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  “I’m sorry.” Mom covers her mouth, and Dad tries to massage her shoulders, but she shrugs him off.

  I try my hardest. “I guess I can only think of — ”

  “Show us your brain isn’t damaged, sweetie,” says Mom. “You have the Mills scholarship waiting for you.” She smiles at the frowning therapist.

  Really? She’s going to push Mills in the middle of this stupid test? “Two?” I come up with. “I’m sorry. My head hurts is all. I can’t concentrate right now.”

  “That’s okay, Sarah.” The therapist scribbles notes.

  “You’re just — ​tired,” Mom stresses.

  I close my eyes.

  “No worries,” says Dad. “Just tired.”

  I hear the therapist get her stuff together and leave. So what? I failed the dumb test. I remembered a whole stinking poem earlier. The therapist didn’t ask me to recite poetry. No, it’s “T” words. It’s not like I really couldn’t think of, um, words. Or, the name of my … school. Man, what is it?

  Anyway, my mom just said the “T” stuff. And my head hurts, and I’m tired, and I didn’t feel like trying. I can do it.

  Maybe if Cydni was here I could have concentrated. Yeah. “T” words. I open my eyes and look around the room. Nothing sparks my mind, but surely I could think of a thousand or so if I really wanted. Panic bubbles in my blood.

  Dad squeezes my foot, and Mom takes my hand. I pull away from her. She’s, like, constantly hanging on to me. I want to rip out all these wires and scream every “T” word in the dictionary. If I could only think of them.

  Dad picks up his book and finds his place. Mom tucks the blanket around me, then plumps my pillow, offers me water. I don’t take it.

  Next, she gently begins to comb out the tippy ends of my hair. “Now that looks pretty, Sarah.”

  I roll my head away from her. “Mom, stop.”

  She sits on the edge of the bed. “Sarah, please. I think I can work on some of these tangles. If we don’t get them out, they’ll only get worse. Look.” She holds up the hank she was working on. “See how beautiful your hair still is?”

  I take the comb from her. “Yeah, right,” I scoff. “I don’t want my hair combed, Mom. Would you please just give me some space?”

  She actually chuckles.

  “Mom!” I try to push myself upward, but can’t with my weak arms.

  “Let me.” She reaches to help pull me up.

  “Stop!” I say.

  “Sarah, it takes humility to admit that you need help.”

  I huff. “Whatever, Mom. I can tell you I don’t have enough humility to stand you sleeping in my room when I go home. I can’t believe you said that to your friends!”

  Dad turns a page and looks over at the two of us.

  Mom’s voice wobbles. “It would just be for a while. To be sure you were okay through the night. I need to listen that you are breathing regularly. I can get you anything you might need.”

  I cross my arms. “No. I don’t need you to sleep in my room. I’m serious, Mom, and, and I’ll choose my own college if I get to go. I’m sick of you bringing up Mills.”

  “But there’s no book art degree at — ” Her eyes brim. I refuse to answer, and soon she admits the truth of it all. “Before the surgery, you needed me, Sarah.”

  “I was drugged.”

  Dad moves between Mom and me. “Some respect, baby girl?”

  I look from him to her and lower my voice. “Mom, stop. Please. I’m okay, and while you are at it, you might as well face the truth. Look at me. There’s no way I’m beautiful.” Now my eyes well up.

  “You’ll always be — ”

  “Mom!”

  She rips a tissue from the box and swipes her tears. She’s going to talk no matter what I say. “The fact is you will always be my beauty, Sarah. No matter what.” She twists the Kleenex and starts tearing bits off and balling them up. “And it’s just that … I have to say it felt good to feel needed again, beyond a meal, or a ride, or clean socks. I had you for a day, Sarah. You needed me like you haven’t for years.” She chucks the torn tissue wad and pieces into the trash and walks over to the window, chewing her lip, arms crossed over her chest.

  Dad follows and presses ChapStick into her hand.

  What can I even say to that? Yay that I needed you? I’m so glad you had a purpose again? My cracked-open head was totally worth it so you could feel good about yourself. Is she serious?

