My mouth moved, but I couldn’t find words. I couldn’t find the courage in me to ask what I needed to. I couldn’t face what I wanted to know. A knot formed in the back of my throat as I kept moving my lips, but there was no sound.
Mom touched my right arm, the pressure light, and she blew out a shaky breath. “Megan and the others died... They think they died on impact. None of them were wearing their seat belts.”
“How?” I asked, and I didn’t even know why I was asking. I had enough answers to understand what she was saying. Cody was gone. Phillip and his stupid, stupid shirts were gone. So was Chris.
And Megan... We were going to go to college together. Maybe even to play college volleyball. She was one of my closest friends, my loudest and most spontaneous friend. She couldn’t be gone. That was not how these things turned out.
But she was.
They were all gone.
Wetness gathered under my eyes. “How?” I repeated.
Mom didn’t answer. Lori did, and she did so without looking at me. “The news said they were ejected. The SUV sideswiped a tree and then flipped over a couple of times.”
The news? This was on the news?
I had no idea what to think except this couldn’t be real. Pressing my head back against the pillow, I ignored the flaring pain that shot down my spine. I wanted to get out of the bed. I wanted to get out of this room, away from Lori and Mom.
I wanted to be back home where everything was normal and right. Where the world was still revolving and everything was fine. And alive.
Mom said something, but I didn’t hear her as I closed my blurry eyes. Lori responded, but her words made no sense to me. I counted to ten, telling myself that when I opened my eyes, I would be in my bed at home and this—all of this—would be a nightmare. Because it couldn’t be real. This couldn’t have happened.
Megan was still alive. Everyone was still alive.
“Lena?” Mom’s voice intruded.
No one had died. Megan was fine. So was everyone else. I was going to wake up and everything was going to be normal and okay.
Mom spoke again, and no matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t waking up.
This wasn’t a nightmare I could wake up from.
“I don’t want...to talk anymore,” I said, voice trembling. “I don’t...want to.”
I was greeted with silence.
So I lay there, keeping my eyes tightly squeezed shut as I told myself over and over that this wasn’t real. None of this was real.
This couldn’t have happened to us, because they didn’t deserve this.
No way.
A second passed, maybe two, and I...I shattered like I was nothing more than spun glass. There was a sound that reminded me of a wounded, dying animal, and it took me a moment to realize that it was me making it. It was me who was crying so hard I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t breathe around the pain engulfing every sense. The tears stung raw areas on my face and clogged my throat, and I couldn’t stop.
“Baby. Sweetie,” Mom said, her hands on me. “You need to calm down. You need to take deep, even breaths.”
But I couldn’t, because they were dead, and it was like a violent summer storm erupting inside me, unpredictable and severe. The tears kept coming and they didn’t stop until there were strange voices in the room followed by a stinging warmth in my veins, and then there were no more tears.
There was nothing.
*
Much later, Mom touched my arm again, and when I opened my eyes, I was still in the ICU room. The antiseptic smell still clogged my nostrils. Machines still beeped. I was here, and there was no escaping what that meant.
Mom was staring at me, her eyes no longer filled with tears. I didn’t think she or my sister had moved one spot while I lay in that bed. The sedative, whatever it was that they’d added to my IV, was sluggishly leaving my body.
“I need to ask you something,” Mom said after a couple of moments.
Lori rose from the chair and walked to the foot of the bed. “Mom, not now.”
Mom ignored her as she focused on me. “They’re saying that there was alcohol involved. That the driver—that Cody was possibly intoxicated.”
My brows furrowed together. Cody had been driving? That didn’t make sense. I didn’t think he’d driven to Keith’s party, because he’d talked about taking Sebastian’s Jeep, unless... “Whose...car were we in?”
“Chris’s,” answered Lori. She folded her arms across her chest.
“And...and Cody was driving his car?” None of this made sense.
She nodded. “It was in the news that alcohol was suspected. They even mentioned the party at Keith’s house. Apparently the police went there that night. It’s been...”
To Keith’s? I lifted my good arm and the IV tugged. I dropped it back to the bed. Why would he have been driving Chris’s car?
Then I remembered what Abbi and Megan had said when they’d gotten to the party. They’d believed Chris had already been drinking, and I hadn’t...I hadn’t even thought about it. There hadn’t even been a flicker of concern or a question of what the hell was he doing driving to Keith’s like that. I’d been...more concerned with what was going on with Sebastian.
“Were they drinking?” Mom asked.
I’d seen Cody with a drink—a red plastic cup and a bottle. I remembered that. I remembered... I remembered thinking—
I wasn’t so sure if he was fine or not, but the guys were staring at me and Megan was pushing me, going on and on about the ten-piece nugget meal she was going to murder. Maybe I could talk to Abbi and catch a ride with whoever she was going home with, but she was in a pretty deep conversation with Keith, oddly enough, and I had a feeling she wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon. There was this tiny voice in the back of my head, coming from the center of my stomach, but I...I was being stupid.
I had gotten in the car.
“Mom, she doesn’t remember the accident. How can she answer that question?” Lori pointed out, but did I really not remember?
Mom stared at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and she just lost it. Her face bleached of all color and she started to stand but immediately sat—fell—back into the chair. “What were you thinking, Lena?”
I opened my mouth, my mind running a million miles a minute. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t understand. Oh God, this couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Mom,” Lori said, coming back around the bed.
“You got into that car. That is what happened. You got into that car, and that boy, they said he’d been drinking. The police said they could smell it on all of you. And you—you could’ve died. They died.” Mom rose suddenly and stayed up this time, balling her fist to the center of her chest. “I love you and I am counting every lucky star in the sky right now that you’re alive, but I’m so disappointed. I raised you...your father and I raised you...to never, ever get behind the wheel after drinking or get into the car when someone had been drinking.”
“Mom,” whispered Lori, her cheeks wet again. So were mine.
“Did you know he was drunk?” Mom demanded, her voice thready.