Dickensen Academy

by Christine Grabowski

  Did he mean he didn’t know about school or he didn’t know about Josh? I wasn’t about to ask. Dad looked beaten. I couldn’t believe he was returning to work. I hope he didn’t have surgeries planned for today. But knowing him, he’d drink another coffee on his drive and magically transform out of his father role as he strode through his own hospital’s doors.

  I didn’t question him further. Instead, I added a few textbooks to my bag before we left.

  As we rode in silence, a new thought flashed through my mind: if Josh died, the pressure on me would skyrocket since he wouldn’t be able to fulfill Dad’s dream to have another doctor, if not two, in the family—as if the pressure weren’t already high enough. Visions of me back at home with Dad hovering over my shoulder, expecting perfection, whooshed the air from my lungs, and I shuddered. But the moment that scenario hit me, I struggled to forget it. What a terrible sister I was to have such a selfish thought.

  ****

  After a full week at home, the daily hospital visits had become my new life, although my homework reminded me I had another one far from here. Had Ben learned to convey to Aditi? Were things still working out with Hannah and Grace as roommates? Was Caitlyn bothering Hannah? Did they miss me? I was curious but wasn’t up to talking to, or even emailing, anyone. They wouldn’t understand. So far my memories of Dickensen were clear, but I wondered if some awful memory wipe might be in store for me if I didn’t return.

  Over the weekend, Luke and Drew Miller visited. Drew rushed over and hugged me tight the moment he spotted me beside Josh. “I’m so sorry,” he said with tears in his eyes.

  Luke’s eyes were full of fear, and his hands trembled when he stepped into Josh’s room. I’d never seen him scared of anything. Luke’s bruises were fading, although his neck was still sore. He informed us he’d also visited Kellan, who was recuperating at home. Fortunately, he was going to be fine. Josh, as the driver, was liable for everyone’s injuries. It was hard to believe things could be worse, but they would have been had his driving severely injured or killed one of his friends.

  After several minutes of awkwardness, Drew suggested we leave Josh with Luke and take a walk. Although cold and windy, the fresh air was a relief. We found a sheltered bench in a courtyard between buildings and sat huddled together.

  I’d forgotten how much I missed him and appreciated the comfort of a lifelong friend.

  At last he said, “Hope I didn’t upset you back there. I’m such a wuss. But I’ve been thinking all week it could’ve been me in your position.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If that SUV had come from the opposite direction, it would’ve smashed into Luke instead. Then I would’ve been the one stuck here all week.” Drew grimaced. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. But you know what I mean. It must be rough.”

  He was the first person to empathize with me. I’d never considered the accident from his perspective. But it got me thinking. He was right. If only a slight change was made that night—a touch of the brakes, a bit more gas, or even another movie showing—life would have been so different for Josh. For me. For all of us. How much of our lives were altered by so many seemingly trivial decisions? But as fate would have it, Josh was left in a coma while Luke walked away.

  We sat there, not saying much else until Drew had to leave with his brother.

  Julia stopped by over the weekend too. After a brief visit with Josh—ninety seconds, tops—she whispered, “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Ten minutes later, we were seated at a corner table in the cafeteria. It was quiet since few people ate at this time of day. We bought two sodas and a huge chocolate chunk cookie to share. A sugar high would help me get through another long afternoon.

  Julia broke the cookie in half and gave the bigger half to me. “I don’t know how you do it. I’d go crazy here after a day.”

  “It’s not exactly fun. But I can’t imagine leaving the hospital right now.”

  “So tell me. How is he?”

  Julia patiently listened while I filled her in on everything I knew about my brother’s condition. She even hugged me when I broke down at one point. It was nice to feel close to her again.

  “I’m thinking I might not return to Dickensen.”