  The surgeon comes in and interrupts our silence with his cheery hello. Mom sits down on the stool right by my bed. I ignore her and concentrate on the doctor, washing his hands, then studying my clipboard.

  “Your last CAT scan looks very good, Sarah.” He hangs up my chart then checks my head. Poking, dabbing, prodding. “So, there shouldn’t be that much pain now,” he says, stepping over to the sink and washing again.

  “What?” Dad starts. “With that enormous incision across my daughter’s head. How can it not — ”

  Without looking up, the doctor goes on. “There are no nerves in the skull or brain. Sarah will only be feeling the skin heal.”

  “That’s good,” Mom says.

  “How can you be serious? Look at my daughter! How can she not have much pain?”

  “Mark, please,” Mom says.

  The doctor goes on despite Dad. “Tylenol should be sufficient once her IV is removed.”

  “And would Tylenol be sufficient for your daughter after brain surgery?”

  What is up with Dad, going all Chuck Norris? The minute it’s about me, taking care of me, he gets all heated up. Will he always doubt the surgeon, man to man?

  The doctor turns away and discusses something with the nurse standing in the doorway.

  “Uh, Dad,” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re twisting the head off my bear.”

  He drops it on the bed, and I giggle for the first time since the accident.

  “Everything looks good, Sarah.” The surgeon spins around again and smiles at me in particular. “We may be getting you home as soon as tomorrow, with a few follow-up, in-home nurse visits.”

  “Oh, that’s great!” I say, while Mom and Dad stand there with their mouths hanging open.

  Cydni’s mother pops in as the surgeon is leaving. She snaps my parents back to the moment, and they leave the zombie look behind.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Chantelle says at the sight of me.

  “Swollen from the fluids,” I answer.

  She shakes her head as Mom relays what the staff has said today. “Lastly,” she announces with a sweep of her arm, “they are considering sending her home tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Chantelle asks, not hiding the shock in her voice.

  Mom nods. “Of course, that’s wonderful, as long as it’s safe.”

  “As long as it’s safe,” Dad echoes.

  “Well, it would be awesome to be in my own bed and not have the nurses constantly checking me. Super great to be in my room. Alone,” I add, staring at Mom.

  She ignores me. “Earlier, I caught the neurologist again, and he clarified Sarah’s mind maybe isn’t clear because of the anesthetic, or exhaustion, or the surgery itself. She might recall, say, something that wasn’t reality. Isn’t that what I told you he said, Mark, when we were switching rooms?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Mom, I’m right here. You’re talking like I’m not here, and you might have told me that, you know.”

  “You have enough to focus on, Sarah,” she patronizes me.

  Mom raises her eyebrows at Chantelle, who asks behind her Kleenex, “The flute?”

  My mother nods.

  Dad jumps in. “Sarah’s eager to do things to help her brain reconnect.”

  “Oh yeah, Dad. Woohoo,” I deadpan.

  Mom adds, “We’ll need to play cards, games, and do crossword puzzles to exercise her mind and check out her capabilities.”

  “That sounds like fun, Sarah,” Chantelle says eagerly.


  “Maybe when I’m feeling better. I love solitaire. Right, Mom?”

  CHAPTER 38

  Haddings

  3:10 pm

  In the late afternoon, I park facing Alki Beach along West Seattle and turn off my car. The sun is dropping already. The pale waves lap the shore without much energy, although the salty tang in the air is already slipping into my car. It’s quickly replacing the heater’s lingering warmth.

  The lawyer explains, “The parents are undecided regarding a civil suit. One only wants expenses covered; the other insists on leaving the door open as future unknown costs accrue. They have a year to file.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Let me know if you have any more questions.”

  “I will.” Tapping off my phone, I wonder how much that little conversation cost me. I can’t think about a civil suit right now.

  I shiver and unbuckle my seat belt, getting the pressure off my indigestion. A ferry slices through the Sound as the sun shimmers at the top of the Olympic Mountain range. In the midst of the stillness, it feels like I could shatter from the tension, like the shards of sea glass scattered among the pebbles. I have a year of this waiting and wondering?

  Stifle the pity. Sarah’s got it much, much worse. All because of me.

