“Go on now, beat the traffic. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
She hummed as she leaned over me and checked my respirator tube. “Well, for once the X-ray tech did not screw things up too badly.” She straightened the IV tube from one arm, then put both of my arms under their straps. “This is the last night we’re rotating you; Doctor says you’re ready for range-of-motion work starting tomorrow. That’s exciting, huh?” She pulled my sheet up across my chest and folded it down carefully like she did every night. “I’ll try to see that you get the really pretty physical therapist, okay?” She gave me a quick wink. She turned the light down on her way out, leaving the room lit with the warm glow of the setting winter sun.
Why would they start physical therapy now, before the surgery? That didn’t make any sense, unless my mom had decided she really didn’t want me to have the surgery. I wished I could have heard everything they were talking about in the hallway with the doctor, so that I could be part of the discussion. It was my body, and my life, after all.
But maybe there was a way to find out what they hadtalked out after they left my room, even the stuff they didn’t want me to hear. There was one person I was sure had heard every word and probably couldn’t wait to tell me: Olivia.
Chapter 8
I’m riding to Allie’s house; I know this route, this sidewalk and street by heart. It’s two miles. The section of sidewalk where the giant oak trees have buckled the pavement is my favorite. Speed plus cracked pavement equals air: a simple equation. My backpack is heavy: history book, assigned reading, notebooks. Every time I get air, my backpack goes up—weightless—then slams back down onto my shoulders, pulling on my neck. It hurts a little, but I’d rather get jumps than worry about my backpack, so I keep going—faster, higher, harder.
We’ve got work to do, and I know Allie will make sure we do it, but I want to wrap my arms around her and just lie there on her bed with her for a minute or two.
Then I’m there, I’m on Allie’s bed, the light-green quilt,the pillow that smells like her hair. But she’s not next to me, I’m alone.
“Allie?” Maybe she’s in the bathroom or something. I try to roll over and check the clock by her bed but I can’t. I’m strapped in.
No, this isn’t real
, I tell myself.
This is a bad dream. I’m okay
. The room is dark. The door opens and Nurse Norris comes in. Her face looks happy, but then suddenly changes. “What are you doing in here?” she says, looking at the other side of the bed. I turn my eyes and see the guy, the bad guy, the one who attacked that girl. He’s standing next to the bed. He smiles and I can see his teeth, snarled and stained. Suddenly, he lunges over my body and grabs Norris by the throat. She turns and tries to get away from him, pulling him with her. The weight of his body is across my legs, I can feel him crawling over me to get to her. He scrambles over me, and then he’s on top of her on the floor, punching her, and she’s screaming.
“Look at you, ready to go this morning! I like your attitude,” chirped a woman with really short blond hair, standing next to my bed. “And let’s take the left leg again, in and up, in and up.” She bent my left leg at the knee, then extended it up straight. I could see the road rash still on my shins from the accident. I guess I hadn’t looked at my legs since I woke up. They looked terrible, dark brown scabs to the knee, like hamburger had been spread over mylegs. This must be physical therapy. She put my leg back down, then picked up my left arm. “Now, let’s get to work on your upper body.”
She was pretty in an older-lady sort of way: not as old as Mom but not young enough to be hot. If this was the pretty therapist that Norris promised me, I wondered what the other ones looked like.
She pulled my arm up and around in circles and it sort of felt awesome. I couldn’t
She hummed as she leaned over me and checked my respirator tube. “Well, for once the X-ray tech did not screw things up too badly.” She straightened the IV tube from one arm, then put both of my arms under their straps. “This is the last night we’re rotating you; Doctor says you’re ready for range-of-motion work starting tomorrow. That’s exciting, huh?” She pulled my sheet up across my chest and folded it down carefully like she did every night. “I’ll try to see that you get the really pretty physical therapist, okay?” She gave me a quick wink. She turned the light down on her way out, leaving the room lit with the warm glow of the setting winter sun.
Why would they start physical therapy now, before the surgery? That didn’t make any sense, unless my mom had decided she really didn’t want me to have the surgery. I wished I could have heard everything they were talking about in the hallway with the doctor, so that I could be part of the discussion. It was my body, and my life, after all.
But maybe there was a way to find out what they hadtalked out after they left my room, even the stuff they didn’t want me to hear. There was one person I was sure had heard every word and probably couldn’t wait to tell me: Olivia.
Chapter 8
I’m riding to Allie’s house; I know this route, this sidewalk and street by heart. It’s two miles. The section of sidewalk where the giant oak trees have buckled the pavement is my favorite. Speed plus cracked pavement equals air: a simple equation. My backpack is heavy: history book, assigned reading, notebooks. Every time I get air, my backpack goes up—weightless—then slams back down onto my shoulders, pulling on my neck. It hurts a little, but I’d rather get jumps than worry about my backpack, so I keep going—faster, higher, harder.
We’ve got work to do, and I know Allie will make sure we do it, but I want to wrap my arms around her and just lie there on her bed with her for a minute or two.
Then I’m there, I’m on Allie’s bed, the light-green quilt,the pillow that smells like her hair. But she’s not next to me, I’m alone.
“Allie?” Maybe she’s in the bathroom or something. I try to roll over and check the clock by her bed but I can’t. I’m strapped in.
No, this isn’t real
, I tell myself.
This is a bad dream. I’m okay
. The room is dark. The door opens and Nurse Norris comes in. Her face looks happy, but then suddenly changes. “What are you doing in here?” she says, looking at the other side of the bed. I turn my eyes and see the guy, the bad guy, the one who attacked that girl. He’s standing next to the bed. He smiles and I can see his teeth, snarled and stained. Suddenly, he lunges over my body and grabs Norris by the throat. She turns and tries to get away from him, pulling him with her. The weight of his body is across my legs, I can feel him crawling over me to get to her. He scrambles over me, and then he’s on top of her on the floor, punching her, and she’s screaming.
“Look at you, ready to go this morning! I like your attitude,” chirped a woman with really short blond hair, standing next to my bed. “And let’s take the left leg again, in and up, in and up.” She bent my left leg at the knee, then extended it up straight. I could see the road rash still on my shins from the accident. I guess I hadn’t looked at my legs since I woke up. They looked terrible, dark brown scabs to the knee, like hamburger had been spread over mylegs. This must be physical therapy. She put my leg back down, then picked up my left arm. “Now, let’s get to work on your upper body.”
She was pretty in an older-lady sort of way: not as old as Mom but not young enough to be hot. If this was the pretty therapist that Norris promised me, I wondered what the other ones looked like.
She pulled my arm up and around in circles and it sort of felt awesome. I couldn’t
Similar Books
