by Tracy Wolff
“You’re fine,” my uncle says, his voice low and soothing. He reaches for my hand, pats it a few times. “Thankfully Jaxon was there. He slowed the bleeding and got you to Marise’s office before…”
“Before I died.” I say what he won’t.
My uncle turns white. “Don’t think about that now, Grace. You’re fine.”
Because Jaxon saved me. Again. “I want to see him.”
“Of course,” Uncle Finn agrees. “Once you’re up and about.”
“No, I’d really like to see him now.” I start kicking at my covers, which feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. “I need to make sure he’s okay. I need…” I trail off. I don’t know what I need, except to see Jaxon. To see his face, to touch him, to feel him breathe and know that he’s really okay.
And also because I’ll go out of my mind if I don’t find out how he feels about the kiss we shared. Soon.
“Whoa, now.” Marise puts a firm hand on my shoulder and pushes me back down against the bed. “You can see Jaxon tomorrow. For now, you need to stay here and rest.”
“I don’t want to rest. I want—”
“I know what you want, but that’s not possible right now. You’re weak.” The stern look is back, and it has multiplied times ten. “I don’t think you realize how serious this injury is. You need to recuperate.”
“I know exactly how serious an arterial bleed is,” I insist, my mother’s face floating behind my eyes for a few seconds before I manage to blink it away. “I’m not planning on snowboarding down the side of Denali. I just want to see my…”
I break off because I was about to call Jaxon my boyfriend and no, just no. One kiss does not a boyfriend make, even if it was the best kiss of my life. Maybe even the best kiss in the history of the world. I mean, until the glass started flying.
I try to play it off by picking at my comforter, but Macy’s wide eyes tell me I’m not doing a very good job of it.
All of a sudden, Marise and Uncle Finn are studying me a lot more closely, too, though neither of them makes a comment about my slipup. Instead, Marise simply pulls my comforter back over me and says, “Behave or I’ll give you another sedative. And this time I’ll make sure it knocks you out for several hours.”
The threat is real—I can see it in her eyes—so I don’t push to see Jaxon any more. Instead, I settle back against my pillows and do my best impression of a good little patient.
“I’ll behave,” I promise. “You don’t need to give me a sedative.”
“We’ll see,” she harrumphs. “You need rest, and it’s my job to make sure you get it. How that happens is completely up to you.”
“He’s okay,” Macy reassures me when I don’t say anything else. “I promise, Grace. He’s just busy right now cleaning up the mess in the tower.”
Oh, right. Arterial bleeds aren’t exactly tidy. “Is it bad?” I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m embarrassed that I bled all over Jaxon’s tower, that I caused all this fuss for so many people. “Does he need help?”
“I’ve got it covered,” Uncle Finn assures me dryly. “Thankfully the earthquake only caused minimal damage throughout the rest of the castle, so all my people are up in Jaxon’s room.”
“You’re sure?” It’s a question for Macy, not Uncle Finn. I don’t know why I’m being so insistent, except there’s this feeling deep inside me that something isn’t quite right. That Jaxon is in trouble somehow. It’s probably just the medicine messing with my head, but I can’t seem to shake it. I need to know for sure that he’s all right.
“I swear, Grace.” She reaches over from her spot at the end of the bed and squeezes my hand. “Everything is under control with Jaxon. He’s fine, his rooms will be fine soon enough, and no one else was hurt in the earthquake. You can relax.”
It’s hard to imagine relaxing when fear is still a tight ball in the pit of my stomach. But it’s not like I have a choice with everyone hovering over me.
Though it’s the last thing I want to do right now, I relax back against my pillows. Maybe if I start being more compliant, Marise and Uncle Finn will leave me alone for a while.
“Are you thirsty, Grace?” Marise asks after a moment. “Do you want some juice?”
For the first time, I realize I am thirsty. Like, really, really thirsty. Like, can’t remember the last time I needed a drink this badly thirsty. “Yes, please. Or water. Anything would be good.”