  It’s incredible that, despite all my effort, she still thinks I was attracted to her. Could she feel it? Despite everything I was telling her and myself, regardless of what I did, safeguarded, and believed, she intuited the opposite.

  I lay my head on the steering wheel and watch the gulls circle outside, crying aimlessly. Back in January, Sarah came into class glowing. Before I could ask why, Clayton announced, “Yo, it’s Sarah’s eighteenth b-day today.” The class hooted, and George added, “Legal adult,” when he strolled past and bumped knuckles with her.

  She glided into her seat and beamed at me. Legal, but still off limits, I countered silently.

  A gull chases another across the sand. That was probably the day the crack opened in my heart¸ and I’ve been plastering it subconsciously since … which was still the right thing to do.

  The ferry lets out a low tone, and it sounds as lonely as me.

  CHAPTER 39

  Sarah

  4:40 pm

  Chantelle couldn’t stay long, but she said Cydni should be here soon. She gave me a soft hug before leaving. I’ve always loved her hugs.

  Now, I smugly smile as Mom talks to Grandmother on the hospital phone. “No, it wouldn’t be good for you to come right now, Mother.”

  She yanks the cord to untangle it. I can actually hear my grandmother’s answer, she’s talking so loudly. “But are you sure, Janet? I can be there very soon to help you.”

  “No. Everything is complicated right now, Mother. Your flying in wouldn’t help.”

  “Now, Jan-Jan, that can’t be true. Don’t you worry about your father. He’ll manage fine being alone for a few weeks. I’ll get a ticket for this weekend. I can take a shuttle from the airport, and I’ll be there to cook and clean at the very least. When Sarah comes home, you’ll need an extra pair of hands.”

  “Mother, no — ”

  “None of that now. You need me, Jan-Jan. A mother always knows. I’ll call you with my flight details. Give my love to everyone, especially Sarah. Bye-bye now.”

  Click.

  Mom clatters the phone into the cradle. “Why doesn’t that woman ever listen to me?” she mutters.

  “Yeah, like that’s so weird,” I say, snuggling down.

  She raises one eyebrow at me, then goes on. “So your dad went home to catch a nap while you were resting, and you missed Pastor Hodgins and Pastor Kelly. They stopped by to check on you.”

  I yawn. “That’s nice. You could have woken me, you know.”

  “They said not to, which was sweet, but I have to say, the hints about forgiveness were tedious.”

  I squint thinking about it, but then I can’t see out at all between my puffed lids. “Seriously, Mom? They were talking about forgiveness when I’m lying here like this?”

  She nods and sits on the edge of the chair. “Of course, they were definitely compassionate and sympathetic the whole time. Still, they were encouraging me to set a good example for you.”

  “Man, forgiveness seems so far way,” I confess.

  “Farther than I can imagine.” Mom mutes the TV when a short, freckled guy in a brown suit knocks on the door.

  “Can I help you?” Mom stands.

  “I wanted to speak with you about Sarah’s accident,” he says. After fake small talk, the man spins how we need to sue the driver, and he can get us a lot of money if we ask him to be our personal injury lawyer.

  Mom cuts him off three times. “Thank you,” she says, “but my husband has already talked to our family lawyer. Right now we’re going to concentrate on Sarah getting better.”

  This guy doesn’t get it or give up. Mom finally sits and waits out the long spiel. She takes his embossed card and then drops it in the garbage as soon as he leaves. “I may have a hard time forgiving Haddings, but I won’t run the system to fleece him.”

  “But will you sue him, Mom?”

  My mother turns to me, grips the mustard-yellow water carafe, and fills my cup. The ice rattles in the now-empty container as she clunks it down. “I’ll say this once, and then we are going to leave it. We don’t know what expenses we could be looking at still. Mr. Haddings’ insurance may top out, and we may not be able to afford the costs. We will have college expenses” — ​she pauses a second, her voice wobbly — ​“wherever you choose to go.”

  Will we? I can’t even think of “T” words.

  Mom continues. “Even if you take the scholarship to Mills — ”

  “Really? Again?”

