“Hey,” she said, walking to meet me, her hands twisting. “How’d it go?”
I unlocked the truck bed. “Fine. Nelson said you’re good. He’ll waive the late fee.”
“Really?” Her brow wrinkled. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
I shrugged. “I must’ve caught him in a good mood.” Her eyes narrowed, and I busied myself hefting the mattress onto my shoulders. “I could go back and ask him to reconsider if you want.”
She waved her hands. “Ha, no. Thanks. Thank you, Ronan. It won’t happen again.”
“Yep.”
She said something else, but I pretended not to hear it. Her gratitude made me sick. Where the fuck were the people who were supposed to take care of her? They left her so alone…soadrift…that she neededmyhelp? Was that the point of life? A lucky few would make it unscarred while everyone else was on their fucking own?
Bullshit.
The new coffee table was just as old and plain as the first one—chipped wood and stains on the surface. But my living room looked more like a living room. The bed was a real bed. The futon went straight to the dumpster, and I lay down that night on an actual mattress.
The nightmares came anyway.
NineteenShiloh
Did you hear? Violet’s in the hospital.
I froze, and the phone nearly fell out of my hand. It was a little after 10:00 p.m. Bibi and I had been watching a movie when my phone chimed a text from Annika Shaw, a girl on the soccer team who I’d been closer to in middle school.
My fingers trembled as I jammed out a reply.
What happened???
Head injury at practice. She’s at UC Med. Blacked out.
“Holy shit.”
Bibi’s head turned to me. “Shiloh?”
“It’s Violet. She’s in the hospital.”
“Oh dear. Is she all right?”
“Don’t know.”
My fingers flew.How bad is it?
I waited for a reply while tears burned the corners of my eyes at the sudden rush of fear I felt for my best friend. I blinked them away angrily. It shouldn’t have to take losing someone to realize how much you loved them.
Oh God, Miller…
There was still no reply from Annika, and I remembered why we weren’t close friends anymore.
Flake.
Panicked, I called the hospital. Dispatch put me through to the nurses’ station on Violet’s floor—only to be told they couldn’t tell me anything.
“I’m going up there,” I said to Bibi as I ran to the kitchen for my car keys and sweater that hung on the hook on the door. I threw on my cardigan, then typed a text to Miller.
I just heard. Violet’s at UCSC Medical. Head injury. They won’t tell me more.
His reply was almost instant.On my way.