jerk.”
“Yeah. That’s why I dumped him.”
“Good for you. You’re better off without him.”
“Yeah, he was all into himself. I can’t imagine not caring about unfortunate people like that poor girl in there.”
I followed her gaze into the room, but I couldn’t see anything except part of a white curtain around a bed and the electric glow of machines. I wished they’d stop talking and leave so I could sneak inside the room. It was hell to be so close, yet unable to even see my own body.
“It’s tragic,” the intern went on. “She’d just won a scholarship and had her whole life ahead of her. After I finish my rounds, I can tell you more if you’re interested.”
“Oh. I am.”
He glanced at his watch. “My break’s in a half an hour. Want to meet in the cafeteria?”
“Would I! But my break isn’t for an hour.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
Ms. Candy Striper moved toward the elevators and I bent my knees, ready to make a run for Room 311. But she only took a few steps and then stopped, turning back, her expression curious. “I was just wondering … ?”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“You said it was just a matter of time for that girl.” She pointed to my room. “How much time?”
“Until the heart transplant recipient is ready.” He frowned. “Two days.”
I sagged against the wall.
Two days—only two freakin’ days!
I had to get back into my body—ASAP!
But the intern seemed in no hurry to leave. He spent like twenty minutes talking with a nurse. They consulted a medical chart, speaking in the foreign language of medical jargon. Finally he left, but wouldn’t you know? The nurse didn’t. She walked into Room 311, shutting the door so I could no longer see the white curtain surrounding my real body. I threw my hands up, wanting to scream .
Instead, I sucked in deep breaths (like my book Chill Out, Charge Forward advised for staying calm in frustrating situations), and counted the ticking seconds.
I had reached 137 seconds when I heard a strange sound. A dark and furry creature streaked past me so fast the breeze swirled my hair into my eyes. When I pushed back my hair, the black blur was disappearing down the hall. A dog? What was a dog doing running loose in a hospital? And what was the weird glow around its neck?
A Comforter!
“Cola!” I shouted, jumping up. “ Cola!”
This was the best news I’d had since dying. Grammy Greta must have sent him to help me. So why was he running? Was I supposed to follow him? He must be leading me somewhere important. So I shot down the hall after my dead dog.
Racing around a corner, I dodged past a surprised-looking man. Murmuring an apology, I caught a glimpse of a shaggy tail and raced past a busy pharmacy, up a flight of stairs, and through a set of doors marked “No Admittance.” A guy in scrubs shouted for me to slow down, but otherwise no one paid much attention. Emergencies happen all the time in a hospital.
Still, it was weird that people noticed me but not Cola. How could anyone miss a medium-sized shaggy black dog? It was like he was invisible.
Invisible?
That made sense because Cola’s job as Comforter would be difficult if everyone could see him. But if this was true, why could I see him?
Was it because of our bond when he was alive? Or maybe because of my whole freaky out-of-body experience? But why didn’t he just come up to me? If he was here to rescue me, running away didn’t make sense . Still, his showing up when I was in trouble was too big a coincidence for it to be random. Cola must be leading me somewhere—hopefully to Grammy.
Running was agony; my throat burned and I ached everywhere. Still, I kept going, determined. Walls and people blurred as I ran, gasping for breath, heart pumping so fast I was afraid it would burst. Couldn’t keep … keep going … going much longer. I didn’t have the breath to shout for Cola to slow down, so I screamed it in my head.
Cola! Stop already!
And he did.
At the
“Yeah. That’s why I dumped him.”
“Good for you. You’re better off without him.”
“Yeah, he was all into himself. I can’t imagine not caring about unfortunate people like that poor girl in there.”
I followed her gaze into the room, but I couldn’t see anything except part of a white curtain around a bed and the electric glow of machines. I wished they’d stop talking and leave so I could sneak inside the room. It was hell to be so close, yet unable to even see my own body.
“It’s tragic,” the intern went on. “She’d just won a scholarship and had her whole life ahead of her. After I finish my rounds, I can tell you more if you’re interested.”
“Oh. I am.”
He glanced at his watch. “My break’s in a half an hour. Want to meet in the cafeteria?”
“Would I! But my break isn’t for an hour.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
Ms. Candy Striper moved toward the elevators and I bent my knees, ready to make a run for Room 311. But she only took a few steps and then stopped, turning back, her expression curious. “I was just wondering … ?”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“You said it was just a matter of time for that girl.” She pointed to my room. “How much time?”
“Until the heart transplant recipient is ready.” He frowned. “Two days.”
I sagged against the wall.
Two days—only two freakin’ days!
I had to get back into my body—ASAP!
But the intern seemed in no hurry to leave. He spent like twenty minutes talking with a nurse. They consulted a medical chart, speaking in the foreign language of medical jargon. Finally he left, but wouldn’t you know? The nurse didn’t. She walked into Room 311, shutting the door so I could no longer see the white curtain surrounding my real body. I threw my hands up, wanting to scream .
Instead, I sucked in deep breaths (like my book Chill Out, Charge Forward advised for staying calm in frustrating situations), and counted the ticking seconds.
I had reached 137 seconds when I heard a strange sound. A dark and furry creature streaked past me so fast the breeze swirled my hair into my eyes. When I pushed back my hair, the black blur was disappearing down the hall. A dog? What was a dog doing running loose in a hospital? And what was the weird glow around its neck?
A Comforter!
“Cola!” I shouted, jumping up. “ Cola!”
This was the best news I’d had since dying. Grammy Greta must have sent him to help me. So why was he running? Was I supposed to follow him? He must be leading me somewhere important. So I shot down the hall after my dead dog.
Racing around a corner, I dodged past a surprised-looking man. Murmuring an apology, I caught a glimpse of a shaggy tail and raced past a busy pharmacy, up a flight of stairs, and through a set of doors marked “No Admittance.” A guy in scrubs shouted for me to slow down, but otherwise no one paid much attention. Emergencies happen all the time in a hospital.
Still, it was weird that people noticed me but not Cola. How could anyone miss a medium-sized shaggy black dog? It was like he was invisible.
Invisible?
That made sense because Cola’s job as Comforter would be difficult if everyone could see him. But if this was true, why could I see him?
Was it because of our bond when he was alive? Or maybe because of my whole freaky out-of-body experience? But why didn’t he just come up to me? If he was here to rescue me, running away didn’t make sense . Still, his showing up when I was in trouble was too big a coincidence for it to be random. Cola must be leading me somewhere—hopefully to Grammy.
Running was agony; my throat burned and I ached everywhere. Still, I kept going, determined. Walls and people blurred as I ran, gasping for breath, heart pumping so fast I was afraid it would burst. Couldn’t keep … keep going … going much longer. I didn’t have the breath to shout for Cola to slow down, so I screamed it in my head.
Cola! Stop already!
And he did.
At the
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