make sure you don’t have anything hurt in a major way. Take your time. We won’t be going anywhere for a while.”
I gritted my teeth, braced my good hand on the floor, and pushed myself off of her. Pain exploded from my finger and shot up my arm all the way to my neck. I must have blacked out, because I don’t remember how I ended up on my back with the manager of Starbucks kneeling over me and staring into my eyes.
The woman’s long blonde hair fell from her shoulders and dangled to my cheeks, tickling my nose as she spoke. “We’ve called 9-1-1. Just lie still. They’ll be here in a minute. Do you want some water?”
I swiped her hair from my face with my good hand. “Where’s Katie?” I tried to prop myself on an elbow, but the pain jerked me down.
“I’m right here.” Katie leaned over me. “Don’t try to move. You’ve been shot.”
“But I don’t get shot.” Granted, not the smartest thing I’d ever said.
Katie placed a wet napkin across my forehead. “Apparently you do now. It looks as if you caught a bullet intended for me. Thank you.”
I tried to lift my head just enough to see my side, which felt as if someone had taped a hot curling iron to it. I couldn’t see it, but I could see the floor. There wasn’t too much blood there. I took that as a good sign. My finger seemed to be the bigger problem. The pain alternated between deep throbs and stabs so vicious that I envisioned some horrible little creature gnawing at my skin from the inside, trying to burst free and scamper toward the door. That would have been fine with me. If he was causing pain like this, the sooner he left the building, the better.
The room began to float. I found Katie’s face again and fought to keep her in focus. “Anybody hurt?”
“It doesn’t look like it. Just you.”
I closed my eyes and found that made it easier to think. A woman and child were crying near the front of the store. Without opening my eyes, I said, “Scary, huh?”
Katie patted my shoulder. “Less scary than it would have been. You’re a brave woman.”
I almost said, “Or a stupid one.” For once, though, I gave myself a break. Even I could see that I’d done something good. I’d tried to save Dad and he died; I’d tried to save Simon and he died. This time, I’d done my job. I’d saved Katie Parst. She was right here, alive and breathing—because of me. Despite the pain, I allowed myself to smile.
Within a few minutes sirens were blaring and paramedics and cops were everywhere. I must have blacked out again, because the next thing I knew, they were wheeling me into the back of an ambulance parked in front of the Starbucks. Katie stepped in behind the gurney.
The paramedic held up a thick hand. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ll have to meet us at the hospital.”
“She saved my life. I’d like to ride with her.”
By that time they had given me a shot for the pain. I was feeling woozily talkative. “Can’t she ride along? She’s my sister. Mom will want to know what’s going on.”
Katie looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I raised mine right back at her. Then, if that hadn’t been enough to red-flag my lie, I gave her an exaggerated wink.
A crowd of people had gathered on the sidewalk, and two police officers were doing their best to hold them back. The pain medicine was great stuff. I lifted my head and waved with my good hand, as if I were homecoming queen. The crowd clapped and whistled. A man in the back shouted, “Way to go, lady. You’re a hero!” The crowd clapped again.
The paramedic looked at the crowd and then back at Katie. “Sister, huh?” He smiled. “Hop in.”
Katie jumped in the back just before he closed the doors. The inside of the ambulance began to whirl, and I remember Katie squeezing my good hand and saying, “Whether you like it or not, from now on I’m part of your life.”
Days later Katie told me that I responded, “Thanks. I love you, Mom.”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
IN THE
Debbie Viguié
Dana Mentink
Kathi S. Barton
Sonnet O'Dell
Francis Levy
Katherine Hayton
Kent Flannery, Joyce Marcus
Jes Battis
Caitlin Kittredge
Chris Priestley