by Meg Cabot
‘Oh!’ Lulu cried as one of the machines next to my bed began to ping crazily. ‘What the — how do you reconnect this thing? Oh, here… stick it back on. STICK IT BACK ON!’
I didn’t know what she was talking about. Apparently, the wire had been connected by a sticker… to my forehead. I put it back where it had been, and the pinging stopped. Lulu immediately relaxed.
‘Phew,’ she said. ‘Oh my God, seriously, they are guarding this place like it’s the freaking front door to Cave. And for once, I am so not on the list. Which, whatever. Did you know Kelly won’t say what’s wrong with you? The press is having a field day. You should see what they’re saying, Nik, it’s unfreakingbelievable. I’m just saying no comment cos of what happened last time. But you look way better than you did then. Seriously. Even though you’re doing the no-make-up thing. Cosy, stop licking her.’
I finally managed to pry the dog away from my face.
But then I saw something that distracted me from both the dog licking me all over and the girl I had never met before who was acting like she knew me.
And that was that there was a vase of red roses sitting on the windowsill — along with about a million other bouquets.
But none of the others was red roses.
Wait a minute. Had my hallucination been real? Had Gabriel Luna really come to visit me, and sung me to sleep while holding my hand?
No. No way.
‘So when are they letting you out of here?’ Lulu wanted to know. ‘Also, what do you want me to tell Brandon? Because he’s been calling and stopping by the loft nonstop. He’s the one who figured out where you were. And, oh my God, you know that guy from the Stark grand opening? That British guy, the singer, what’s his name… ’
‘Gabriel,’ I said. And my heart gave a thud at the mere mention of his name. Man, I was in trouble. Especially since I didn’t even like him. I liked another boy entirely. I mean, didn’t I?
‘Right, Gabriel,’ Lulu said. ‘Anyway he sent a whole BASKET of roses to the loft. Seriously. The whole place stinks of roses now. That guy’s got it bad for you. Anyway, Brandon saw them — he stopped by the other night, thinking he’d catch you at home, which, you know, as if — and now I think he thinks there’s something going on with the two of you. You and that British guy. Which is good, right? Brandon totally deserves it. I saw him dancing with Mischa again at Cave, don’t be mad, but you’ve been kind of MIA, and — Cosy, stop it.’ She tried to pry the dog’s tongue off my face again, but it didn’t do any good. For such a small puffball of a creature, Nikki Howard’s dog possessed a surprising amount of saliva. ‘God, I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have brought her.’
‘No,’ I said, reaching up to stroke the little dog’s soft, curly hair. ‘It’s OK. It’s just that… ’
Lulu had taken a can of energy drink from her enormous tote, and now she cracked it open and took a sip. ‘Sorry,’ she said, when she noticed I was looking at the bright pink can. ‘I’m so hung over. Oh my God, I was soooo wasted last night, all I had was a PowerBar for lunch and then some popcorn and like twenty mojitos and, ooooh, did you see this?’ She waved an enormous ring in my face. ‘Justin got it for me. Pink sapphire. What do you think? I’m worried he’s thinking — you know. And I am so not ready to go there. What am I, gonna squeeze out a couple of spawn like Britney? No thanks. But I’m keeping it anyway, because it’s so pretty.’
I blinked at her. Was any of this really happening? Was Lulu Collins really sitting in my hospital room, telling me that Gabriel Luna had sent a basketful of roses to me, care of the loft she and I supposedly shared, and showing off a ring given to her by someone named Justin (she had to mean Justin Bay, star of the movie version of Journeyquest. That’s who she was rumoured to be dating, right? At least according to Frida’s latest copy of Us Weekly, which I’d just happened to pick up and read. Cover to cover)? What was going on?
Maybe this was a continuation of the dream I’d had about Gabriel Luna.
Except that hadn’t been a dream, had it? Because the roses he’d given me were sitting right there on the windowsill.
And what about this dog? This dog wasn’t a hallucination. I could feel its little heart pounding next to mine as it licked my face with its hot, wet tongue.
No, I’m awake. I’m definitely awake.
