stronger.
When I report this to my friends, it seems like one of those moments where we’re all supposed to leap into the air with overjoyed relief. Instead, everyone just looks exhausted and depressed, like we’re all depleted now.
Emerald takes my hand and pulls like she expects me to leave with my mobilizing friends.
“I’m staying,” I tell her.
“You need to get some sleep.”
“I can sleep here.”
“Adam…” She looks like she wants to say something, but she just kisses me before she joins the others.
I watch while everyone disappears through the automatic doors.