Chicken nuggets?
The memory floated away as soon as it formed, and I couldn’t place the voice or tell if it was even real or just from a dream.
“Thank God.” Mom bent over, carefully kissing my forehead and then my nose and then my chin. “Oh, thank God. Thank God.” She kissed my forehead again. “How are you feeling?”
“Confused,” I forced out. Really, extraordinarily confused.
“She doesn’t remember.” Lori rose, smoothing her hands over her hips. “She doesn’t remember the car accident at all.”
“That’s not uncommon with these types of injuries along with heavy sedation,” the man in the white lab coat said. “Her memory will most likely come back either completely or with a few patches once we get everything out of her system.”
Heavy sedation?
Mom took Lori’s place, sitting the closest to the bed. She picked up my hand, the one with the IV. “This is Dr. Arnold. He was the one who...” Lowering her chin, she shook her head as she drew in what sounded like a halted breath.
I knew whatever she couldn’t say was pretty serious, and as I stared at her, I saw her in my mind, sitting at the kitchen table, poring over contracts. She’d been wearing her reading glasses, and she’d told me that when my phone rang again, I had to answer it. And she’d said something else.
Be careful.
Always.
When had that been? Saturday. Saturday before—
Dr. Arnold sat on the edge of the bed, crossing one knee over the over. “You are a very lucky young lady.”
Focusing on him, I decided I was going to have to take his word for it, because I had no idea what was going on.
Mom squeezed my hand, and when I glanced at her, she looked like she was on the verge of tears. Her eyes were just as puffy and red rimmed as Lori’s.
The doctor reached to the front of the bed and lifted a chart up. “Other than tired, how are you feeling?”
I swallowed and it was like sandpaper rubbing together. “Tired. And I...I don’t feel good.”
“That’s probably the leftover effects of the sedation,” he said, running his fingers along the center of the chart. “We’ve got you on some strong pain relievers right now, so that can also make you feel a little sick. That said, how is the pain?”
“Um...my head hurts.” I glanced at Mom, and she smiled reassuringly. “My chest hurts. Everything...hurts.”
“You took quite a beating,” Dr. Arnold replied, and my eyes widened. A beating? I thought it had been a car accident. Before I could ask, he continued. “You suffered a concussion, but there’s been no evidence of swelling of the brain. As long as that remains true, we’re going to be out of the woods in that area.” He scanned the chart. “You might’ve figured out that your left arm is fractured. It’s going to be in a cast for anywhere from three to six weeks.”
I blinked slowly. A cast?
But my arm couldn’t be fractured. I had practice and games coming up.
I lifted my left arm and it throbbed dully. Yep. There was definitely a cast around my forearm. My gaze flickered back to the doctor. Nothing about this felt real.
“I...I can’t be in a cast. I play...volleyball.”
“Honey.” Mom squeezed my hand gently again. “There is no need to worry about volleyball right now. That is the last thing you should be stressing over.”
How could I not stress over it? It was my senior year. Coach thought I could catch the eye of a scout, and Megan would be so ticked off if I couldn’t play.
Dr. Arnold closed the chart. “You’ve had some very serious injuries, Lena, including trauma to your chest, which caused a bilateral pneumothorax.”
I stared at him blankly. Pneumo-what?
He smiled faintly, obviously reading my confusion. “It basically means you had air in your chest cavity, which put pressure on the lung and prevented it from expanding. Oftentimes it’s single sided and the puncture is so minor that all we need to do is get the air out.”
I had a feeling, based on how my sides felt like they were packed in Ace bandages, that wasn’t what had happened here.
“In your case, you broke ribs on both sides, puncturing your thorax on both sides, so both of your lungs collapsed and were unable to compensate. I cannot stress how serious of a situation that is. When we have two lungs down, we often aren’t having a conversation with the patient later.”
Mom lifted her other hand, smoothing it over her face. She stopped with her fingers covering her mouth.
The doctor draped one arm over his knee. “We had to go in and do surgery on both sides.” He gestured to the location on his body. “To remove the air and seal off the leaks.”
Holy.
Crap.
“We wanted to give your lungs time to recover, so we’ve had you heavily sedated and let the machines do the breathing for you, but we didn’t have to keep you under very long. You were ready to wake up yesterday.” Dr. Arnold smiled again.
I had a vague recollection of hearing people talk about me waking up, but there was something else existing on the fringes. Other people talking. Someone screaming—no, the screaming wasn’t from the hospital.
