sirens, police sirens, people hurrying every which way.
He hadn’t slept since, of course, so his senses were oddly distorted—colors were too bright, noises too
shrill, smells too acrid. Time was disjointed. For example, hadn’t it been at least two hours since Heather’s parents had disappeared with a doctor into Heather’s room, telling him they would be out in ten minutes?
What little peace he had would be shattered when Heather’s sisters arrived from their colleges and Heather’s friends stormed the place the moment school let out. A bunch of those friends had already camped out in the waiting room through their lunch period, spewing millions and trillions of words.
But Sam would suffer them. He would deprive himself of food and drink and sleep and continue to torture himself with this ridiculous soap opera as punishment, laughably slight though it was.
What was the punishment for? For contemplating a breakup with Heather not half an hour before she nearly bled to death. For sitting here, his skin intact as a newborn’s, while Heather lay slashed in a coma. For thinking nonstop of
that girl
.
Mistake. Big mistake. Better not to think of thinking about her because then suddenly he was thinking of her. No. Stop. Heel. New thought.
New thought … He dragged his mind back to an absorbing topic, one he could worry and fiddle with obsessively, like a bloody hangnail. What was that girl’ s name? The one Tina and Co. had blathered
on about for a solid hour? Maia. No. What was it? Gaia? Something like that. How he hated her. Loathed and despised her. What kind of person would let an innocent girl walk straight into a situation they knew was deadly? How petty and small and cowardly this girl Gaia must be.
Of course, the knife-wielding devil who attacked Heather deserved the real blame. But he was beyond hating. He was beyond imagining. Gaia, on the other hand, was a classmate. She was one of them.
Ah. This was good. Righteous indignation got him back on course every time. If he could just keep this focus, keep railing loyally against Gaia, he wouldn’t have to think for minutes at a stretch of
that girl
.
The Boyfriend
GAIA DREADED THIS WORSE THAN she would dread a group hug with Ella and George or thirty-three simultaneous root canals or even trying out for the cheer-leading squad. But she would make herself do it. She would drag herself right up to the eighth floor of this hospital, past the bevy of Heather’s Mends who detested her, the desperate parents who were
too broken up to care about her, the steadfast, adoring boyfriend who’d maybe take a nanosecond from his grieving to curse her name. It was the right thing for Gaia to do. The fact that she dreaded it so much only made it seem more necessary.
Gaia emerged from the elevator and hesitated in front of the nurses’ station.
“You’re a friend of Heather Gannis?” the orange-haired nurse asked without even looking up from her computer.
“I—”
“Waiting room on your left,” the nurse said, still not looking up.
Gaia loitered another moment, feeling wrong about going to the waiting room under false pretenses. But what was she going to do, pour out her heart to the overburdened nurse? Like she’d care that Gaia dumped coffee on Heather or that Heather bitched her out at a party?
“Okay,” Gaia said, as meekly as she’d ever said anything. “Thanks.”
Walk. Walk. Walk, she ordered herself.
Okay, there they were, spilling out into the hallway. The Friends. When they saw her, would they make a scene right there in the waiting room? Throw stones? Burn her at the stake?
The first murderous glance came from Tina herself. Many others followed as Gaia attempted to slip
past the too full room. The murmur of hushed conversation stopped.
Tina gaped at her but was apparently so appalled, she couldn’t speak. Instead the good-looking boy who’d been with Tina last night, the old suede-jacketed star of Gaia’s cafe fantasy, stepped
He hadn’t slept since, of course, so his senses were oddly distorted—colors were too bright, noises too
shrill, smells too acrid. Time was disjointed. For example, hadn’t it been at least two hours since Heather’s parents had disappeared with a doctor into Heather’s room, telling him they would be out in ten minutes?
What little peace he had would be shattered when Heather’s sisters arrived from their colleges and Heather’s friends stormed the place the moment school let out. A bunch of those friends had already camped out in the waiting room through their lunch period, spewing millions and trillions of words.
But Sam would suffer them. He would deprive himself of food and drink and sleep and continue to torture himself with this ridiculous soap opera as punishment, laughably slight though it was.
What was the punishment for? For contemplating a breakup with Heather not half an hour before she nearly bled to death. For sitting here, his skin intact as a newborn’s, while Heather lay slashed in a coma. For thinking nonstop of
that girl
.
Mistake. Big mistake. Better not to think of thinking about her because then suddenly he was thinking of her. No. Stop. Heel. New thought.
New thought … He dragged his mind back to an absorbing topic, one he could worry and fiddle with obsessively, like a bloody hangnail. What was that girl’ s name? The one Tina and Co. had blathered
on about for a solid hour? Maia. No. What was it? Gaia? Something like that. How he hated her. Loathed and despised her. What kind of person would let an innocent girl walk straight into a situation they knew was deadly? How petty and small and cowardly this girl Gaia must be.
Of course, the knife-wielding devil who attacked Heather deserved the real blame. But he was beyond hating. He was beyond imagining. Gaia, on the other hand, was a classmate. She was one of them.
Ah. This was good. Righteous indignation got him back on course every time. If he could just keep this focus, keep railing loyally against Gaia, he wouldn’t have to think for minutes at a stretch of
that girl
.
The Boyfriend
GAIA DREADED THIS WORSE THAN she would dread a group hug with Ella and George or thirty-three simultaneous root canals or even trying out for the cheer-leading squad. But she would make herself do it. She would drag herself right up to the eighth floor of this hospital, past the bevy of Heather’s Mends who detested her, the desperate parents who were
too broken up to care about her, the steadfast, adoring boyfriend who’d maybe take a nanosecond from his grieving to curse her name. It was the right thing for Gaia to do. The fact that she dreaded it so much only made it seem more necessary.
Gaia emerged from the elevator and hesitated in front of the nurses’ station.
“You’re a friend of Heather Gannis?” the orange-haired nurse asked without even looking up from her computer.
“I—”
“Waiting room on your left,” the nurse said, still not looking up.
Gaia loitered another moment, feeling wrong about going to the waiting room under false pretenses. But what was she going to do, pour out her heart to the overburdened nurse? Like she’d care that Gaia dumped coffee on Heather or that Heather bitched her out at a party?
“Okay,” Gaia said, as meekly as she’d ever said anything. “Thanks.”
Walk. Walk. Walk, she ordered herself.
Okay, there they were, spilling out into the hallway. The Friends. When they saw her, would they make a scene right there in the waiting room? Throw stones? Burn her at the stake?
The first murderous glance came from Tina herself. Many others followed as Gaia attempted to slip
past the too full room. The murmur of hushed conversation stopped.
Tina gaped at her but was apparently so appalled, she couldn’t speak. Instead the good-looking boy who’d been with Tina last night, the old suede-jacketed star of Gaia’s cafe fantasy, stepped
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