“Wait. It says here Tony was driving.”
“Still. They were both drunk.”
“I don’t know if they definitively know that yet. Early reports of things often have facts wrong.” At least, she hoped he hadn’t been drinking. He promised her. Stephanie got to the end of the article, her heart thumping, relief flooding through her. “They both were taken to the hospital—alive.”
“Oh, thank heavens.” Amanda crossed the room and sank down onto her bed. “Call him.”
Was Amanda insane? “What? No way. Don’t you think he’s a little busy right now?”
“Then text him. Just to ask if he’s okay. He could be really hurt.”
“I know! That’s why I don’t want to message him. What if he’s on his deathbed?”
Amanda sent her a glare. “What if he’s on his deathbed and you don’t message him? And he dies, thinking you didn’t care?”
Well, that was stupid. But maybe he would like to know his accident is in the news. Stephanie grunted but called up Brandon’s texts. “Fine. I’ll send him a message.”
Before she could open the text dialogue box, a noise sounded.
Amanda sat up. “Is that from Brandon? Is he okay?”
Stephanie shook her head. “No. It’s from Chris.”
You still there?
She answered him back. Sorry. A friend was in a car accident. Can we chat later?
Oh, no. I’m sorry. Of course, we can chat later. I hope your friend is okay.
Me, too. Thanks.
Amanda waved her hands. “Did you text Brandon yet?”
“Geesh, can you chill? I’m doing that right now.” Stephanie huffed and sent a message to Brandon.
Just heard you were in a car accident. I hope you’re okay. Text me when you can.
Stephanie sat, staring at the phone as the seconds ticked by. Amanda fidgeted. They waited a full five minutes before Amanda spoke. “Nothing?”
“No.”
They stayed up another hour while more reports came in about the accident. How severe it was. How no one knew the condition of Tony or Brandon. Dread pooled in her stomach as the minutes ticked on.
Still, no text came.
Chapter 12
A steady beeping sound interrupted Brandon’s dreams, making his head hurt. What was that noise? Someone should shut it off. And then he heard his mother’s voice, hushed and worried.
That’s when the accident came into his memory. Tony. And his Ferrari.
And the police.
Oh, boy. He was in so much trouble.
He tried to move, but pain traveled through his head and down his arm. He groaned, and a flurry of activity happened around him. He worked hard to open his eyes against the bright light. Shapes took form in front of him. He saw his mother standing in front of him, her face drained of color. And then he noticed his Aunt Monica by the wall. And another person, but he didn’t know who it was. He came closer.
Recognition hit him like a frying pan to the face. It was his father.
Oh, no. This was way worse than he thought, if his father was here. His gaze traveled back to his mother, who was hovering. “Sweetie? Are you awake?”
“Yeah,” he said, although it came out more like a croak.
“Are you in pain?”
He tried to reach up to his head where it hurt the worst, but his hand had an IV line and the cord restricted him. “My head…”
“You got hit pretty hard. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Panic shot through him. Lucky to be alive? What about Tony? Was he…? Brandon tried to sit up, but he couldn’t. “Tony. Where is he? Is he okay?”
His mother frowned. “He’s in surgery.”
Surgery? What had happened to him? Fear crept up his neck and he had a hard time swallowing. “What for? Is he going to be okay?”
His mother blinked, like she was going to cry. Crud, this was bad. She touched his hand lightly. “They don’t know yet.”
His father took a step toward him and he recoiled. He didn’t want to see him. His father wasn’t worth anything to him. He hated the scum.
“Brandon? Can I ask you a few questions?” his father asked.
Brandon gritted his teeth. It made him so angry that it took him getting into a major car accident for his father to show up. Not one phone call in all these years, and he shows up now? After he almost gets killed? What does that say about how important Brandon was in his life? “No. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Sweetie, you’d better answer your father’s questions. He’s trying to help.”
“I don’t need his help.” Brandon shoved down the emotions swelling in him. He wasn’t going to cry. Not now. And not over the worthless man who left him and his mother. He wasn’t worth crying over.
“You might be in some legal trouble.” His father ran a hand over his balding head.
Legal trouble? Is that a nice way of saying he might get arrested? Brandon glared at his father, the two-bit attorney working in the sticks. What could he do for him that his team of lawyers couldn’t?
“Then have them arrest me. I don’t care.”
His mother sucked in a breath and turned to bury her head in his father’s shoulder. His father put his arms around his mother. Brandon almost leapt out of bed to rip them apart. What was she doing? Why was she turning to that scum for support?
“The doctor says you have ecstasy in your bloodstream,” his father said. “Do you remember taking that?”
Brandon groaned. He didn’t want to talk to his father. And he hated the way his mother was looking at Brandon with those wide eyes, like he let her down. Again. But he knew he had to answer at some point. “I didn’t know what it was,” he finally said.
“Who gave you the drugs?”
Well, he wasn’t about to say that. If he told the truth, Tony would get in even more trouble. But he wasn’t sure how much trouble he’d get in if he lied about it. He pressed his lips together, trying to think of what to say, but it was difficult. His head felt fuzzy. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and go back to sleep.