“As I said, you’re a very lucky young lady. We were able to remove the ventilation tube, but we’re going to hold you in the ICU for another day or two, since your blood pressure is a little low. We want to keep an eye on that.”
I understood what he was staying and it made sense, but a huge part of me couldn’t believe it.
“Once we think you’re ready, we’ll move you into recovery so we can monitor for infection and inflammation. We’ll get you started on breathing exercises later today, and by tomorrow we’ll have you out of this bed, walking for a little bit.”
I could barely process this.
“If all goes well, which I believe it will, you’ll be back home by the beginning of next week.”
Beginning of next week?
“You’re going to be bruised and sore for some time, and I think volleyball is going to be sidelined for quite some time.”
My heart sank. No. I had to play. I could—
“But you should heal a hundred percent and there should be no long-term effects within reasonable exceptions. But we’ll tackle more of that later.” Dr. Arnold stood, and I wondered what he meant by within reasonable exceptions. “The seat belt saved your life. If the others were wearing—”
“Thank you,” Mom cut in quickly. “Thank you so much, Dr. Arnold. I cannot express how grateful I am—how grateful we are—for all that you’ve done.”
Wait a second. There was something missing here. Something more important than volleyball and chest tubes. How did I get here? What happened?
“Others?” I gasped out, glancing at Lori.
My sister paled as she plopped down in the chair beside where Mom stood.
Dr. Arnold’s face went expressionless, like he’d slipped a mask on. He said something about how long I would be expected to be in the hospital and then hightailed his butt out of there.
I shifted my gaze to Mom. “What...what did he mean about others?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” my sister asked when Mom didn’t answer.
Mom glanced at her sharply. “Not now, Lori.”
“Yes.” I took a shallow breath. “Yes. Now.” I tried sifting through the gaps and the empty parts. I remembered talking to Mom on Saturday, telling her I—“I went...to Keith’s party.” Closing my eyes, I ignored the throbbing ache in my head. “I remember...”
“Remember what?” Mom whispered, slowly sitting back down.
My jaw pounded as I ground my teeth together. The pool party. Sebastian. Thinking he was going to kiss me again. Being thrown in the pool. Talking—no, arguing—with him afterward, then... “I remember sitting down with...with Abbi by the pool and... I don’t remember anything else.”
I love you, Lena.
I love you, too.
Who had said that? Abbi? Megan? It was one of them.
I lifted my hand in frustration, wincing as the IV tugged at my hand.
Mom caught my hand, carefully lifting it to her lips. She pressed a kiss against my knuckles. “You’ve just had a lot of information dumped on you right now. You should be resting so we can get you out of here and back home. We can talk about this later.”
What had the doctor said? The seat belt had saved my life, but the others—he made it sound like the others hadn’t... Oh my God. There were others in the car with me.
“No.” The beeping in the machines picked up, matching my heart rate. Trying to sit up, I felt like I was being dragged down through the bed. “I want to know...about this... I want to know what...happened right now.”
Tears filled Mom’s eyes. “Baby, I don’t think we should talk about this right now.”
Someone screamed—Megan?
“Yes,” I gritted out. “Yes, we should.”
Mom closed her eyes briefly. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Just say it,” I pleaded as my heart thudded so fast I thought it would rip through my chest. Was it Megan? No. Abbi? I couldn’t breathe. Sebastian? Oh God, Sebastian had given me a ride to the party in his Jeep. Oh God.
I tipped my head back, struggling to get enough air in my lungs.
Mom carefully lowered my arm. “You weren’t in the car by yourself.”
Oh God. Oh God.
Pressure clamped down as my gaze moved frantically from Mom to Lori. My sister looked to the small window, squeezing her eyes shut. “You were in the car with Megan and...and her cousin Chris. Phillip and Cody were with you, too.” Lori blinked as she faced me, and then I saw them—the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Lena. They...they didn’t make it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“No,” I whispered, staring at Lori. “No. That’s...that’s not right.”
Dropping her head, she placed her hands over her face. Her shoulders shook, and a tremor coursed through my body. My heart was racing as I struggled to get in enough air. “No,” I said again.
“I’m sorry,” she replied.
I flipped my gaze to Mom. “She’s wrong. Right? Mom, she...she has to be wrong.”
“No, baby.” Mom still held my hand—held it tight. “They...they passed away.”
Shaking my head slowly, I pulled my hand free. I lifted my left arm. A sharp stabbing sensation radiated all the way up to my shoulder. “I don’t...understand.”
