That’s when Murphy felt the moment shift.
She watched in slow-motion. Tripp hit a piece of ice mid-turn and fell back. His arms flailed. He cried out. He went down.
His head hit a bench with a sickening thunk, sending shards of icy shock through Murphy. She looked from Tripp to the space where Claire sat, still making faces for the camera.
Seriously?
Murphy felt as if all the air on the platform had been sucked away. Tripp still lay on the ground. Was he dazed? He was going to miss his ride. She jumped when the train let out two short whistle blasts, pulling out of the station.
Tripp had missed it. The train was gone.
Chapter Three
Tripp wasn't getting up.
When he didn’t answer her call, Murphy ran and slid down on her knees, her fear as cold as the ground beneath her. His eyes were closed—waffles and cheese was he dead?
"Tripp?" She reached to shake him. No, that wasn’t right. Pulse. She needed to make sure he still had a pulse. She touched his neck gently. It was there, but faint.
“Tripp, wake up.”
He had fallen on the back of his head. She should check for a bump. She ran her fingers through his hair. There was a large lump on his skull and her fingers were coated with blood when she pulled her hand away. Her stomach dropped. She was not going to get sick. She steeled her nerves. He had to be ok. "Somebody help me!" She screamed over her shoulder. What do I do? What do I do? Where is the Station Master? Murphy had never felt so helpless. Should she leave him? Try to go find someone? “Someone call 911!" Owning a phone would be so useful right now.
The Train Master poked his head out of the ticket booth a cup of coffee halfway to his mouth. When he saw Tripp laying on the ground, and Murphy screaming at him to call an ambulance, he dropped the cup, ceramic shattering on the platform as her jogged toward them, phone already to his ear.
It seemed like forever and only a second before Murphy could hear the sirens. Time was always funny in moments like these.
"Murphy, what happened?" Mr. Gruber had appeared, surprising her. “The sirens woke me,” he said, pulling her back as the paramedics and first responders flooded around them.
Murphy wiped at her face, a mix of snot and tears on the back of her coat sleeve. "He jumped off the train to grab a bag and he ... and he ... he ... slipped and hit his head. I didn't know what to do." Her voice raised an octave.
Mr. Gruber pulled Murphy into his side, patting her arm. "There, there, he's going to be ok." He was just saying what anyone would say in this situation. But he couldn’t know.
“There’s so much blood.” Murphy rubbed her hands on her jeans trying to get them clean, shock setting in.
“Come on, honey, we can follow them to the hospital.” Mr. Gruber put his arm around Murphy’s shoulders and guided her to the bus, while the paramedics loaded Tripp, strapped to a gurney, into the back of the ambulance.
A numb haze settled over Murphy. She hardly felt the lumbering ride as Mr. Gruber did his best to keep the bus as close to the ambulance as speeds could allow. At the hospital she was pointed toward the waiting room by a round, kind-faced nurse. Mr. Gruber disappeared to make the necessary call to Mrs. Potts.
Murphy paced back and forth in front of the orange plastic seats, not understanding how anyone could actually sit in a waiting room. Back issues of random magazines were spread out on wooden side tables. Artwork in various shades of blues, greens, and oranges decorated the wall, making Murphy’s head hurt if she tried to look at it too long. Or maybe that was the terrible florescent lighting.
It wasn’t until they were transferred to the third floor that she finally sank into a waiting room chair. Mr. Gruber had finished with his call and sat next to her.
Murphy picked at the blood drying under her nails. She was so scared. No person should have to experience fear this deep. She rested her hands on her knees trying to keep them from bouncing.
Nurses came and went. No one had news or updates on Tripp’s condition. Even if they did, Murphy was sure they wouldn’t tell her anything. Wasn’t there something about not disclosing anything to a non-family member?
Murphy’s mind tingled. This was all too familiar. The scents, sounds, views. It didn’t matter this hospital wasn’t the hospital, it was still a hospital. Unshed tears stung her eyes. Everything was going to be ok. It wasn’t like before…
She drank cup after cup of disgustingly sweet cappuccinos from the complementary machine that was shoved in a corner of the waiting room. A married couple and their daughter sat for a while. Once they were informed their loved one had been moved to a different floor, they got up and left.