  She raises her hands. “I’m just saying as an example, even if you take the Mills scholarship, there will be additional costs. Then Luke is right behind you a year later, hopefully at Washington State University. We can’t close the door on filing a suit. That’s all I’m going to say.” She takes the pitcher and walks out.

  On the TV, someone instantly wins ten thousand dollars on a game show. That’s incredibly unfair.

  I sulk. She just had to bring up Mills one more time. Mills, Mills, Mills.

  Staring at the white ceiling, I try to figure it all out, separate from my mom and what she’s pushing. I don’t want to say no, just because she’s saying yes. What is it I want, or what’s the best choice for me?

  The creative writing, book art degree at Mills did look amazing, super specialized. I could learn to craft books for my own poetry. The thought of creating something physically to hold my writing is super appealing. And book crafting is a dying art. Would I miss studying that at the U? Would I ever have the chance to learn it if I didn’t go to Mills? Not with the same intensity, for sure. I’d get the creative writing part at UW. Is that enough?

  If I ignore Mom and her pushing, I can recall Mills was my first choice before Haddings. There was no question back then. Even my bashed brain remembers that. If I get to go anywhere, where would I choose right this minute?

  5:10 pm

  The instant Luke and Cydni walk in, the words blow right out of my brother. “Whoa, Sarah! You’re like a monster toad. A balloon head.” He turns kind of green himself.

  Tears plop out of my eyes. This is his greeting the first time I see him since waking from surgery? At least from what I can remember.

  Mom’s stares laser beams at him. “Oh,” he mutters. “I, um, didn’t imagine you could look worse than yesterday is all.”

  “Oh, don’t listen to him, Sarah.” Cydni slips close to my bed. “He’s kidding. It’s just the swelling, right, Mrs. McCormick?”

  “That’s right,” Mom agrees.

  Luke quickly hides behind a giant card so he doesn’t have to look at me. “Hanae gave this to me to give to you. It’s from speech and debate, I guess.”

  “Cool. Bring it here so I can read it.” I challenge his gu
tlessness.

  “Here. I want to see, too.” Cydni saves him. She retrieves the card and brings it over to me. She reads me every scrawled note and signature while Luke sits down on the chair by the window.

  “Hey, you have so many fewer machines today,” Cydni notices. “That must mean you are doing better!”

  “Yeah.” I try to mirror her cheer but fail. Instead, I lick my swollen lips like a disgusting toad. The pain peaks all the sudden, and Cydni dabs my tears with a tissue.

  Mom steps to Luke and stiffly pats his back. Suddenly, her touch softens along with her face. She halfway smiles. “It’s hard to see Sarah like this, isn’t it?” she asks him.

  He shrugs.

  She goes on. “I know it hurts you. A memory just came to mind, actually.”

  Luke looks like he wants to bolt. How is Mom going to embarrass Mr. I’m-So-Cool?

  “Remember your reaction to your sister when you were little and she fell off her bike?”

  “No.”

  “You were what? Maybe seven?” Mom tucks him close to her side. “You couldn’t look at her. You couldn’t face her until her lip had nearly healed.”

  “Mom! It’s no big deal.” He glances at Cydni.

  “You’ve always been my sensitive one,” she continues. “We’ll give you some time to deal with this. Everyone’s different, Luke. We all know how much you love Sarah. Here.” She digs through her purse. “Why don’t you go buy an ice cream sundae from the cafeteria for Sarah? Her appetite’s coming back, and I don’t think it will spoil her dinner. You’d like that, right, Sarah?”

  “I guess.”

  “Cydni, would you mind showing Luke the way?” Mom asks, but my friend hesitates. “Just because we were there yesterday.”

  Luke jumps up. “Yeah, you can show me, Cydni. Come on.”

  “Is that okay?” She stalls. “I don’t have to go, Sarah. It’s no problem to stay, if you’d rather I do that.”

  “No. It’s fine. Go. We can talk when you get back. You can fill me in on everything at … Kentlake.” That’s the name of my school! I smile at my secret victory. And if she goes, it will give me time to figure out what I’m going to share with her about today. Maybe not everything, with Luke around.