His Aunt Monica folded her arms across her chest. “They found ecstasy in Tony’s pocket.”
His father glared at his aunt. “You can’t lead the witness.”
“This isn’t a court,” Aunt Monica said, her cheeks flushing. “And I’m not leading the witness. I’m telling him Tony is already in trouble for it. It won’t hurt him more to tell the truth.”
Why was everyone fighting? It was his father’s fault. If he would just leave…Brandon clenched his hands into fists and pain shot up his arm. “Ouch.” He flinched.
“Do you need more pain meds?” his mother asked, pulling away from his father. “When can he have more?”
His aunt checked something written on a whiteboard on the wall. “He can’t have any more meds until five.”
“Five? O’clock? In the morning? How long have I been in here?” Brandon thought it was around midnight.
“It’s three in the afternoon,” his mother said. “You’ve been on pretty heavy pain medicine. You were rushed into surgery when you first got here. Your arm…” She put her hand over her mouth and blinked.
His arm? What about it? He looked down at the large bandage covering it from his shoulder to his elbow. Panic shot through him as he tried to lift it. It wouldn’t move. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Calm down,” his mother said. “You’re getting agitated.”
“I’m agitated because no one will answer me.”
His aunt approached him. “Some of your muscles were severed in the accident. The doctor said they were able to repair most of the damage, but you should keep it immobile for now until it heals. You should regain full mobility with physical therapy. You’re lucky. Another few inches and you’d be an amputee.”
Amputee? Brandon felt like he was going to faint. “What?” he said, but the word barely came out. His head spun as he tried to sit up.
“Lay down, Brandon,” his mothe
r said. “You’re okay. Just be calm. Maybe it’s time to rest.”
A noise sounded from across the room and Brandon’s gaze landed on his phone, sitting on top of his clothes that were folded and lying on a table. “My phone,” he said, reaching out with his good arm.
His mother frowned, but she walked to the table and picked it up. After she handed it to him, she said, “You can have this for a moment. Then I’m turning it off. You need your sleep.”
Brandon nodded, but only because he felt like he was going to drift off any second anyway. He skimmed through his texts until he found the ones he wanted. From Vlogger girl. She’d sent him several, last night and today. His accident was all over the news. No surprise there.
He sent her a quick reply.
I’m okay. In the hospital. Very tired. I’ll call you later.
He handed his phone back to his mother and closed his eyes. He listened to all of them talking as if he wasn’t in the room anymore.
His mother let out a long sigh. “I don’t know what to do with him. He’s out of control.”
“How long has he been on drugs? Do you think he needs a rehab program?” his father asked.
His mother choked back a sob. “I don’t know.”
“He could come live with me.” That voice was higher-pitched. Must be Aunt Monica. “Until he recovers…from everything.”
The rest of the voices faded away as the heavy fog pressed down on him. But something in the back of his mind niggled at him. Something about what his aunt had said. He didn’t want to leave L.A., but there was something about living with his aunt that intrigued him. He couldn’t think straight. What was it?
And then it hit him. Aunt Monica lived in Rockford, Wisconsin.
That’s where Vlogger girl lived.
Chapter 13
Stephanie let out a breath as she sat down on the plastic chair at her usual table in the cafeteria. Jade set her tray down and plopped down beside her. “That bad, huh?”
Stephanie put her head down on her arms, leaning on the table, and moaned. “This is the worst day ever.”
“No word from Brandon?”
“No. Not since yesterday. And I had a huge test in physics that I’m sure I bombed because I couldn’t concentrate last night to study. And tomorrow I have a paper due in English, and I haven’t even started.” She closed her eyes and tried to block out the light with her arms.
Jade shoved her shoulder. “Snap out of it. I haven’t seen you this depressed since you bombed that audition last year.”
Stephanie sat up. The musical. She’d forgotten. “Oh, yeah. I still haven’t memorized all my lines for Little Shop of Horrors. Rehearsals start next week.”
Jade rolled her eyes and kicked her in the shin. It wasn’t very hard, but pain still shot up her leg.
“Ouch. What did you do that for?”
“Because. You’re whining. You have a hot, famous boyfriend, you got the lead part in the play, and your Vlog has blown up with followers. Your life is pretty good right now.”
Stephanie wrinkled her nose. Jade was delusional. “Boyfriend? I hate to break it to you, but Brandon’s not my boyfriend. We don’t even really know each other. He lives in California. I’ll probably never meet him in person.”
Jade picked up an apple slice and took a bite. “You have a freakin’ movie star talking to you on the phone. He obviously likes you. Wake up.”
“I don’t even know if he’s still alive,” Stephanie muttered. She didn’t want to sound all doom and gloom, but she was really worried about him.
“He’s not dead. It would be all over the news if he was.” Jade’s eyes widened as if she hadn’t realized how terrible that would sound until the words were out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yeah, you did. Is it bad that I’ve been thinking that all day, as I check Twitter between classes?” It was the only thing she could do. She didn’t want to send a constant barrage of texts to him. He was in the hospital. He said he’d call her later. She just needed to wait for that.
Marissa, one of the other girls from the drama club, walked up to their table. “Hey, Steph.” She gave a little wave.