Murphy was relieved when Mrs. Potts showed up bringing sandwiches for both her and Mr. Gruber. Murphy picked at one not really hungry while Mrs. P tried and failed to engage her in conversation.
“I think I’ll head on back if you have everything handled here, Carol.” Mr. Gruber balled the paper from his sandwich and tossed it into the trash can.
“Why don’t you head back with Mr. Gruber, Murphy dear.” Mrs. Potts patted her hand.
Murphy felt the panic settle in her chest. Waiting for news at school would be worse than being at the hospital. At least here she felt like she was doing something — even if she was just sitting. Waiting. She frantically shook her head as the bite of sandwich she’d just taken stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Mrs. Potts looked at her quizzically before nodding her head just once. “You’re a good friend, Murphy Cain.” She turned to Mr. Gruber. “She’ll stay with me. The Harringtons are on their way from the city. She can wait and ride back with me.”
Stuffing himself back into his heavy coat, Mr. Gruber shuffled down the hallway, and for one brief moment, Murphy was a little disappointed in herself that she chose someone she barely knew over the faithful old man.
Mrs. Potts rambled on about how she had alerted Headmistress Kingfisher about the situation, but instead of coming home, the school matron decided to handle it from whatever European villa she had holed herself away in for the holiday. Mrs. Potts seemed less than pleased with that decision.
“Mrs. Potts, what am I doing here?” Murphy cut off Mrs. Potts. “Maybe I should have just gone with Mr. G.” The fact that Tripp’s family was on the way to the hospital, and that she would more than likely meet them, made her feel like the cappuccinos were going to come back up.
“Pish posh. You’re worried about a fellow student. There’s no shame in waiting for news.” Mrs. Potts said while absentmindedly flipping through an old copy of Better Homes and Gardens. “Besides, I’m grateful for the company.”
When Mrs. Potts stepped away for the umpteenth time to take a call, Murphy decided she was sick of sitting and let her feet take her where they may. Sometimes being ordinarily invisible had its perks.
Through hearing bits of gossip from the nurses, and what little information Mrs. Potts was able to give, Murphy could gather Tripp was still unconscious, but stable. At this point doctors deemed him comatose but they were hopeful his condition would improve.
Glancing up, Murphy realized she had wandered to the patient area. A paper sign announced that she had found herself at Tripp’s door. How had she gotten passed the nurses station? Her fingers grazed over the plastic name plate that held his name. She should peek in, see for herself that he was still breathing. She looked both ways. The hallway was surprisingly empty.
What in the world are you doing, Murphy Cain? This is crazy.
Ignoring herself, she took a deep breath and pushed her way into the room. The knowledge Tripp’s family would be arriving any minute, or that she could be discovered by a nurse, had Murphy’s stomach in knots. Still, she kept moving.
She was just going to see that Tripp was ok for herself, and then leave before his family showed up. No problem.
The room was mostly dark except for a small lamp on the table next to Tripp. Memories came flooding back to Murphy reminding her just how much she hated hosp
itals.
Tripp laid on the hospital bed, hooked up to machines beeping life into him. He looked so … small. She had remembering her father looking the same way. It broke her heart. Murphy sucked in her breath. She wasn’t expecting it to be so much like before.
She backed against the door, blinking away panic that promised to swallow her if she let it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she bit down on her lip until she tasted the tang of blood. This time was different. It had to be. Honestly, she was surprised that she made it in the hospital this long without freaking out. She clenched and unclenched her hands, breathing to the beat of the beep. She felt hot and cold all at once.
Nope. She couldn't do this. She couldn't stay here another minute.
Murphy flung the door open and rushed out of the room. She made a sharp turn around the corner and slammed into someone. Arms wrapped around her, holding her steady.