Mom took several deep breaths and seemed to collect herself. The sheen of tears glistened in her eyes as she leaned over, resting her hands beside my hip. “Do you not remember anything about the car accident?”
I tried in that moment, really tried, but all I could grasp were pieces of conversations. Something about chicken nuggets, and I...I could, if I tried really hard, remember standing in the driveway of Keith’s, looking at Cody and thinking something and saying—
Maybe I should drive?
That had been me. I had asked that question. I knew I had. The feeling of unease surfaced, of hesitation and concern. I saw myself stopping at the back passenger door of an SUV—of Chris’s SUV. Maybe I should drive?
No. No.
I shut my eyes tight as a knot of emotion expanded in my chest. I didn’t understand. I’d been sitting with Abbi. Sebastian had driven me to the party. How had I ended up in the car with them? How had Megan—
I couldn’t think of that. I just couldn’t do it. “What happened?” I rasped out. “Tell me...everything.”
Several moments passed. “The police...a deputy knocked on the door at eleven o’clock. I was still up. I was in the kitchen, and when I looked outside and saw him, I knew something had happened. The police don’t show up—” Mom cut herself off, and I opened my eyes. Her lips trembled. “He told me that you had been in a very bad car accident and had been medevaced out to INOVA. That I needed to get to the hospital immediately.”
“She called me when she left. I drove up here, overnight.” Lori scrubbed a hand over her forehead. “They didn’t tell us anything at first. We heard that there were two patients brought in here. Both were in surgery.”
I shifted my legs under the thin blanket. “Two? Is—”
“It was Cody,” Lori said, shaking her head as she looked up at the ceiling. “He passed away last night.”
Last night? Sunday? “How?”
“We don’t know exactly. I haven’t spoken to his parents since they were called to his room,” Mom answered, her gaze searching mine. “All I know is that he had severe head trauma. I don’t think...” She exhaled roughly. “I don’t think they ever expected him to wake up.”
No. He couldn’t be gone. I remembered talking to him at Keith’s. He’d been joking about stealing Sebastian’s keys and going for a ride. There was no way he was...he was dead. Cody was...was the quarterback. He’d be playing in Friday night’s game alongside Chris and Phillip. Rumor had it Cody would play for Penn State. He was just talking to me, wasn’t he? Joking and messing around.
But if Chris and Phillip were with us, too, that meant...that meant they didn’t...
My mouth moved, but I couldn’t find words. I couldn’t find the courage in me to ask what I needed to. I couldn’t face what I wanted to know. A knot formed in the back of my throat as I kept moving my lips, but there was no sound.
Mom touched my right arm, the pressure light, and she blew out a shaky breath. “Megan and the others died... They think they died on impact. None of them were wearing their seat belts.”
“How?” I asked, and I didn’t even know why I was asking. I had enough answers to understand what she was saying. Cody was gone. Phillip and his stupid, stupid shirts were gone. So was Chris.
And Megan... We were going to go to college together. Maybe even to play college volleyball. She was one of my closest friends, my loudest and most spontaneous friend. She couldn’t be gone. That was not how these things turned out.
But she was.
They were all gone.
Wetness gathered under my eyes. “How?” I repeated.
Mom didn’t answer. Lori did, and she did so without looking at me. “The news said they were ejected. The SUV sideswiped a tree and then flipped over a couple of times.”
The news? This was on the news?
I had no idea what to think except this couldn’t be real. Pressing my head back against the pillow, I ignored the flaring pain that shot down my spine. I wanted to get out of the bed. I wanted to get out of this room, away from Lori and Mom.
I wanted to be back home where everything was normal and right. Where the world was still revolving and everything was fine. And alive.
Mom said something, but I didn’t hear her as I closed my blurry eyes. Lori responded, but her words made no sense to me. I counted to ten, telling myself that when I opened my eyes, I would be in my bed at home and this—all of this—would be a nightmare. Because it couldn’t be real. This couldn’t have happened.
Megan was still alive. Everyone was still alive.
“Lena?” Mom’s voice intruded.
No one had died. Megan was fine. So was everyone else. I was going to wake up and everything was going to be normal and okay.
Mom spoke again, and no matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t waking up.
This wasn’t a nightmare I could wake up from.
“I don’t want...to talk anymore,” I said, voice trembling. “I don’t...want to.”
I was greeted with silence.
So I lay there, keeping my eyes tightly squeezed shut as I told myself over and over that this wasn’t real. None of this was real.
This couldn’t have happened to us, because they didn’t deserve
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