“Let’s start with a little cranapple juice. The sugar will be good for you, and then we’ll go from there.”
“Why do I need sugar?” I ask, even as I accept the small bottle she hands me. I drink it down in one gulp and pretend I don’t see the look she exchanges with Uncle Finn.
“Can I have another?”
“Of course.” A second bottle appears in her hand, though I would swear she didn’t even turn around. I’m too thirsty to care, though, so I take it with a murmured thank-you. I try to drink it more slowly but end up chugging this one, too.
When I’m finished, Uncle Finn takes the bottle from me. Then he strokes a hand over my hair in that way that always makes me think of my dad and says, “I’m sorry, Grace.”
“For what?” I ask, confused by the words and the pained look on his face.
“First the altitude sickness, now an earthquake. I brought you to Alaska because I wanted you to feel safe, wanted to help you find a new home. Instead, you’ve been miserable since you got here.”
“I’m not miserable,” I tell him. When it looks like he doesn’t believe me, I reach for his hand. “I mean, Alaska is about as different from San Diego as it can get, but that doesn’t mean I hate it here. I thought I would, but I don’t.”
I start out meaning to reassure him, but the more I say, the more I realize I mean every word. Alaska does feel alien, but if I didn’t come here, I wouldn’t have met Jaxon. I wouldn’t have had that incredible kiss. And I wouldn’t be living with my cousin, working on a friendship that I’m pretty sure is going to last the rest of our lives.
“Besides, the altitude sickness is gone. And we have earthquakes back home, too, you know.” I grin. “It’s pretty much the one thing Southern California and Alaska have in common.”
“Yeah, but I should have given you more of an introduction to Katmere Academy. I guess I thought ignorance would keep you safe.”
“I don’t think a tour of the school would have stopped me from getting hurt in an earthquake, Uncle Finn.”
He smiles a little sadly. “That’s not what I mean.”
My radar, fuzzy as it is, goes off again. “What do you mean, then?”
“He means that, like any school, it takes a little time to learn the ropes here,” Marise interjects, and the look she gives my uncle tells him now is not the time to discuss those ropes. “I’m sure Macy will help you out with a lot of it. Plus, you’re a smart girl. I think you’ll be fitting in here in no time.”
I’m not so sure, but I’m not about to argue with her. Not when doing so will just keep her and my uncle here longer.
Instead, I change the subject, hoping covering the last of my medical stuff will move them along. “What about my other cuts?” My hand goes to my cheek and the bandage there. “Are they bad?”
“No, not at all. They’ll be healed in no time, and none of them was deep enough to leave a scar.”
“Except on my neck.”
“Yes.” She sounds reluctant to admit it. “You will have a small scar on your neck.”
“Better than the alternative, I guess.” I smile at her. “Thanks for taking care of me. I appreciate it.”
“Of course, Grace. You’re a model patient.”
We’ll see if she still thinks so after I sneak out of my room tonight to go to Jaxon’s. I want to see him, want to make sure he wasn’t hurt, too. And I want to know how he feels about our kiss, if he’s still thinking abou
t it—or if he’s decided I’m just too much trouble.
I also want to know what happened between the glass breaking and me getting to the nurse’s office, and he’s the only one who can tell me. I hate that I can’t remember anything. It makes me feel completely out of control, and I can’t stand that feeling. It gets my anxiety up, so much so that I’m sure I’d be on the verge of a panic attack if it weren’t for the sedative.
“Is it okay that I’m still so sleepy?” I ask, not because I actually want to take a nap but because I want everyone to stop hovering. Especially my uncle.
“Of course,” Marise tells me. “It will probably be tomorrow morning before all the sedation wears off.” She turns to my uncle. “Why don’t we head out, Finn? Give Grace a chance to rest. I’ll come back and check on her before bed and, in the meantime, I’m sure Macy will get us if there’s any problem.”
