I’d forgotten I was wearing Dax’s sweatshirt. The thought had me looking at my feet where I still wore his socks, up over my jeans. While my mom’s back was turned, I pulled my jeans out and over the top of them. And instead of taking off the sweatshirt, like the nurse had asked, I pushed up the sleeve. I was still cold. “Does that work?”
She nodded as she studied my left arm, searching for the perfect vein. I looked away as she brought the needle up and distracted myself by talking to my mom.
“Where is Dad?”
“On his way.”
I sucked air between my teeth when the needle went in. The nurse taped it in place.
“Does anyone have my shoes?” I asked.
The nurse and doctor exchanged a look that ended with both of them shaking their heads no. “We’ll check out front,” the nurse said. Then both she and the doctor left us alone.
“They’re probably still at the library,” my mom said. “I doubt anyone thought to bring your shoes.”
I could picture exactly where they had been, tucked under the chair next to Dax’s bag. Maybe he had grabbed them when he snuck out. I’d have to ask him about that at school.
“You’re more concerned about your shoes than your phone?” my mom asked. “Impressive.”
“Right. My phone.” I didn’t want to think about that bag in the back of Jeff’s car and what had become of it. But I knew I had to. Now that I had explained everything and my mom seemed to be calming down, it was time to find out about Jeff.
Before I could say anything, though, my older brother, Owen, walked in, followed by my dad, cutting off the question on my tongue. The one about Jeff.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Owen. “What about school?”
“It’s a holiday. Thankfully you were presumed dead on a holiday or I’d be missing chem lab for this.” Right, it was a holiday, and of course my brother would drive six hours from UNLV if he thought I was dead.
Mom smacked his arm. “Stop being so flippant about this. This is serious.”
“It’s not serious anymore,” he said, giving me a hug. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“Yeah, me too.”
He held on to me and wouldn’t let go until I pushed him away with a laugh.
My dad sat on the edge of my bed. “What happened?”
I had to explain the whole situation again. The only thing I left out was Dax. I’d promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone he was there and I planned to follow through with that promise.
“How are you feeling now, kid?” my dad asked.
“Starving. A milk shake and fries would probably cure me,” I said, batting my lashes at him.
He tousled my hair. “Sounds like you’re fine.”
“I would feel better with a milk shake too,” Owen said. “I mean, my sister was dead this morning.”
My dad looked up in thought. “How about this for a slogan? Milk shakes: Cure the shock of thinking a loved one is dead.”
My mom rolled her eyes. “Vance, you’re as bad as the kids.”
“Come on, Owen,” Dad said. “Milk shakes for everyone.” They left, Owen throwing me a thumbs-up over his shoulder.
My mom gripped my hand so hard that my fingers were turning white. I didn’t have the heart to ask her to loosen her hold. I shifted on the bed, the stiff hospital sheets itching my skin. The doctor said I could leave once the entire bag of saline hanging next to my bed was emptied into my arm; I was guessing that would take a while, though, since it wasn’t even a quarter of the way gone.
“Mom,” I said, not wanting to ask the question I knew I needed to. I didn’t want to hear the answer. I wanted to pretend everything was fine now that I was out of the library. “How is Jeff? Have you heard anything?”
“Last I heard, still critical. I haven’t checked in since yesterday. I’ve been involved with the search party.”
“Search party?” It took me too long to remember she was referring to me. “Oh. Right.”
Her eyes shone with held-back tears.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m so happy you’re okay.”
“But Jeff . . .” Now tears were stinging my eyes.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“He’ll be okay, right?”
She patted my hand, finally softening her grip, but didn’t answer my question.
“Can I see him? Is he here somewhere?”
“He’s in Salt Lake in intensive care. Only family can see him.”
I nodded. Maybe I could send over flowers or something. Maybe I could call the hospital and they’d tell me how he was. They’d tell me he was fine. Because he was going to be fine.
I stared at the clear bag full of saline until the door opened a crack and a white cup appeared.
I smiled. “Look who came to visit me. Milk shake.”
My mom turned in her chair. “Come in, Vance, before the doctor sees what you’ve smuggled in here.”
My dad came in, followed by my brother, who held his own milk shake. “I will smuggle anything anywhere for my only daughter.”
I took a long drink. “How many days do I get the we’re-just-happy-you’realive parents? I need to know how long I have to take advantage of you.”
My mom tried to give me a serious look but only ended up trying to gain control of her emotions again.
Owen rolled his eyes and mouthed way to go at me behind Mom’s back.