Last Year's Mistake - Gina Ciocca Page 0,43
rushed over to my side. “They’re prepping you for a blood transfusion.”
“What?” I immediately felt like crying. “Blood transfusion” sounded so serious, so foreboding. So not what I wanted to be doing on the night of the Winter Swirl. “What’s wrong with me?”
Mom took my hand and squeezed it, which only succeeded in making me more nervous. “We’re not sure. You lost a lot of blood today, and they need to figure out why.”
The man, who introduced himself as Dr. Delano, cleared his throat and walked to my mother’s side. “Kelsey,” he said, adjusting his thick black glasses, “I was just telling your mother that I believe you may have a blood disorder. We’ll need to run some tests, of course, but it could be something as simple as a severe vitamin deficiency.”
“Simple” and “severe” didn’t seem to belong in the same sentence. As I recounted my symptoms in my head—everything from the bloodshed event nosebleed to the times my skin had bruised like overripe fruit, even if I couldn’t remember hurting myself—fear turned what was left of my blood into ice. “Or it could be something serious, like cancer, right?”
I’d seen one of those awful Lifetime movies about a girl with leukemia, and they’d given her the blood disorder line at first too. My mind reeled. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now.
Dr. Delano looked rattled, like he hadn’t expected me to have half a brain and put him on the spot. “We’ll have to rule it out,” he said cautiously. “But understand that serious blood disorders don’t have to be cancer. Either way, we’ll get to the bottom of it.” He gave a curt nod and left the room.
“Mom, he said ‘serious.’ ” My voice cracked and my lip trembled. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Honey, don’t listen to a word he says,” my mother said through gritted teeth. “He knows nothing, do you understand me? When the tests come back, we’ll figure out how to make you better. Until then, the transfusion will help.” She looked behind her, at the door where Dr. Delano had exited, and spat the word “douche bag” under her breath.
In spite of myself, laughter bubbled up in my throat. “Mom, did you just say ‘douche bag’?”
Her lips floated into a tired smile, and I huddled closer to her.
“Do I have to stay here tonight?”
My mother sighed. “You probably won’t have to, but they did say they might keep you for observation. If I can help it, you’re sleeping in your own bed.” She smoothed my hair away from my face. “And if you can’t, I’ll stay right here with you.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump that formed in my throat as I thought of everyone else getting their hair done, their nails painted, their makeup applied. Even though I’d told David I wasn’t going to the dance, I wanted to. I’d actually been fantasizing about shedding my usual jeans and ponytail to try out a different look, to wear a dress that made me feel pretty.
A hospital gown wasn’t quite the gown I’d had in mind.
My disappointment must have been obvious, because my mother left and returned a little while later with Miranda in tow—and a bottle of red nail polish from the hospital gift shop.
My mom painted my nails and Miranda curled up next to me and brushed my hair, while I tried not to think about the plastic bags suspended from a metal pole next to my bed, feeding disgusting things into my body for reasons I didn’t understand.
I’d sent David a text message to let him know where I was and why I wouldn’t be at the dance, but then had to shut my cell phone off following a look of death from one of the nurses. I knew he’d be worried, but I also knew he had Isabel to think of. So when a soft knock sounded at the door to my room, the last person I expected to see was David—standing there in a tuxedo, holding a plastic corsage box.
My mouth dropped open, and not only because I was shocked to see him.
He looked amazing.
His hair was freshly cut, and for once the short black spikes were more carefree than unruly. The cut of the tux showed off his broad shoulders and slim waist, and the color complemented his dark eyes. The more tentative steps he took toward the bed, the more I realized he smelled as good as he looked. Nothing that gorgeous belonged amidst the fluorescent lights