“Of course I will.” Macy gives her father the most virtuous look I have ever seen on her face or any other. If I weren’t so impressed, plus desperate for Uncle Finn to leave, I’d probably burst out laughing.
“How about you?” my uncle asks, stroking a hand over the top of my head. “You okay with us leaving so you can get some sleep?”
“Of course. It feels rude to sleep while you’re here, but I’m just so tired, Uncle Finn.” Turns out Macy isn’t the only one who can lay it on thick.
“Okay, then. I’ll head out. Macy, why don’t you come with me? You can grab some food for you and Grace from the dining room before Marise leaves.” He looks at me. “You must be hungry.”
I am, actually, now that he mentions it. Starved, actually. “I would love something to eat.”
“Nothing too heavy,” Marise warns. “Some soup and maybe a pudding to start with. If that stays down, we can talk about something a little more substantial.”
“Of course.” Macy sends me a reassuring look, then loops an arm through her father’s. “Come on, Daddy. Let’s go get Grace that food before she falls asleep.”
My uncle walks out right behind her, and I tell myself I have to remember to do something really nice for Macy to pay her back for her help with him. Doing her laundry for a month, maybe, or cleaning the bathroom the next several times.
After they leave, I’m a little nervous about being left alone with the nurse, but she seems content to let me “doze,” and I’m prepared to take full advantage of it. Now that the sedative has worn off some, I feel like I’ve been run over by a snowplow…twice. I’m sure it’s just because of all the blood loss, so I’m not worried. But it still feels gross.
A few minutes go by in silence, but Marise must figure out I’m not actually napping because she asks, “Do you have any more questions about your condition, Grace?”
“No, I’m good,” I answer. But then something occurs to me. “Actually, I was wondering how long before you take the stitches out?”
“Stitches?” She seems baffled at the question, which doesn’t make any sense at all.
“For the arterial tear? You did stitch it up, right? Or is that just something they do on Grey’s Anatomy?”
“Oh, right. Of course.” Now she just looks uncomfortable. “The stitches I used on the artery will melt away, so no worries there.”
“And the ones on the outside? That closed the wound?”
“They’ll dissolve, too,” she tells me.
Her answer strikes me as odd, but I’m not a nurse, so I’m willing to go with it. At least until she continues. “Keep that cut covered, by the way. Come to me tomorrow and I’ll change the dressing for you, but don’t uncover it on your own for at least a week.”
“A week? What about when I take a shower?”
“I’ll give you some waterproof film you can put over the bandage. It will keep it dry, even when you’re washing your hair.”
Seems like a lot of work for a wound that is supposed to heal normally, but I’m not going to call her on it. At least not yet. Instead, I simply say, “Thanks.” And this time when I close my eyes, I actually try to fall asleep.
It doesn’t work, though, because no matter how drowsy I am, something just doesn’t feel right here, including the fact that a school nurse sewed up my artery…and then seemed shocked at the mere mention of stitches. Where I come from, doing stitches is a doctor’s job, pure and simple.
Then again, this is Alaska, and we are ninety minutes from the closest hint of civilization. It probably stands to reason that the school nurse at Katmere can do a lot more than an average school nurse. Maybe she’s a nurse practitioner and that’s why she can prescribe sedatives and fix arteries.
Either way, I’m grateful when Macy finally gets back. I keep pretending to be asleep until Marise leaves, but as soon as the door closes behind her, I spring up in bed.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I demand of my cousin, who screams and nearly drops the tray she’s carrying.
“I thought you were asleep!”
“I wanted to make sure Marise left.” I throw back my covers and swing my legs off the side of the bed so that my feet are on the floor.
“You need to lay back down,” Macy admonishes.
“I need to find out what really happened to me,” I counter. “I mean, what are the odds that the window would shatter like that during an earthquake and that the flying glass would actually nick my artery? It seems like a long shot. And then Marise told me not to look at the cut. What is that?”
“She probably just doesn’t want you to freak out about it being ugly or something.”