Which was why I said to Lulu, ‘I’m sorry. But I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. I don’t… I mean, have we… met?’
Lulu’s little rosebud mouth fell open. And when it did, I could see she had a wad of pink gum in there.
‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘Is that what’s going on? Do you have amnesia? Because you hit your head pretty hard when you passed out, Nik. Although Gabriel was all over you in a second, and so were the paramedics. Well, they were already there, working on that girl the TV fell on—’
‘That’s another thing,’ I said. ‘My name’s not Nik—’
Lulu’s mouth closed with a snap. Her eyes narrowed. And suddenly she was on her feet, her hands on my shoulders, shaking me, while ‘Cosy’ barked with alarm.
‘What have they done to you?’ Lulu shrieked. ‘Who was it? Who did this? Was it the Scientologists? I told you to stay away from those people!’
Being shaken — even though it was by a tiny girl who looked like a walking toothpick — was causing all the machines at the side of my bed to start beeping. Also, I can’t say it felt all that good.
‘Oh my God, Nik, it’s me, Lulu,’ the girl, who was now kneeling beside me on my bed, was screaming at me. ‘Your best friend! Your room-mate! Or loft-mate, because, you know, we never could share a bathroom, let alone a bedroom, because with your acid reflux, ew, but—’
‘What’s going on in here?’ demanded a shrill voice from the doorway.
And I turned my head to see a nurse staring at us in horror.
‘Get away from her!’ the nurse yelled. ‘Orderly! Orderly!’
And the next thing I knew, a shrieking Lulu was being yanked off me by a burly man in blue scrubs, while a nurse had grabbed the little white dog — who was snarling pretty ferociously for such a powder puff — and was carrying it out of my room while my mom and Dr Holcombe came rushing into it, both looking white-faced and concerned.
‘Nikki,’ Lulu screamed as they carried her off. ‘Don’t worry, Nikki! I’ll be back! I’ll get to the bottom of this, if it’s the last thing I do —’
Then a door slammed, and both she and the yapping dog were gone. The only sounds were the mad pings and pongs coming from the machines by the side of my bed.
‘Are you all right, honey?’ Mom asked me, her eyes wide with alarm.
‘I’m fine,’ I said as Dr Holcombe bent over me, checking his wires.
‘But what’s going on? Why did she think she knew me?’
‘We’re very sorry about that, Emerson,’ Dr Holcombe said. He’d succeeded in shutting off most of the alarms. Now there was just the steady ping-ping of my heart monitor. ‘The nurses are supposed to keep out non-family members… ’
‘But I don’t know Lulu Collins,’ I said. ‘Why did she think she knows me? Why was she calling me Nikki? Mom — what’s going on?’
‘Doctor,’ Mom said worriedly She was chewing on her lower lip, something she only did when she was seriously upset about something — like Dad not getting back to Manhattan in time for one of Frida’s clarinet recitals or my science fair. ‘Shouldn’t we—’
‘Absolutely not,’ Dr Holcombe said. He was messing around with a needle. ‘Emerson needs rest.’
‘But, Doctor—’
‘The best thing for her is to… ’
I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation. That’s because Dr Holcombe did something with the needle he’d been holding — even though I didn’t feel a thing — and the next thing I knew, I was dozing off again, way too sleepy to keep listening.
If I’d known that that sleep was the last truly restful one I was to have for a long, long time, I’d have tried to
enjoy it more.
Six
When I opened my eyes again, it was night-time, and Frida was peering down at me. I mean, really staring, like I was some homeless guy passed out in a subway car, covered in my own vomit.
When she saw I was awake, she jumped about a mile back and stared at me with wide, terrified eyes.
I mean it. She looked completely freaked.
emong
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked her. My voice still sounded weird — all highpitched and sort of… I don’t know. Girlie, or something. But whatever.
‘Have I got something on my face?’
I lifted my hand to feel my face. But all I felt was smooth skin. Which was… well, unusual. I do the best I can, of course, but let’s just say I couldn’t imagine after however long I’d been in the hospital, my complexion was looking its best.
But I didn’t feel a single bump. Which was a miracle in itself.
