and my chest constricts. Oh, God, I died.
Sawyer
Dad
Nazareth
Jesse
Scarlett
Leo
Oh, God, I didn’t do any of it right.
“V?” Dad says, and there’s pressure on my hand like someone is holding it.
My chest. My heart. The pressure on my hand. I felt it all. I’m not dead. Not yet. I swallow and turn my head. It takes a lot of effort to open my eyes and when I do everything is blurry. Blinking doesn’t help. Just makes Dad a blob of a blur and I’m unable to make out anything else.
“Dad?” For as much effort as that took, I should have been a lot louder.
“I’m here, peanut.”
“I can’t see right.” Panic sets in. “It’s too blurry. I can’t make anything out.”
I can hear footsteps farther away, the squeak of a chair next to me and the pressure of Dad’s hold on my hand tightening. “We’ll figure it out. It’s okay, baby. I promise it will be okay.”
My mind runs at a million miles an hour, and I grab his hand back to make sure he won’t go away. “The tumor’s growing. I see Mom and I know I shouldn’t see Mom. I don’t want to die. I thought I did, but I don’t. I don’t want to die. Please help me not die.”
“Shh,” he says, and my hair is pushed away from my face. “We don’t know if the tumor has grown yet.”
“I’ve known. I’ve hidden it, it’s grown. I should have told you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. Everything’s okay. We’re in the ER. We think you had a seizure. We’re waiting on the nurses to take you to the MRI scan. We’ll know more then.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, and tears burn my eyes. I lied to him. I disappointed him. I’ve lied to myself. “I’m scared.” I’ve been scared, and I’ve been trying to tell myself that I’m not.
“I know, peanut.” His voice breaks, and he clears it. A hand on my face and my tears are brushed away. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”
My eyes close again, against my will, and my mind starts to drift. But then I snap my eyes back open. “Tell Sawyer I told you.”
“I will.”
“I mean it.”
“I will. I called Jesse. He and Scarlett are in the waiting room. They’re texting Sawyer and Leo with updates. Nazareth has been here in the room with me. He just left to get the nurse to tell them about your sight, but he’ll be back. Go back to sleep, V,” Dad says in a soft voice. “You’ve got a big fight in front of you, and you’re going to need your strength.”
VERONICA
Living.
I am alive.
But my brain …
isn’t quite working right.
It happened fast.
Maybe life happened slow.
My memories don’t work so good.
Not even when life is happening in the moment
I still can’t remember.
“When’s the surgery?” I ask.
“You already had the surgery,” Jesse says next to me. He’s in the chair next to my bed. His legs are stretched out, his baseball cap covers his red hair. He was watching TV, but now he glances over at me. The hospital room is dark except for the dim light over my bed. On the other side of the room, my dad is asleep on a plastic couch.
“When?” I ask.
“A few days ago.”
My forehead furrows. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“We did.”
I shake my head and stop as it feels weird. I go to touch, but Jesse reaches out and gently puts my hand down. There’s an IV in my arm, and I don’t remember that, either. “I only remember the ER.”
“That happened two weeks ago.”
I blink. “I don’t remember.”
“I know, and it’s okay.”
It seems like I should feel emotion, but I don’t. With how dark it is outside and how quiet it is in the hospital, it seems like I should be asleep, but I feel wide awake. A twinkling light catches my attention, and there’s a moment of cloudy awe in my hazy brain.
There are Christmas lights strung across the room. On the dresser across from the bed is a tiny prelit Christmas tree and a menorah along with wrapped presents. The menorah means Nazareth has been here. He’s Jewish, and I celebrate the holiday with his family.
“Is it December?”
“No. I wish I could take credit for it, but Sawyer and his friends did this for you. I have to admit, it’s brilliant. Nazareth brought the menorah in, and he’s been a show-off, bringing a present in every day.” Jesse tilts his head toward Nazareth