“Oh, hi, Paul,” he offers. Pushing his bangs from his face, he looks at me. “I hope this is okay. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew I could get them. I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to get tickets to Masters of the V. I finally scored some this morning.”
Neena’s eyebrows haven’t fully grown back, but I can tell they’d be touching her hairline if they had. “Really?”
Mills darts his gaze to me, nervously, then back to Neena. “I thought, if your parents were cool with it, maybe you could go.”
Neena lets out some kind of crazy squeal/shriek sound as she grabs my arms and tugs. “Please, Dad! Please let me go.”
I kind of want to throat punch Mills right now. He should have asked me before telling Neena. How in the hell am I supposed to say no to her? But I should. For starters, concerts are loud and busy and people are pushy. Secondly, I’m pretty sure Clara would say no.
“I got a third ticket for you or Clara to go, too,” Mills murmurs.
“How thoughtful,” I counter dryly.
“Pleeeassseee, Dad!” Neena begs. She’s been peppy today. More so than she has in a long time. Today is a good day. Maybe one of the last good days we have.
I’m already leaning toward answering yes when Mills throws out his final card. “I got us backstage passes.”
And . . . we’re going. Clara is not going to like this. Fuck.
I don’t call Clara. My reasoning is nothing is wrong. Neena is fine. She’s happy. And if I call Clara, all it will do is worry her to death while she should be relaxing. Besides, I’m going to be with Neena the entire time. Everything will be fine.
We meet Masters of the V before the show. Zack, the lead singer, who looks like he stuck his finger in an electrical socket this morning, his hair sticks out so much, is actually a pretty cool guy. He gives Neena an autographed poster and the coveted wristband she’s wanted so badly for so long. Neena has not stopped grinning all night.
And Mills, to his credit, has treated her like a queen tonight. I’ve had mixed feeling about the kid. But before we got out of the car to come inside tonight, Neena looked in the visor to adjust the purple scarf around her head. What happened next surprised me.
“You should leave it off, Neena,” Mills said as he leaned forward from the backseat.
“I look awful,” she griped.
“No, you don’t,” he insisted. “I think you look pretty badass without it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s your choice, of course, but I don’t think you need it.”
Neena flipped the visor closed and tugged off her scarf, leaving it on the dash before we climbed out. Mills made her feel cool. He won some major points in my book tonight.
The concert is in full effect and I can’t deny it’s the worst music I’ve ever heard in my life. Neena is dancing and jumping, shouting at the top of her lungs. I bend down so my mouth is to her ear. “Slow down a bit, kid. I don’t want you to tire out.”
“I’m fine,” she yells back.
She doesn’t stop moving for several songs. Then it happens. The band starts playing a song called Promised Land, and Zack dedicates it to Neena.
She loses her mind.
The melody is soft and slow, which keeps Neena from bouncing all over the place for a minute. As he starts singing, she seems to simmer down, really listening to the words. The song is about what lies ahead; the unknown. It’s about someone that’s scared, but never shows it. After the first two verses, I look down and see Neena crying as she smiles. Her hands are clasped together against her chest.
When the song finishes, the next one is upbeat and the crowd starts bouncing around like crazy again. But not Neena. She looks up at me and tugs my shirt so I’ll bend down to hear her. “I need to go home,” she murmurs.
“Okay.” I’m wondering what just happened but there’s no time for that. I tell Mills and together we begin weaving our way through the crowd. Neena is behind me, with Mills behind her.
We’ve just exit the theatre into the lobby when she whimpers, “Dad.” And then she collapses to the floor. I fall, banging my knees against the floor, and shake her a few times, trying to wake her, but get nothing. Instantly, I check her vitals. She’s still breathing. Her heart is still beating.
I toss my keys to Mills. “Get my car. Now!” I boom. Mills hauls ass out to the parking lot. Meanwhile, I scoop Neena up, her frail body limp in my arms, and hold tightly to me. “Not now, princess,” I beg her, my voice raspy as hell as fear seizes me. “Not yet.”
The two-hour drive feels like twenty. When Paul had called, they were on their way to the hospital. He’d been at a concert with Mills and Neena. My heart has been in my throat ever since. She went unconscious. Paul said she’d passed out cold. That hasn’t happened before. Ally, who’s driving us back because I’m a wreck, drops me at the entrance and I rush in while they park the car. Paul is in the lobby of the oncology floor, his head buried in his hands. Marcus is sitting beside him, passed out.
“Where is she?” I snap. His head flies up, his red and glossy eyes now alert.
“Clara?”