  She sipped her soda. “Really? It’s that bad?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m thinking maybe I should stay here with my family, however it all turns out.” It wouldn’t be so terrible to transfer to Haller Lake. I’d miss my new friends, but we’d keep in touch—if that was allowed. And Ben, well, that would be even tougher. But we could always try the long distance thing, and I could see him on school vacations. Maybe I’d become close again with Julia. She was here now. That had to say something. And I’d have Drew. It was a huge school. I’d make new friends. Moving back home wouldn’t be the end of the world…so long as Josh got better.

  “I’m so sorry, Autumn. I’d love for you to transfer to Haller Lake. Not because you have to but because you want to.”

  I nodded. “So what’s up with everyone these days?”

  Some of Julia’s usual enthusiasm came back. Obviously she was relieved to switch subjects. She recapped everything happening with our old friends. As it turned out, many of them had found new social circles in high school like Josh had foreseen.

  After she left, I thought long and hard about my situation. My perspective on life had changed this week. My family was so important, despite the pressure they put on me to be someone I’m not. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a dream-maker. And now that I was removed from it all, I could admit to myself I’d been living with fear of the unknown aspects of telepathy. Besides, I could hardly believe how stressed I’d become with each conveyance failure. After being in the hospital with Josh, I realized I hadn’t known true stress before. The life I had at Dickensen now seemed frivolous—a life for someone naive who didn’t realize it could all be taken away in an instant.

  Chapter: 36

  My voicemail was full of messages, and my phone had countless unanswered texts and emails. Everyone wanted to know how Josh was doing. So far, I hadn’t responded. Not even to a text. Every time I tried, my fingers froze. And it felt wrong to check in on social media or post status updates about his condition.

  On Sunday before I left for the hospital, our home phone rang.

  What area code is that? I picked it up, expecting to take a quick message for Mom or Dad. “Hello?”

  “Autumn!”

  “Aditi?” A mixture of emotions ran through me. Part of me warmed I had a friend who hadn’t given up on me, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I’d barely been able to think about my Dickensen friends for more than a fleeting moment here and there.

  “Yeah, it’s me. I can’t believe I finally got you. How’s it going?”

  “Uh, not that well.” I walked upstairs to my bedroom for privacy. “Sorry I didn’t return your calls. I haven’t had the chance.”

  “It’s okay, I get it. If something happened to my brother…well…anyway, I called most days, but only left a couple of messages. I figured there was no point leaving more.”

  “I haven’t been home much. I’m practically living at the hospital,” I said as I paced my room.

  “That must be rough.”

  I bit my lower lip and stared up at the ceiling. I noticed a pale gray watermark near the window. In the pre-coma era, Mom would’ve wanted to get that taken care of immediately. But now, it probably wouldn’t even register if I mentioned it. “Yeah. But I feel like this is where I should be.”

  “Of course. How is he?”

  I gave a five-minute spiel on my brother’s condition. “Maybe you could pass that info along to everyone? I don’t have it in me to keep repeating this stuff.”

  “Sure, I’ll send a message. I’m in San Jose, for break.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Spring break. It seemed like a million years ago I’d looked forward to this week.

  “But you should at least reach o
ut to Ben. He’s freaking out you’re ignoring his messages.”

  Guilt hit me. I pictured Ben calling and texting and emailing me, growing more and more frantic with each passing day. But I was having a hard enough time holding it together here in Seattle. Opening up to him might push me over the edge. Besides, what would I say? When I’d left Dickensen, things were so good—no, make that great—between us. And now, with Josh, it seemed wrong for me to have been so happy. I supposed I could send a short message about Josh and skip over the us part. If us still existed.

  “You still there?” she asked.

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry, Aditi. You’re right. I’ll call him or something.”

  “I was hoping you’d only been called home as a precaution, and you’d be back soon. But when Mr. Robbins spoke to me about my sleeping arrangements, I knew it was bad.”

  “What’d he say?” I hadn’t even considered how this would impact Aditi. I eased myself down at my desk and began doodling on a scrap of paper.

  “Do you know Sarah Chen? She’s a sophomore.”

  “Is she the one with the pink streaks in her hair?”

