“Are you on any medications?” Charlie asks, hovering in my field of vision now, asking questions while the other two float in and out like disembodied heads, reciting in sharp notes vague things about my color and breathing. The squeeze of a blood pressure cuff on one side, my wrist moved flush against my immobilized body on the other.
“Have you used any illegal drugs in the past thirty days?” Charlie asks, relentless.
I blink against the rain. “Kellan, tell them I’m all right!”
Kellan’s face pops into my reduced square of vision. Fat drops drip from the ends of his curls. “You need to follow orders. You need to stay still,” he tells me.
Someone murmurs something about possible traumatic brain injury, which makes me even more pissed, because I don’t have an injured brain, I have an injured wrist, and a friend who needs me now. I wriggle pointlessly against the restraints. “I have to go! You don’t understand!”
“Please stay calm, Julia.”
A tiny prick on my arm, a cool rush through my vein. In seconds, I don’t want to fight anymore. I love Kellan; he’s so worried about me. Listen, he’s giving someone my address, he’s such a good guy, so responsible. There, now Kellan is speaking in formal tones on his phone, she’s okay, Dr. Spunk, it was a super-minor accident, the air bags deployed but she’s one hundred percent fine. That car has so many safety features, it protected her like a steel cage. Good.
Kellan shoves the phone into his back pocket and runs beside as they carry me Cleopatra-style on my board. I am loaded into an ambulance for a second time in my life. The dangling equipment is familiar, a sure enough trigger, and yet I won’t go anywhere, because all of my memories are on the surface now, where they belong.
Kellan holds my hand. I try to face him, then remember I can’t. He realizes I can’t see him and gushes apologies.
“I need to see Liv before she gives Shane his present,” I whine. It sounds so silly now, listening to myself under the lovely narcotic haze of whatever just entered my bloodstream.
He laughs. “You are most definitely not going anywhere.” He’s beautiful when he laughs.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I say.
He laughs again. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been at a hockey tournament in Lake Placid. My father and me. We thought it might be a good time to get out of town.”
I smile. “Placid. Placid is a nice word. Placid sounds … placid. Hey. At the coffee place. You were with the Apple Face girl.”
“With the who?”
“The blonde.”
“Kerrie? I wasn’t with Kerrie, she just happened to be there. I was saying hello!”
“Of course her name is Kerrie. A Kerrie would like fresh milk. Milk and apples.”
“Do you seriously think I’d start seeing another girl because of Paula Papademetriou’s stupid interview? We covered this, Julia.”
“Papademetriou. Papadem-meaty-o’s. Like bad canned pasta. With minimeatballs.”
“Julia.”
“Listen, I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date.” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you unstrap me now, you can come with me.”
“You really don’t get it, do you? You’re going to the hospital. Even if you’re mostly fine, that wrist isn’t fine. You won’t be doing much writing with that hand for a while. You’re not ambidextrous, are you?”
“Am-bi-dextrous. Sounds like dom-in-a-trix. A deviant who’s skilled at using both hands.” I giggle.
“Oh boy.” Kellan casts a look at the medic riding in the back with us, whom I can feel but not see monitoring my vitals.
“It’s the Haldol talking,” the medic murmurs, unamused.
“My boyfriend likes a girl with an apple face,” I tell her.
“I do not like a girl with an apple face,” Kellan says.
“I have to save my friend. My friend’s name is Liv.” It suddenly seems important to get the girl medic on my side. Because even if she’s not a GIRL—especially if she’s not a GIRL—she will understand that you have to save your best friend’s life. It’s just what you do.
The strap across my pelvis tightens.
Kellan leans close. “You can see Liv when you get out of the hospital. And you will: if there’s one thing you can’t do, it’s stop saving Liv.” He strokes my forehead with his fingertips, and it feels lovely. “When you’re done, I’ll be here,” he whispers. I breathe heavily, and my breathing feels luscious, slow and measured. I have the sense I’m forgetting something, but it’s okay, because Kellan doesn’t like apples, and Liv thinks Charlie the paramedic is way cute, and I won’t be doing much writing for a while.
SEVENTEEN
371 Days After the Woods