Flicker (5 page)

"Yeah." I don't, but I really should lie
down before going over to Amelia's house. Something tells me it's
going to be a long night.

He tries to hold my hand for the rest of the
drive, but the stick makes it difficult. After the third attempt we
both start laughing, and whatever weirdness may have hovered
between us is left at the Strand.

My nerves slam into me all over again when
we pull into my driveway. He seems to be working up the nerve to
say something, but I cut him off with a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Call me tomorrow and we'll figure out the other game."

A hint of color floods his cheeks. "I
will."

I bounce from the car happier than I've been
in a long time. Even before Robbie. Maybe things are finally
picking up for me.

Chapter 7

I open the front door and freeze. From the
kitchen I hear a spastic knocking, like something's hitting one of
the chairs and making it scrape across the tile floor.

"Dad!"

My mother's voice murmurs over the
banging.

I sprint to the kitchen.

My dad's sprawled on the floor, seizing, his
legs slamming into a chair with each uncontrolled convulsion. Mom's
cross-legged on the floor with his head loosely cradled in her lap,
the phone wedged against her shoulder.

My body reacts without thinking. I kick the
chair across the room and lightly grip his ankles. Restraining him
is pointless; I just want to keep him from hurting himself.

"Biz, this one's bad. Be care—"

A violent spasm grips his leg and his
slippered foot catches me in the chin.

I fall backwards, stunned.

Everything goes dark and the only sound is a
low hum coming from deep inside my head. Then the headache rages
forward and the room clears.

"Are you okay?" The phone clatters to the
floor, forgotten.

That's a
first
. I reach for Dad's feet but this time I throw my
legs over his. "Yeah, I'm great."

"An ambulance is on the way. Maybe they
should check you out while we're there."

"An ambulance?" I choose to ignore the
second thing she said. I'm not letting them near my head any sooner
than I have to. The spasms seem to have slowed, but I'm so used to
this sometimes it's hard to tell.

"He hit his head when he fell. I was in the
other room."

For the first time I notice my mom's
disheveled appearance. Her normally smooth hair is sticking all
over the place and fresh tears streak her face, smudging her
makeup. Brightly painted shards of pottery speckle the floor around
her.

The pill bowl.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I called the hospital first. You were
next."

Of course. How selfish can I be?

We remain like that until uniformed men
flood the kitchen. They wrap one of those collar things around
Dad's neck, strap him to a gurney, then wheel him from the
house.

I grab my phone. "Can you drive?" I
definitely don't want to relive this.

We follow the ambulance through the
neighborhood past rows and rows of trees, all standing straight and
proud and ready to fuck with my head.

"Shit."

"Biz."

"Sorry. I left my sunglasses in my car."
Yes, I could look the other way, but it’s the inconvenience that
irritates me.

She fumbles in the center console and hands
me a pair of oversized shades.

"Thanks."

"Are you sure you won't let them examine
you?"

I can feel her watching me. "I'm getting
tired of always having to convince everyone that I'm okay. Yes, I
get headaches but there are worse things in the world." I nod at
the ambulance in front of us.

Her lips set in a firm line. I pushed too
far.

"I'm sorry mom. I know you're worried. But
please stop worrying about me."

We don't speak again until we arrive at the
hospital, where we're faced with a kaleidoscope of lights bouncing
off the bright white walls of the emergency entrance. Pinpricks
shoot from the tips of my fingers straight up my arms. Same thing
in my feet. The heaviness slams into me. This is much faster than
with the sunlight. My only comfort is knowing that artificial light
can't make me flicker. I only feel everything else.

Mom knows light affects me, but she only
knows about the headaches. But this is so severe I'm not sure if I
can pretend that nothing is happening.

I stumble as we pass by the ambulance that
ferried my dad and a strong hand grips my arm, keeping me on my
feet. A pair of eyes I've never seen appear.

"Are you all right?"

For the love of god, would
people please stop asking me that?
I nod dumbly. I
don't think I'm very convincing because he guides me to the back of
the open ambulance and sits me on the bumper.

