Missing by Francine Pascal Page A

can know about it.”
    â€œUh—uh ...well,” he stammered, not sure what to make of this. Couldn’t they just eat first before they got into any specifics?
    â€œEd, I’m totally serious,” Heather muttered, glancing around the restaurant. “You can’t tell anyone. Not your doctor, not your parents, not even your physical therapist. Not until that settlement is final.”
    Ed blinked. Wow. Something about Heather’s tone had just . . . thrown him a little. It was so mercenary. Which in a weird way—besides being disturbing—was kind of sexy, too. He patted her shoulder. Heather’s brow relaxed, and her face brightened.
    â€œDon’t worry,” he said. “You’re gonna be fine.”
    Â 
    Rubble
    SAM’S DORM ROOM LOOKED LIKE IT had been hit by a tornado—and pretty much any other natural disaster one could think of. Literally. He was used to a mess . . . but this was sheer destruction. They’d rummaged through every single piece of clothing, every CD case, every book, every notebook, every goddamn tube of toothpaste. And they hadn’t cleaned up a thing.
    They’d taken his insulin kit. They’d even taken his computer.
    He went numb. He could only stand there and survey the wreckage. His anger fell away. His despair fell away. Maybe this was how shock actually felt. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even asking himself the same old questions he’d been asking for weeks. Why me? What have I done to deserve this? When will I be free from all this? He was just a body. Just another object amidst the rubble.
    I’m dead,
he thought coldly.
This is purgatory. And I am dead.
    â€œI’m sorry, Sam,” Josh said behind him. “I really am.”
    Ted Koehler from down the hall ducked his head into Sam’s room. Without knocking. He and Sam had maybe exchanged five words in their entire lives. And from the prying look on Ted’s face, he was just another sniveling, suspicious gossip hound sniffing around Sam’slife. Sam couldn’t take another minute of it. Without thinking, he picked up the biggest book within his immediate reach and hurled it at the wall.
    â€œGet the hell out!” Sam screamed as the book smashed against the plaster—leaving a huge black mark.
    Ted Koehler bolted.
    And then Sam was numb again.
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    Subconscious Detour
    WHAT A BIZARRE EVENING,
ED thought as he rolled along Charles Street, the icy wind beating hard against his face.
    Heather had wanted to see him all the way home, but Ed had decided that tonight wasn’t such a good night for it. He needed to think. Besides, they’d taken a nice long walk after dinner—strolling through their favorite parts of the Village, even revisiting some of their secret make-out spots from back in the day. There was an excellent secluded park bench down by the Horatio Street basketball courts where they used to go all the time. No one ever walked by there after ten. So they’d hung out there for a while and kissed, then theymoved on. They’d found nooks and crannies every few blocks where they’d share some kisses before moving on again. But after a while Ed had simply tired. He’d called it a night and sent Heather home in a cab.
    It wasn’t just the confusion, the apprehension. It was everything. He was totally wrung out from the emotional Tilt-A-Whirl of the dinner, and he was also physically beat from the therapy. He couldn’t believe that this was his first night out since he’d been discharged from the hospital. He’d packed about as much into it as he had in the last two years put together. Well, except for the nights he’d been with Gaia—those wild nights around Thanksgiving time with Mary . . .
    He shook his head. Thinking of Gaia reminded him of school. And tomorrow would be his first day back. Shit. He’d need all of his energy. The thought of Brian working him over in the evenings