problem sure wasn’t going away. I shuddered. We’d seen kids, usually a loner with issues, tormented, chased, cornered, kicked to the ground, and beaten. Those poor kids would stagger home only to go through the same thing another day. It usually took some kind of dire action to end it, like involving the police or them moving away. Or worse. So what could four of us do?
Brenna, who seemed to be tearing up, reached over and hugged Ashla. “Sorry, Ashla.”
Tara looked from me to Ashla. “Me too. Mom’s right. We should have stood by you. We’ve all been friends so long.” She took Ashla’s hand. I’ll be there, Ashla, no matter what. Promise.”
Tara’s mom rubbed her hands together, as though trying to thaw them. “Great. Now, everyone get in the van before we all freeze.”
The next morning at school, Tara and Brenna joined us at our lockers and we made small talk, although it was strained. We sat together for lunch, like always, and I noticed that it was as Tara had said. We were all being painted with the same brush. The looks we got were brutal and so was the body language. The taunts were scary. We tried to present a strong, united front, as Kim had suggested, but when we left the school that afternoon, we were followed by a Tarantula called Mako—a guy known for pitching a wicked hard ball. I never knew how he got there, but all of sudden he was ahead of us. “Hey, Cameron!” he yelled.
An object flew at Ashla so hard and fast I barely saw it. It struck her smack on the forehead where she’d been injured in the ski accident. The sound of that impact was sickening. She reeled and sank to the ground. For a moment, we were too stunned to move.
Delta, who had been walking ahead of Mako, turned around and came running. He saw Ashla go down and yelled, “Hey, Mako, you freaking moron! What are you doing?”
Mako hollered back, “Traitor!” and then walked off.
Delta knelt down beside Ashla. She lay so still. Her eyes were closed and I wondered if she was breathing. Delta squeezed her hand. “Ashla! Can you hear me?”
I knelt on her other side and watched as he pulled back one of her eyelids. She had turned dead white.
“Call 911,” he said to me. “Looks like a concussion.”
I whipped out my cell. It was a number I’d never called before. Ashla looked deathly and I hoped they would hurry. The 911 operator kept me on the phone, asking questions about Ashla’s condition. Delta seemed to know what he was doing, so I passed the cell to him. He gave fast, terse responses, while taking her pulse. I was impressed. You’d think he was the paramedic. So, Tara, Brenna, and I held back and let him handle it. Inside of twenty minutes, the paramedics had arrive and assessed her condition. It was as Delta said—concussive. They put her in a neck brace and slipped a backboard under her before putting her on the stretcher.
Meanwhile, I called Ashla’s mom. She said she’d have her mother stay with the daycare kids so she could leave right away. “You need a ride to the ER, Celeste?” she sounded out of breath.
I said, “It would be best if you go right to the hospital. I’ll get there on my own.” Half an hour later, Delta and I were anxiously waiting outside the ER. I seemed to be spending a lot of time there lately. After Ashla had been loaded into the ambulance, I had suggested that Tara and Brenna go home. We would call them with an update on Ashla.
I was in the emergency waiting room, pacing the floor, waiting to hear how Ashla was doing. Delta was standing, legs astride, hands on hips, staring out the window. He hadn’t moved since we arrived. I had always avoided him, as I did any of the Tarantulas, but I could see there was more to this guy than any of us knew. Watching him, I realized I wasn’t the only one concerned about Ashla. He hadn’t said a word since we arrived, but every time someone came out of Emergency, he jumped. Something was going on with that.
An hour later, Laine
Brenna, who seemed to be tearing up, reached over and hugged Ashla. “Sorry, Ashla.”
Tara looked from me to Ashla. “Me too. Mom’s right. We should have stood by you. We’ve all been friends so long.” She took Ashla’s hand. I’ll be there, Ashla, no matter what. Promise.”
Tara’s mom rubbed her hands together, as though trying to thaw them. “Great. Now, everyone get in the van before we all freeze.”
The next morning at school, Tara and Brenna joined us at our lockers and we made small talk, although it was strained. We sat together for lunch, like always, and I noticed that it was as Tara had said. We were all being painted with the same brush. The looks we got were brutal and so was the body language. The taunts were scary. We tried to present a strong, united front, as Kim had suggested, but when we left the school that afternoon, we were followed by a Tarantula called Mako—a guy known for pitching a wicked hard ball. I never knew how he got there, but all of sudden he was ahead of us. “Hey, Cameron!” he yelled.
An object flew at Ashla so hard and fast I barely saw it. It struck her smack on the forehead where she’d been injured in the ski accident. The sound of that impact was sickening. She reeled and sank to the ground. For a moment, we were too stunned to move.
Delta, who had been walking ahead of Mako, turned around and came running. He saw Ashla go down and yelled, “Hey, Mako, you freaking moron! What are you doing?”
Mako hollered back, “Traitor!” and then walked off.
Delta knelt down beside Ashla. She lay so still. Her eyes were closed and I wondered if she was breathing. Delta squeezed her hand. “Ashla! Can you hear me?”
I knelt on her other side and watched as he pulled back one of her eyelids. She had turned dead white.
“Call 911,” he said to me. “Looks like a concussion.”
I whipped out my cell. It was a number I’d never called before. Ashla looked deathly and I hoped they would hurry. The 911 operator kept me on the phone, asking questions about Ashla’s condition. Delta seemed to know what he was doing, so I passed the cell to him. He gave fast, terse responses, while taking her pulse. I was impressed. You’d think he was the paramedic. So, Tara, Brenna, and I held back and let him handle it. Inside of twenty minutes, the paramedics had arrive and assessed her condition. It was as Delta said—concussive. They put her in a neck brace and slipped a backboard under her before putting her on the stretcher.
Meanwhile, I called Ashla’s mom. She said she’d have her mother stay with the daycare kids so she could leave right away. “You need a ride to the ER, Celeste?” she sounded out of breath.
I said, “It would be best if you go right to the hospital. I’ll get there on my own.” Half an hour later, Delta and I were anxiously waiting outside the ER. I seemed to be spending a lot of time there lately. After Ashla had been loaded into the ambulance, I had suggested that Tara and Brenna go home. We would call them with an update on Ashla.
I was in the emergency waiting room, pacing the floor, waiting to hear how Ashla was doing. Delta was standing, legs astride, hands on hips, staring out the window. He hadn’t moved since we arrived. I had always avoided him, as I did any of the Tarantulas, but I could see there was more to this guy than any of us knew. Watching him, I realized I wasn’t the only one concerned about Ashla. He hadn’t said a word since we arrived, but every time someone came out of Emergency, he jumped. Something was going on with that.
An hour later, Laine
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