"Waffles! I'm so sorry." Murphy pushed hair out of her face and took a step back, tripping on her feet. The stranger's hands shot out again, and hands curled around her elbow, steadying her. She felt her face heat.
The stranger smirked. "Are you okay?" He was tall, way taller than Murphy, with sandy hair that looked as if it had a mind of its own poking in every different direction. And yet it had that on-purpose look to it as well. He stooped down to see Murphy's face. She quickly brushed away any lingering traces of tears.
Pasting a smile on her face she apologized again. "I'm fine. Sorry I bumped into you."
"It’s ok. Really. It's a great place to bump into people." The stranger chuckled at his own lame joke. He glanced over his shoulder and back to Murphy. His voice was warm with a twinge of a Scottish accent making Murphy’s ear perk. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Murphy nodded, staring at the toes of her beat up Converse. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
"I'm Hank. Like Tom Hanks, but not as famous and my first name is just Hank, not Tom.”
She looked up, bewildered. There was laughter in his blue eyes. Blue eyes that were so familiar. His grin coaxed one from her.
“There’s a pretty smile. Let’s try that again.” He stuck his hand in her direction. “Hi, my name is Hank.”
"Murphy Cain.” She shook his hand, noticing for the first time what he wore. He was decked out in a tux paired with a new pair of black Converse. "Nice. Um. Shoes,” she smirked.
He looked down and bounced on his toes. "What, these old things?" He leaned over and whispered conspiratorially. "Don't tell my mother. We were supposed to be going to a business dinner in the city, but then my brother decided to be an idiot and land himself in the hospital.”
Murphy felt like the air had been sucked out of the hallway. Brother decided to be an idiot…
“Tripp.” Murphy whispered.
“Yes. Are you—”
Hank’s question was drowned out by the blood pounding in her ears. If Hank was Tripp’s brother that meant his family had arrived. She wasn’t supposed to meet his family before Tripp could officially introduce her. Like that was ever going to actually happen.
As if the realization conjured them out of thin air, the elevators whooshed open. A woman in a long, dark blue dress, nose upturned, stepped out first. She was followed by a young girl in a black sequined dress who looked like she was about to burst into tears and a man dressed in a tux who looked like an older version of Tripp.
“I demand to know where they are holding my son.”
Several worried nurses looked in their direction. Two of the three grabbed clipboards and disappeared down the hall.
Hank’s eyes slid closed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “And they have arrived.” He spun on his very new Converse shoe. "Mother, this a hospital, not the county jail.” Hank gave the abandoned nurse a smile that begged forgiveness.
This was the perfect time for Murphy to disappear into the background, find Mrs. Potts, and head home. But just then Mrs. Potts rounded the corner and stepped up to greet the Harringtons as they walked toward Tripp’s room. She flashed a quick smile to Murphy but continued her heartfelt apologies, no doubt saving face for the school. Murphy did not envy her this moment. Hank took his mother's arm and followed Mrs. Potts down the hall. Tripp’s sister shifted not far behind, and his father trailed behind, fingers flying over the keypad on his phone.
Murphy needed air
Making her way back through the waiting room, she tugged her coat from the back of a chair and put it on, deciding to wait for Mrs. Potts downstairs, closer to freedom.
Murphy pushed the elevator door button.
"Hey, Cain. Wait up!"
Cain?
Startled, she turned and saw Hank jogging down the hallway toward her.
The elevator's door opened with a ding, and she stuck her hand out to keep it from closing.
“Mrs. Potts told us what you did for Tripp.” Hank put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet. “You should have said something.”
She chewed on her lip hopping the pain would lessen her focus on her embarrassment. She wasn’t used to so much attention. "It really isn't anything more than anyone else would have done."
Hank was shaking his head. “But still Mother and Dad would love to meet you. To thank you. How about tomorrow?”