“Hey, Marissa.”
Stephanie thought maybe Marissa was there just to say hi, but when she didn’t walk away, Stephanie said, “What’s up?”
“Well, you know how the drama club has a booth for the harvest festival this weekend, right? We’re trying to earn enough money for our annual trip. Miss Morgan said we need to earn more this year than last year, because Washington, D.C. is more expensive.”
Marissa continued to talk about the money the club needed, and why they needed it. Stephanie listened politely, not really understanding. She was part of the drama club. She knew all this. “Okay.”
“So, we were hoping we could count on your support.”
“I can give a couple of dollars…” Stephanie didn’t have that much money, but she could help a little.
Marissa swallowed. “No, I mean, we’re hoping you could help at the booth.”
“Oh. Sure.” Why was Marissa acting so weird? “What are we doing? Selling food? Do you need me to bake?”
“No. It’s a kissing booth.”
Stephanie choked back a laugh. “A what?”
Marissa shifted her weight. “A kissing booth.” She rushed on. “I know this isn’t really your thing, but we think it would raise quite a bit of money, and you’re kind of a celebrity now with your Vlog. We think you’d be able to help us.”
Jade sat there, listening to the entire exchange, a smirk growing on her face. Stephanie was so stunned, she was speechless. They wanted her to stand at a booth and kiss guys? For money? What kind of a crazy idea was that?
“She’ll do it,” Jade said.
“What? No, I won’t,” Stephanie blurted out.
Marissa faltered. “You don’t have to decide now, or anything. Think about it. It would help out the drama club so much.”
Jade gave her a look that seemed to say, ‘Why are you being so difficult?’ Before Stephanie could say anything else, Marissa gave her another small wave and left. Jade let out an exasperated sigh. “Why won’t you help out the drama club? You’re in the drama club.”
“I totally will help out. I just don’t want to be the main attraction at a kissing booth!” A couple of students turned to stare at her, and she sank down into her chair. “Sheesh.”
“I think you should do it. But whatevs. It’s your life.”
Her phone chimed and she grabbed it off the table, her hands shaking. It was a text from Brandon. Finally. Relief flooded through her as she stared at it.
Hey.
One word. That was it. But it made her so overjoyed to see it. Jade raised one eyebrow, her mouth now full of ham sandwich. She swallowed. “Is that him?”
Stephanie nodded and quickly texted back.
Hey, how are you?
Jade leaned over so she could see the conversation. Stephanie resisted the urge to take her phone to a more private location. Jade was her friend. She shouldn’t care if Jade saw the conversation, but for some reason, she did. She wanted to talk to Brandon alone.
Kinda crappy. I’m sure you’ve heard all about the accident by now.
Stephanie was glad he brought up the accident. She wanted to ask about it but didn’t want to be the first to bring it up.
A whole lot of rumors. How bad are you hurt?
My left arm got the worst of it. Had surgery on it. I’ll need physical therapy. But it should heal. Got a concussion too. That sucks. Makes me tired all the time.
Another wave of relief hit her. His injuries weren’t life-threatening. That was so amazing. She’d seen pictures of the car he’d been in. It looked like someone took a giant hammer to it until there wasn’t much left of it.
I’m so sorry about your arm, and your concussion. But I’m glad you’ll heal.
Yeah, me too.
Jade nudged her, her sandwich in hand. “Ask about the police chase.”
She gasped. “Why? I don’t want to ask him that.”
“Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know what’s up with that?”
Stephanie sighed. She glanced around the busy lunchroom, almost afraid the students would find out she was talking to Brandon and come mob her for answers about what happened, but no one seemed to pay attention to her. She turned back to Jade. “I guess.”
“Then ask.”
It felt weird to ask, but she forced herself to text him.
Is it true you were involved in a police chase?
Yeah.
The admission sent a jolt through her. Stephanie waited for more explanation, but when none came, she texted again.
What happened?
Are you free to take a call?
No. I’m at school.
I’ll call you tonight. We need to talk anyway.
Oh, that didn’t sound good. Wasn’t that what people said right before they gave you bad news? Like breaking up? Not that they were dating. They weren’t at all. But maybe he wanted to stop talking or something. She almost didn’t want to ask, but her fingers texted as if they had a mind of their own.
What about?
It seemed to take forever for Brandon to respond. Finally, her phone chimed and she looked at the screen.
I think my mom is sending me to live with my aunt in Rockford.
Stephanie’s vision grew spotty and she could barely breathe. Jade squealed beside her, but she could hardly hear her. Brandon…was coming to Rockford?
She would meet him face to face.
Chapter 14
Brandon winced as he tried to get comfortable in bed. His arm was stuck in a sling to protect him from moving it too much, but it did nothing for the pain. He’d been released from the hospital, thank goodness. Now he was at home, but his mother had freaked out about the drugs in his system and was keeping a close eye on his pain medication. He was due for another pill, but not for a half-hour.
Man, this sucked.
He could hear his father, mother and aunt talking downstairs. Talking might be a bit of a stretch. It sounded quite loud. And they were talking about him. He cringed as he listened to their conversation.
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