Grinning, I told the truth. “On a bridge.”
Jen sighed and headed for the front doors. “Fine, don’t tell us.”
This time, I bought magazines in the gift shop instead of a stuffed toy. And like Friday, when I got to Brittany’s room, she had no visitors. The shades were drawn along with the bed curtains, and the smell … was indescribable. Davina actually took a step back, her nose wrinkling in horror, but Jen clamped a hand on her shoulder and shoved her forward. Her determination to be a good friend boosted her up to decent human being in my mind.
“Who is it?” Brittany sounded hoarse, as if she had been crying.
“Me, Jen, and Davina. We thought we’d read Cosmo and have some girl talk.” These were the last words I could’ve ever imagined saying. Until today, I’d never picked up a single woman’s magazine.
“That’s nice of you. Is … my mom around?”
Damn.
“I didn’t see her,” Jen said softly.
“You guys don’t have to stay,” Brittany mumbled, sounding reluctant.
“It’s okay,” Jen said.
“Let’s settle in.” Davina was calmer, breathing through her mouth.
I could only think, if it’s bad for us, imagine how Brittany feels.
For an hour or so, we took quizzes like “How to Tell if He’s the One” and Jen read aloud an article called “Rocking His World in 5 Easy Steps.” It was so bad, it was funny, and to my surprise, I wasn’t the only one laughing. Before, I’d always imagined that beautiful girls pored over this stuff seriously, as if it were some kind of bible, but that didn’t seem to be the case with these three. Even Brittany was giggling in tiny choking gusts. She might be having trouble breathing, but I was afraid to upset her by peeking around the curtain.
Brittany whispered, “Thanks for coming, you guys. It means a lot to me.”
Davina was making a joke when Brittany wheezed and then there was a wet sound, a splatter, and I leapt to my feet. No time to think about whether she’d want me to—I yanked open the curtain and even in the gloom, I saw so much blood, blood everywhere, staining her gown, her sheets, pouring from her mouth in a river of red. Jen came to my shoulder and screamed while Davina fumbled for the call button.
I wheeled and ran to the door, banged it open and yelled, “Nurse! Doctor! Somebody, we need help in here. Oh my God, hurry!”
The machines attached to Brittany were going crazy, and pretty soon, there was a team with a crash cart shoving us out the door. Jen was shaking and Davina was so pale she looked green under the fluorescents. My skin felt like it was too small; I couldn’t sit still, so I paced while they worked.
Eventually, a nurse shooed us down to a waiting area. “You can’t loiter here, you’ll bother the other patients.”
“I had no idea she was so sick,” Davina kept saying.
Jen was silent, a look of horror locked in her eyes. What was left of Brittany’s face … dear God. I’d seen pictures on the Internet that horrible, but … no more, I can’t. With shaking fingers, I texted Kian some directions, along with, Come up. Please. I need you.
Five minutes later, he found me. He dropped into the chair next to me and wrapped his arm about my shoulders in a move so natural, I could believe we’d dated all summer. I could get lost in his lies every bit as easily as his eyes. And that scared the shit out of me.
“What happened?”
“Brit’s really bad. She started hemorrhaging right in front of us,” Jen answered.
Without thinking, I reached for Jen. She held on like she was full of helium and in danger of floating away into an empty sky. On her other side, Davina looked like she needed comfort, too, so Jen put her hand out. We sat like that, not talking, just holding hands, while hospital staff came and went. Nobody would tell us anything.
Around half past five, Mrs. King stumbled into the lounge. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut, and I could tell she hadn’t been sleeping. I had seen her from a distance at school functions, but the coiffed society matron bore little resemblance to the distraught, disheveled mess who collapsed in the chair next to Davina. Mrs. King scrubbed trembling fingers through her tangled hair and repressed a sob.
“I went home to shower,” she whispered. “And to try calling her dad again. He’s in Singapore this week.”
Davina reached out and took the older woman’s hand, looking like she had no idea what to say. None of us did. Finally Kian murmured, “Are they treating her?”
Mrs. King nodded. “They wouldn’t let me stay. The nurse called and I got back as a fast as I could. It was rush hour.”
She started crying then and Davina patted her on the back. The only sound in the waiting area came from Mrs. King’s soft, choking sobs and my own breathing. Kian didn’t do this. He’d have to be an utter monster to sit here with Brittany’s mom if he had anything to do with her condition. Still, a knot formed in my stomach until I wanted to scream.
Belatedly, I texted my parents. It was a school night, yeah, but if they thought schoolwork was more important than somebody’s life, then their priorities were seriously screwed up. At six thirty, I went down to get coffee and sandwiches, mostly because it was something to do. Passing out food and drinks and pretending to eat carried us past seven. I wasn’t sure when she started, but Mrs. King prayed, though I wouldn’t have taken her for a religious woman. Prior encounters had made me think she was cold and controlling, but maybe she was one of those mothers who pushed because their standards were set high, not from lack of love.
Around eight, I was sitting on the floor, propped up against Kian’s knees when the doctor—at least I think he was a doctor—came into the lounge, along with the nurse who had gossiped with me the first time I visited. They both wore such grave expressions that I was worried. Tension tightened my shoulders until my skin felt wrapped in razor wire.
Then the doctor said, “Mrs. King, let’s talk privately.”
Jen squeezed my hand hard as Brittany’s mom left. She followed the trio with her gaze, then took a deep, shivery breath. “What should we do?”
I had no idea.
Davina said, “Let’s wait until she comes back. Maybe Brittany’s stable now or they need her to sign a form for more tests or something.”
Twenty minutes later, Mrs. King stepped into the waiting room, looking absolutely ravaged. “Thank you three so much for coming and for … being with Brit. If you hadn’t been here…” Her voice broke, so she tried again. “It’s … over. You can go home now.”