Almost Dead (Dead, #1)
Page 15
“Well, we’ll work on your cognitive and motor skills later. Your father and brother will be here soon for lunch, and I don’t want to keep you from any important family gatherings.” He grins.
Ignoring him, I ask, “How long before I can get out of this bed?”
“If everything goes as planned, maybe another few weeks. You’ll have physical therapy after that, to get you back to where you were before.”
Before. Before the accident. Before my life was turned upside down. Before everything went downhill.
I have a long road ahead of me, but I don’t mind facing it. Knowing what’s waiting on the other side is a
relief. For most people, it’s the not knowing that bothers them. It’s not being able to answer the question, “Have I given it all I’ve got?” It’s dying completely alone.
But for me, it’s the completion of a second chance. It’s not taking life for granted. It’s creating moments that take my breath away.
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epilogue • flora
four months later
I’ve almost fully recovered. There are still tender spots and nasty scars, but I remind myself every morning that Laney didn’t make it, that her family suffers a tragic loss. The only thing that’s kept me comforted throughout all of this mess is my knowledge that Laney’s with Sara. Of course, I can’t explain this to her family. I can’t look them in the face and tell them I know exactly where she’s at and what she’s doing. They’ll think I hit my head a little too hard in the accident, or that I suffer from some sort of post-traumatic stress.
I wasn’t able to attend the funeral, but I heard it was touching, and slightly impressive. Laney’s parents made sure she had the biggest headstone out of anyone in that graveyard—probably anyone in Briarhaven. Two days ago, I saw it for the first time, and I can confirm the thing is oversized, and probably overpriced. Laney would be proud.
“Flora! You’re going to be late for school!” Mom calls.
“Coming!” I finish brushing my hair and jab a couple of earrings in before padding down the stairs.
Mom finishes pouring her coffee into a thermos. “Waffles are in the microwave, and here’s your orange juice.” She pushes the glass toward me.
She’s been a lot better about caring since the accident. Not all of her time, or Dad’s, is spent with Derek anymore. They split it. Like this weekend, for instance, Mom and I will be shopping. She insists I buy new clothes before heading off to college. Dad, on the other hand, is more than happy to run me here, there, and everywhere I need to go. I refuse to buy another vehicle. Part of me is terrified I might be pushing my luck.
“I’ll be in the car,” Mom says, closing the front door.
I gulp down orange juice and snatch a waffle for the road. Mom left the orange juice carton on the counter. Again. This is, like, the third time in a week. By now, I should be used to putting it back.
As soon as the refrigerator door closes, a piece of Mom’s notepad paper falls to the floor. I pick it up, about to place it on the fridge, when I realize there’s a message scribbled on the front.
I’m still around, freak. Boo! (Isn’t that what ghosts say?)
—L
P.S. — Sara says hi.
I really do miss her sometimes. But I’d never tell her that. I’m glad she’s okay in Lichburn. And even if it sucks that we won’t see each other anytime soon (at least, I hope not), we will see each other again someday. Who knows, maybe she’ll change her mind about Lichburn and take Sara’s place. Maybe she and I will hang out in the Crystal Meadow, with Sara. Maybe we’ll laugh about this crazy experience.
For right now, though, I’m going to enjoy my time in this world. There’s no more static and no more dreary gray. All colors surround me—vivid yellows, pinks, reds, purples, greens. Even the sky is the most striking shade of blue. And, when winter arrives, I’ll be able to feel the snowflakes landing gently on my face, then fade away, as if they were never really there.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My endless gratitude goes out to my editor for this story, Rachel Bateman. She’s awesome.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rebecca Rogers expressed her creative side at an early age and hasn’t stopped since. She won’t hesitate to tell you that she lives inside her imagination, and it’s better than reality.
To stay up to date with Rebecca’s latest books, check out her website at www.rebeccaarogers.com or find her on social sites such as Goodreads, Facebook, and Twitter.
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