She really shouldn't. She could say “thanks, but no thanks”, step into the elevator and go back to her life at Iverson — cleaning toilets. She didn’t want to meet Tripp’s family, she didn’t need to get involved with them. With the elite of Iverson. But part of her wondered what it could hurt? The twins wouldn’t mind running her into town. Maybe Tripp would miraculously wake up by then, and They’d get a chance to talk without an interruption from Claire. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. She glanced behind Hank down the hallway. She was just in Tripp’s room and had to leave because she felt like she was going to pass out. Did she really want to have to come back tomorrow and meet his family?
Curiosity killed the cat, Murph. Looking into Hank’s sparkling sapphire eyes that made her stomach do flip flops, she ignored her own warning and nodded.
“Great. Brunch is at nine. We can send a car for you. You’re at Iverson correct, or are you living off campus for the holiday?”
“I-Iverson.” She stammered out. Wait. Brunch? They weren’t going to meet at the hospital?
“Perfect. I’ll have a car pick you up a little before nine.” Hank flashed her another heart-melting as she stepped into the elevator. As the doors were closing she caught his last statement. “We’re excited to meet the new girl in Tripp’s life.”
Murphy’s stomach felt as if the elevator had just dropped nine stories instead of a slow three. New girl in Tripp’s life? What had she just gotten herself in to?
Notification Center
4 missed video chats from Emmaline Harris
Message from Floyd Taylor (05:24 PM)
Murph, where you at?
Message from Lloyd Taylor (05:27 PM)
Working on a new game. Need a tester. You in?
Chapter Four
Murphy wasn’t sure she had ever been so exhausted in her life. After finally getting home from the hospital, she’d had to scramble to help finish closing down the mess hall for the break. Since Murphy and Mrs. Potts had finished at the hospital well past the time they should have, Beth had been called in to help. She only agreed after being promised the twins wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near her.
Murphy didn’t mind the work, or the watching out for the tricksters. The mundane tasks helped keep her mind from wandering back to the hospital, Tripp, and the looming brunch.
It was barely nine o’clock and all Murphy wanted to do was sink into her bed and sleep until next Christmas.
Her computer dinged indicating a call coming through. Groaning she propped her tired body up on her elbow and dragged her computer closer.
“Hello?” Murphy muttered more into her pillow than toward the person on the other end of the call.
“Murphy? Is that you?” Emmaline’
s chipper voice came through overly loud to Murphy.
She rolled to her back pushing her hair back from her face. “Who else would it be, Ems? You called me.” She cringed at her tone.
“Excuse me, Oh Queen,’” Emmaline squinted into the computer as if she was trying to get a better look at Murphy. “Oh my sweet goodness, you look awful. Are you okay? I’ve been trying to reach you for forever by the way.”
Murphy clicked on her notifications. Four missed calls, all from Emmaline. She ignored the two messages from Floyd and Lloyd. “Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day.” She flipped to her stomach and, balling up her pillow, propped it under her chin. Looking at the clock she asked, “Isn’t it like 3 AM there?”
“I couldn’t sleep. Jet lag and all that,” Emmaline waved a hand and rolled her eyes. “What I really want to know is what happened at the platform? I saw Tripp slip, but the train was to far to see what happened. I’ve been watching social all day but no one has posted anything.”
Murphy blinked, surprised that it wasn’t on any social media sites. Surely she and Emmaline weren’t the only ones who saw Tripp fall. Why hadn’t Claire, or at very least, Nick or Jude, tried to get a hold of him. “Tripp is currently in a coma at Mercy General.” Murphy pointed to the computer screen at the soda her friend was downing. “And I don’t think that Diet Coke is helping with your jet lag sleeping problem.”
“What?” Em burst out, Diet Coke spewing from her nose. “Murph, spill,” she commanded from behind the sweatshirt sleeve currently holding her nose.
“I was standing on the platform, watching the train leave. It was almost out of the station and I was about to head back to the bus, but I saw Tripp jump off.”
“You totally thought he was jumping off for you, didn’t you?” Emmaline interjected.
“No.” Of course she did. A little tiny bit of her had hoped. “Claire was screaming about her Gucci. And Tripp was being her knight and rescuing her.” Murphy rolled her eyes.
It Happened at Christmas Page 3