  “Yeah. This year, there are an odd number of sophomore girls—someone must not have come back from last year—so Sarah was given a single because she didn’t need a roommate. Apparently at the start of the school year, she could already convey across the hallways.”

  “Sounds kind of like Ben.” I found I’d drawn several stick figures and took a pink highlighter and colored one figure’s long hair.

  “Yeah, he’s trying. He keeps conveying his ski dream to me each Sunday, but nothing’s coming through. I can tell he’s frustrated. But hey, it’s a sophomore skill.”

  I couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved, even though it was my idea in the first place. The farther ahead he soared, the farther behind I fell. Jealous wasn’t the right word for how it made me feel. More like inadequate, like I’d never be good enough for him. And now, maybe I’d never catch up or even become a dream-maker.

  “Anyway, Mr. Robbins arranged for Sarah to sleep in your bed on my conveyance nights, beginning after spring break. On your nights, she’ll convey to me from her room.”

  It probably wasn’t the first time a student had to leave for an emergency. I couldn’t help but wonder if a standard protocol existed for dealing with students once the crisis passed. So far I hadn’t heard anything from Dickensen faculty except homework assignments and thinking of you types of messages. I’m pretty sure I’d be welcomed back. But what would happen if I chose not to return? Would I be subject to the disciplinary committee? Or were exceptions made in cases like mine where I hadn’t done anything wrong?

  Aditi’s voice lifted. “The good news is the room will stay open for when you return.”

  “Well that’s good…I guess.” I wasn’t sure if I should say anything. “But don’t count on me coming back.”

  “You never know. Josh might get better. You said the doctors don’t know.”

  “True.” But what I didn’t say was the longer I remained at home, the more convinced I was I belonged in Seattle with my family regardless of what happened with Josh. “Well, I better go. My grandma’s here. She’s going to drive me to the hospital soon. Say hello to everyone and remember to give them the update.”

  “Well, okay. I hope he wakes soon.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter: 37

  Josh’s new room could’ve passed for a flower shop. Colorful bouquets released their fragrant scents and masked the antiseptic smells. Helium balloons vibrated in the airflow from the vents. I sat on the vinyl chair, alone, next to his bed and took it all in. This was so much better.

  Only yesterday Josh had been in the Neuro-ICU, and I was present when the nurses unplugged some of the monitors—the doctors had gradually decreased his medications all week to the point where he was breathing on his own. When they unplugged the ventilator, I swear I could hear the silence. The ventilator had been so loud. Scary too, with its measured intake and outtake of air. Now it was easier to believe he was sleeping peacefully.

  He was still in a coma, and the doctors made no assurances that he’d ever wake up. Josh was in a coma when he arrived at the hospital, so removing the coma-inducing drugs didn’t guarantee he’d wake even after they worked their way out of his system. Nevertheless, my parents hovered more, constantly checking his monitors and speaking to him, clearly looking for indications he was coming out of it.

  More than ever, Mom wanted to ensure Josh wasn’t left alone, which was why I was here with him now. She told me when he woke up, she wanted someone to be with him. I wasn’t sure if she truly believed he’d wake or if she’d said that for my sake. She was on the phone, as usual. Probably speaking with an insurance company about Josh’s medical treatment or the car accident. Or maybe calling into her practice to discuss her own patients’ care.

  I leaned toward his bed and began to tell him a story, inside my head, about his upcoming graduation—I was too embarrassed to speak out loud, in case somebody entered his room.

  You’ll wear a heavy, green silk robe over your shirt and tie, like all the other guys. The girls will wear gold ones with their fancy new heels peeking out.

  I’ll be in the bleachers, halfway up, squished between Mom and Dad. Grandma and Grandpa Clarke, Aunt Kelly, and Uncle Michael will be there too. Uncle Greg will drive over for the weekend to join us, and he’ll bring his girlfriend. Even Grandma Mattison will fly out to watch you graduate.