Macy sets the tray down on her desk, but she doesn’t turn around to face me. Instead, she fusses with the dishes on the tray until I want to scream. After all, there’s only so much prep a bowl of already heated soup needs.
Which is why I push to my feet, ignoring how light-headed I feel, and start to walk over to her. The room begins swaying before I’m halfway there, though, and I put a hand on the wall to steady myself.
Just a small nick, my ass. I’m in seriously bad shape here.
Macy turns around and shrieks all over again when she sees how unsteady I am. “Get back in bed!” she orders, grabbing my arm and throwing it over her shoulders. “Come on, I’ll help you.”
“Tell me the truth. Did my artery really just get nicked or is there something they’re not telling me?” I ask, refusing to let her move me until I get some of my questions answered.
“Your artery was nicked. I saw the blood myself.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yeah, but that’s all I know. I wasn’t there when Jaxon brought you to the nurse, you know. I was at dance practice.”
“Oh, right.” I sigh, fighting the urge to pull out a chunk or two of my hair. “Sorry. I just feel like something is off about this whole story.”
“I don’t know, Grace. It makes sense to me. Although I do feel like you have the worst luck ever. That tree branch breaking and now the window. It’s weird.”
“It is weird. That’s what I was thinking earlier. I mean, the odds are way skewed. I just don’t know what to think about it.”
“Right now? You don’t have to think about anything that doesn’t involve crawling back into your bed and getting some sleep. Marise would kill me if she saw you up wandering around the room.”
“And what’s up with that?” I demand, even as I let Macy help me to my bed. “She’s, like, the scariest school nurse anywhere.”
“She’s not so bad. She’s just…serious.”
I snag the pencil bag off my desk on my way by. I’ve got a mirror inside, and I want to get a look at the damage. “Yeah, that’s one way to describe her.”
“What kind of soup do you want?” Macy asks as she settles me down into a bed whose sheets seem a lot smoother than when I climbed out of it. Which makes no sense, considering Macy has been across the room the whole time.
“Hey, did you fix this?”
“What?”
“My bed. It was a mess when I got out of it.”
“Oh, yeah. I, uh…” She moves her hand horizontally in a kind of smoothing motion.
“When?” I must be more out of it than I think. I didn’t even see her come over here.
“I did it when you were leaning against the wall. You had your eyes closed for a minute, and I didn’t want to disturb you while you were getting your bearings.”
Again, that doesn’t seem right. I was sure she came directly over to me once she realized I was standing. Then again, I’m the one who’s totally drugged while she’s the one who has all her faculties about her. Besides, what does it matter anyway? It’s not like my bed made itself.
“Well, I appreciate it,” I say as I pull back the covers over me. “So thanks.”
“No worries.” Still, she looks a little white as she reaches for the food tray. “I brought potato, chicken noodle, and corn chowder. I didn’t know what kind of soup you like.”
“Honestly, I’m hungry enough that I’ll eat anything. Pick what you want and give me whatever’s left.”
“Umm, no. You’re the sick one.”
“Exactly. I’m so drugged, it won’t matter. Besides, tomato soup is pretty much the only kind I really don’t like, so just give me something.”
In the end, she hands me the corn chowder and a bowl of canned fruit—peaches this time.
I end up scarfing down half the bowl in three minutes flat. Macy eats at a more sedate pace, taking a couple of bites and then asking, “Hey, why exactly were you in Jaxon’s room anyway? Last I heard, he was avoiding you.”
The last thing I want to do is tell Macy about how I was crying. I don’t want her to worry about me, and I definitely don’t want her thinking that she hasn’t been wonderful since I got here, because she has. “We were talking, and he offered to show me the meteor shower.”
“The meteor shower? That’s the best you’ve got?”
“It’s the truth. It was gorgeous. I’ve never seen one so bright before.”
She still looks skeptical. “And how exactly were you watching this meteor shower from inside his bedroom?”