‘What —’ I broke off. Man, my voice sounded strange. It had been a while, I realized, since I’d had anything to drink. In fact, I was drying up with thirst. Maybe that was it. Maybe I just needed to drink something.
‘Is there water in here or anything?’
‘W-water?’ Frida stammered. ‘You want s-some water?’
‘Um, yeah,’ I said. I actually felt awake enough to try to sit up.
Big mistake. The machines next to me started pinging like crazy. Also, all the wires connected to me pulled me back down against the pillows.
Not to mention, my head kind of throbbed when I tried to lift it.
‘I don’t think —’ Frida looked horrified — ‘I don’t think you’re supposed to try to get up yet.’
‘I kind of got the message,’ I said. I reached up to touch one of the wires and found that it was only attached to my head by a sticker. Using my new, long press-on nails, I peeled the sticker off, along with the wire. No pinging. Hmmm.
‘I don’t think you’re supposed to be doing that,’ Frida said, her gaze owlish.
‘It’s fine,’ I said, pulling off more stickers. Of course, I had no idea whether or not it was fine. I just didn’t want to be attached to machines any more. Why should I be, when I felt fine? I mean, except for the throbbing head. Oh, and the parched throat.
‘Is there any water around here?’ I asked Frida. ‘Does my voice sound weird to you?’
But Frida just stood there, looking like she was about to cry.
And for the first time I noticed she hadn’t bothered with her morning blow-dry. Her hair was a mass of staticky tangles threatening to engulf her pale, tear-stained face. She didn’t have any make-up on either, and instead of being dressed at the height of Teen Chic, she had on one of Mom’s old sweaters and a pair of her most faded jeans.
This, more than anything else — including the roses from Gabriel Luna, which I saw were still on the window-sill, though they were a lot droopier than before, and that extremely odd visit from Lulu Collins — disturbed me. I mean, Frida has been scrupulous about her appearance since… well, her whole life. I can’t remember a time when she wasn’t freaking out over a blackhead, much less when she last left the house without mascara. And here she was, cosmetic free, and looking like death warmed up.
‘Hey,’ I said. ‘What’s the matter with you? You look like somebody just told you American Idol is fixed. Which I’m pretty sure it is, by the way.’
‘I… ’ Frida blinked a few times. And an actual tear slid out from beneath one eyelid. ‘I just can’t believe… it’s you.’
‘Well, of course it’s me,’ I said. Seriously, what was wrong with my little sister? I’ve always thought she spent way too much time obsessing about how she looks, and not enough time reading books… even comic books. But still. This was ridiculous. She looked like… well, as Lulu would put it, crap. ‘Who else would it be?’
Something about that question made Frida’s face crumple. And suddenly, she was crying. Really crying.
‘Hey,’ I said, concerned. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Well, well, well, look who’s up,’ boomed a voice from the doorway, startling both of us. I turned my head, and saw Dr Holcombe coming into the room, followed by my parents. Both of them smiled when they saw I was awake.
‘She… she wants some water,’ Frida squeaked, still looking wideeyed as a rat caught in the headlight of a Number 6 train.
‘I think we can safely accommodate that request,’ Dr Holcombe said in a cheerful tone. ‘Go and ask the nurses for a pitcher and a glass, will you, Frida?’
Frida, looking relieved to have an excuse to get out of my room, skittered away. Meanwhile, Dr Holcombe found some of the stickers — the wires still attached — that I’d pulled off. He made a tsk-tsking noise.
‘Now now,’ he said, lifting one and placing it gently back on my forehead. ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re still a very sick girl.’
‘I don’t feel sick,’ I said. ‘Except for my head. My head hurts. But just a little.’
‘That’s to be expected,’ the doctor said, still messing with my wires. ‘You’ve got to rest.’
I looked at my parents for some sign they disagreed with the doctor. Because he had to be exaggerating. Since I felt relatively all right. I mean, if I was sick, wouldn’t I feel worse?
But Mom and Dad both looked pretty worried.
‘You should do what Dr Holcombe says, honey,’ Mom said, patting my hand. ‘He knows what he’s doing.’
That was probably true. But still.
‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘What’s wrong with me? What happened?’