  The band will play “Pomp and Circumstance” as the graduates file into the gymnasium. You’ll be a valedictorian. When it’s your turn to give a speech, you’ll talk about the accident and how it changed your life and inspired you to be the best person you could be. Our family will listen with tears rolling down our faces, even Dad.

  When the ceremony is over, you’ll exit with the graduates, and we’ll find you in front of the high school in a sea of green and gold. Afterward, we’ll take photos on the steps. It’ll be a beautiful, sunny June day.

  Finally, we’ll all drive home. Grandma Mattison will sit up front with Dad while Mom will ride back with us. The rest of our family will follow in their own cars. Afterward, we’ll have a party in our backyard.

  But remember, you need to wake up and return to school for it to all play out.

  ****

  Every day, often several times, I went through this exercise. With each rendition, my story grew more elaborate. After a few days, I converted it to the dream format. Why not? It was worth a chance. Maybe I could somehow reach him.

  As soon as I switched to telepathy, it was as if the cell reception had gone from no signal to five bars, and I was speaking to the real Josh rather than to his unconscious form laying in front of me. I immersed myself into my dreams, losing all track of time. I swear he could hear me, although of course, he couldn’t talk back—his side was on mute.

  ****

  More days passed, and Josh simply lay there. Dr. Johnston would periodically check in on him. He’d sail into the room, perform a few tests, review my brother’s chart, and scribble some notes. If Mom or Dad were there, he’d speak with them for a few minutes before leaving.

  My parents’ faces were covered with deep lines of worry, as if they’d aged five years in the span of two weeks. They spoke optimistically, but the fear in their eyes made me question if it were all an act. They encouraged me to talk to Josh. I wanted to tell them I already was, telepathically. But they would look at me with pity, believing all the trauma of the past couple weeks had pushed me over the edge to madness. And perhaps they’d be right. What did I know about conveying? My perception that Josh was latching on to my mind might have been my imagination, something to keep my spirits up. But until he woke—or died—I wasn’t going to stop. This might be my last chance to communicate with my brother.

  ****

  Each time Mom, Dad, or the medical personnel stepped out of Josh’s hospital room, the tension left my body. I’d begin to convey to him, not o
nly the story about his graduation but a new one. I told Josh how he’d attend medical school after graduating from UW. For his residency he would choose neurosurgery because of his ordeal at Harborview. Besides, he’d always wished to be a surgeon like Dad.

  Again, like with the graduation story, it became more elaborate with each retelling. I explained how he did so well in med school he would attend a top program for his residency. Other times I’d add in details about how Josh would compare surgeries with Dad. Josh would talk about the intricacies of the brain, while Dad would discuss the complexities of the heart.

  But never did I add anything about the medical field I might choose. I didn’t feel in my heart I wanted to become a physician, and I had to truly believe my story to communicate it to Josh. With him laying before me in a coma, it didn’t feel right to lie.

  ****

  Mom pulled on her coat, then picked up her purse from the table in my brother’s room. “Are you sure you want to stay here, Autumn? I could drop you off at Julia’s on the way to the house.”

  “No, I’m good here. Go home. Do your things. You’ll feel better. You’ll smell better too.” Mom’s hygiene was fine, but I’d say anything to get her to crack a smile these days.

  She rewarded me with a little smirk. “Okay. I won’t be much more than an hour.” She leaned down and pecked Josh on the cheek.

  Once she was gone, I pulled a chair alongside Josh’s hospital bed. I didn’t even need to meditate to get into the right mode. I simply focused on his cerebral cortex and began the conveyance steps. I envisioned us in our twenties sitting next to the fireplace in our parents’ house having a conversation. I could feel the heat on my back and see my brother at my side with the flicker of orange light dancing across his body.

  “Remember ten years ago when I went off to boarding school?”

  “Yeah,” you’d say.

  “What if I told you they were hiding a big secret? They were teaching the students to become dream-makers, and we’d use telepathy to send dreams to our roommates. I could never make it work. But I received all these elaborate dreams from my teachers.”