“No one you need to worry about right now,” my mom says. “Your dad’s taking care of it.” She turns and looks out the window again, and twists the blinds closed. Tight.
Then she turns to me, smooths her face into a smile, and comes back to my bedside. “I’m sorry,” she says. “That’s not how I meant to come in. Let’s start over again.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Runs a soft hand over my forehead. “How are you feeling?”
I look at my mom. Really look at her, for the first time since I’ve woken up. She’s wearing a tank top and khaki shorts—her standard teacher-on-summer-break uniform. She looks tired. There are bags under her eyes, and more lines at the corners of them than I’ve ever seen. I feel a twinge of guilt knowing that she probably hasn’t slept a full night since the accident, and it’s enough to make me set aside my questions for now. She needs a simple answer.
“Better,” I say. It’s partly true.
She brightens. “The nurses said you made it through the night without any painkillers. That’s a good sign. Your ribs must not be hurting you too much then? That’s such great progress, sweetheart.” She glances at the sunflowers on the bedside table, then at the shelf opposite.
“Oh, wow, look at that!” she says. “Those are just beautiful!” She walks over and examines the giant bouquet from KBSY, pushing the flowers gently to each side. I know what she’s looking for. “No card? That’s strange. Who would send such a beautiful arrangement without including at least a quick note? Or maybe it got lost? I wonder if we could find out from the florist?”
She’s nervous. This is what my mom does when she’s nervous. She just keeps talking. And maybe now she thinks if she just keeps talking about the flowers, I won’t ask any more questions about the news van outside, or the video, or anything else.
I think of the note card I’d tucked safely under my pillow last night and I almost mention it. But something holds me back. “I don’t know,” I say instead.
She glances at the flowers again, and then looks back at me. “Anyway. I have a surprise for you, if you’re feeling up to it.”
I’m not sure I’m feeling up to any surprises right now, but she has this little hopeful smile, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings. “What is it?”
“It’s not a what, it’s a who. Dr. Tate said now that you’re stable, it would be all right. That it’d probably even be good for you to have some visitors.”
“Is Sam here?” The thought of seeing my brother actually lifts my spirits a little. He’d crack some jokes. Make me feel normal. Tell me what happened if I could get him alone.
My mom tilts her head and smiles like she’s surprised. “No, he’ll be home tomorrow. He’s on his way back from the trailhead in the Eastern Sierras, remember?” Her phone chimes, and she looks down at the screen, then taps a quick answer.
“Oh, perfect,” she says. “That’s Paige. She just got here, if you want to see her.” She stops. Frowns. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you first. Is that okay?”
“Of course!” I sit up and look toward the hallway, mostly ignoring the pain that comes with the movement. “Yes! Yes, I want to see her. Is Jules here too?”
My mom frowns. “No, you two haven’t—” She bites her lip. “It’s just Paige for now. Poor thing’s been so worried about you, but I didn’t want her to see you like—until you woke up. I’ll go get her right now.”
She disappears out the doorway, and I sit there, trying to figure out what she started to say about Jules, and why she wouldn’t be here with Paige. A few moments later, I hear footsteps, and a voice I recognize, coming down the hallway. Paige’s voice. “I hope it’s okay, Mrs. Jordan. I just knew she’d want to see him too.”
“I don’t have to go in right now, if it’s too much,” a male voice says.
The footsteps stop outside the doorway.
“It’s all right, honey,” my mom answers. “You just surprised me, that’s all. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you both.” She lowers her voice now, enough that I can hear her whisper-talking but can’t make out the words. I’m straining to hear, and trying to figure out who Paige brought with her, and all of a sudden I feel anxious. This keeps happening. Everyone keeps doing and saying things faster than I can follow, and I feel like I’m two steps behind, and it almost makes me want to cry. But I can’t, because right then, they all come in.
For a moment, it’s silent.
And then I can hear the intake of their breath—of Paige and the boy who hangs back in the doorway.
“It’s okay,” I hear my mom say. “She’s okay. Come on in.”
I can’t do anything but stare, because the girl who steps forward looks like Paige but doesn’t at the same time.
She’s taller and curvier, with shiny blond hair that’s straight instead of curly, bright white teeth with no braces, and brows arched over eyes that wear more makeup than Paige is allowed to.
As soon as we make eye contact, tears spill down her cheeks, and she’s immediately at my bedside, both of her hands wrapped around mine. “Oh my God, Liv,” she says, “you’re really okay.”
I don’t know what to say. I just look at her, trying to get my bearings with this version of Paige. Her eyes run over me like she’s doing the same, and I flash on the image of my reflection in the mirror last night. If it scares her as much as it did me, she doesn’t let it show.
She squeezes my hands. “You’re a miracle,” she says, looking right into my eyes. Her mascara is running, and she sniffs, then dabs at her nose. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t cry. But I’ve been a total mess—so worried. I don’t know what I would’ve done if . . . if . . .” She shakes her head and dabs at her nose again. Sits up straighter. “Anyway. I just love you so much, and I’m so thankful you’re okay, and . . .”
She trails off, and it’s quiet, and I know I should say something. She needs me to say something.
“I love you too,” I say softly.
This sets off a whole new wave of tears in Paige, and she leans in and gives me a gentle hug. Over her shoulder, I can see my mom fighting off her own tears, and the boy standing in the doorway like he’s afraid to come in, and really I don’t blame him with all this going on.
Our eyes meet and he looks down at the floor.
Paige releases me from the hug and I look at her. “Where’s Jules?”
She gives me a strange look. “I don’t know. We don’t . . . She’s not . . .”
She looks to my mom for help, but a nurse I don’t recognize steps into the room. “Mrs. Jordan?”
“Yes?”
“Dr. Tate would like a word with you now, if that’s okay.”
“Oh. I . . .” My mom looks at me. “Are you okay if I step out for a minute, sweetheart?”
Paige smiles at me. “We’ll keep her company.”
“Okay?” my mom asks again.
I nod.