‘They’ve got you on some pretty heavy duty medications,’ Dad said in this weirdly cheerful tone. Kind of like he didn’t actually feel cheerful, but someone had told him to act that way. Around me, anyway. I don’t know what made me think of that, but once the idea occurred to me, I couldn’t shake it.
‘That’s right,’ Dr Holcombe said, sounding pretty cheerful himself. ‘And with luck, we’ll be weaning you off some of those medications soon. But not quite yet.’
So I was on drugs. Well, that made sense. I’d been pretty sure I had to be, considering how much I’d been sleeping… not to mention the hallucinations.
But a glance at the windowsill told me not all of it had been in my head. Also, the droopy state of the roses told me something else.
‘How long?’ I asked.
‘Until we can start cutting back on your medications?’ Dr Holcombe was checking the machines next to my bed. ‘Well, that’s hard to say—’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I mean how long have I been in the hospital? How much school have I missed?’
‘You don’t need to worry about that, Em,’ Dad said, in his fake cheerful voice. ‘We’ve talked to all your teachers, and —’
They’d talked to all my teachers? They’d been to my school? Oh my God. Why couldn’t this part be a hallucination, and not the part where Lulu Collins thought she was my best friend?
‘How long?’ I repeated, my weird voice — what was up with that anyway — trembling a little.
‘Not long at all,’ Dr Holcombe replied. ‘Just a little over a month.’
‘A month!’ I tried to sit up, but of course all that happened was that the machines on either side of my bed started going nuts — especially the heart monitor, because I was having a panic attack thinking about all the work I was going to have to make up. Plus, I felt dizzy. And not just at the prospect of all the homework awaiting me.
It was of course at this point that Frida decided to walk back into the room, holding a water pitcher and glass she’d snagged from somewhere.
Hearing all the commotion, she froze in the doorway, apparently thinking
I was having some kind of attack.
‘Is she — is she —’ Frida stood there, bug-eyed and stammering.
‘She’s fine,’ Mom said emphatically, pressing down on my shoulder to keep me from sitting up. ‘Em, stop it. You have a lot
more important things to worry about than school right now.’
Was she kidding? What could be more important than school?
‘I’m gonna be held back!’ I insisted. ‘I’m going to have to repeat eleventh grade!’
‘No, you aren’t,’ Mom said. ‘Please, Em. Calm down. Doctor, can you give her something—’
‘Oh no,’ I yelled. ‘You are not putting me to sleep again! I need my laptop! Somebody needs to go home and get my laptop so I can start catching up. Does this room have Wi-Fi?’
‘Now now,’ Dr Holcombe said, chuckling a little. ‘Let’s take it one step at a time, young lady. Frida, come here with that water.’
Frida, still looking at me like I was some creature who’d crawled from the deep, came forward, holding the glass of water she’d poured with a trembling hand.
‘H-here,’ she said.
I lifted my hand and took the glass from her — noticing again, as I did so, the glamorous long fingernails she’d glued over my bitten ones.
‘Thanks — and for the manicure too,’ I added.
‘I… I didn’t give you a manicure,’ Frida said in a voice that shook.
‘Right,’ I said. I took the glass…
But because I wasn’t allowed to sit up, it wasn’t easy to drink from it.
Also, somehow I missed my mouth, so the ice-cold water went pouring down my neck and into my hospital gown.
Which just made me madder than ever. ‘What the—’
‘Now now,’ Dr Holcombe said, mopping up the worst of it with his own handkerchief. ‘See what I mean? Let’s take things one day at a time, shall we? Homework can wait. Want to try that again?’
I really was parched. I nodded, and this time Mom helped me get the cup to my lips, and the water — the coolest, most delicious water I had ever tasted — made it into my mouth instead of all down my gown.
‘There now,’ Dr Holcombe said. ‘That’s better. Do you think you’ll be wanting to tackle some food soon?’
Just the word food made my stomach rumble. I nodded eagerly, and Dr Holcombe looked pleased.
‘Frida,’ he said to my sister. ‘Why don’t you run down to the cafeteria and get something your sister might like. What do you feel like eating, Emerson?’