Now Mom is hovering behind his shoulder, her
lower lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes dart between me and
the entrance to the hospital.

"Mom, go with Dad. I'll be there in a
minute. I just got dizzy." I blink hard and when I open my eyes,
she's gone. A small part of me wishes she hadn't listened, but then
I'd just be bitching that she worries too much. I focus on the man
still kneeling in front of me. "Thanks for catching me. I've had a
migraine for a couple days and I guess it just caught up with
me."

He's still holding my arms. "I'm choosing to
believe you, even though I get the feeling it's more than just a
migraine."

I take a second look at him. He’s older than
me but much younger than my parents, and way more filled out than
the guys at school. At first glance I figured him for the guy who
drove the ambulance, but—

He smiles. "I've got a thing for
neurology."

An urge to flee zips through me. "That
sounds cool." Swallowing hard, I force a smile. There's no way this
guy knows anything. I push to my feet and he takes a step back.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

I glance at his name tag. Martinez. "You
didn't. You're just doing your job." I nod at the entrance. "I
gotta go see my dad." I rush through the automatic door and glance
over my shoulder.

He's still watching me.

*****

The nurse at the front desk smiles when she
sees me. "They're working on him now. Your mom's already in the
waiting room."

"Thanks." I move on auto-pilot; past the
desk, past the swinging doors where doctors put people back
together, and through the glass doors to the waiting room. Although
it's Friday, it's still early and there aren't many people here. A
couple huddle together on the only sofa, and a woman with two
little kids is camped in the chairs near the TV. Mom is standing
near the floor-length window, her back to the room, no doubt trying
to pretend we aren't in the hospital.

Again.

I approach her cautiously. Now that Dad's
with the doctors, whatever check she had on her emotions is about
to come unhinged. "Did they say anything?"

She faces me. Her mascara has finished its
transition from her lashes to her cheeks and her lower lip is
bleeding.

I wrap an arm around her. "Mom, he'll be
okay." I want to believe that. I have to. They say teenagers
believe they're invincible, but I think it goes beyond that.
Parents are invincible too. Because what happens if something
happens to them?

"They think he fractured his skull when he
fell. They won't know for sure until they get the X-rays back,
which should be," she checks her watch, "in another ten minutes or
so. I just hope to god he doesn't need surgery." She turns away
from the window and drops into the nearest chair with her head in
her hands.

The couple on the couch watch us for a
moment before pressing their foreheads together again.

I don't know what to say. I want to reassure
her, but A, I don't know that he'll be okay, and B, I figure the
less I talk the more she'll stay focused on Dad and not remember
that she wants me to get my head looked at. I'm tempted to feel my
chin to see if it's bruising, but I may as well set off a flare. If
there was a bruise she would have said something by now.

My beeping cell phone yanks me out of my
reverie and I silence it. I go to my texts. Amelia wants to know
when I'll be over.

"Sorry. Dad's in hospital. Maybe tomorrow?"
I text back.

I fall into the chair next to Mom and wait
for her reply.

Mom straightens in her seat. "You don't need
to wait here. I'll be all right if you want to go outside and make
a call."

"Are you sure? What if they come back with
news?"

"Then I'll come get you. Just stay where I
can see you from the doors."

I hesitate. Yeah, I want to talk to Amelia,
but despite what I said I really am worried about Dad. Mom doesn't
hold her shit together very well when she's by herself. "Do you
promise to come get me?"

She nods, but her eyes are already glazed
over.

I kiss her cheek, then head for the exit,
stopping at the main desk. "I'm going outside, but will you make
sure someone gets me if anything happens with my dad? My mom…" I
hate to talk bad about her, but they know.

The nurse smiles for the second time since
I've been there. "Of course."

Chapter 8

Technically the low wall alongside the area
where the ambulances drop off patients isn’t a waiting area, but no
one's ever yelled at me. Amelia still hasn't texted back, so I call
her.

"Hey, is your dad okay? It's been awhile
since he's had to go to the hospital, right?"

"Yeah, not since last winter." That day
played out much the same way, except there was two feet of snow and
our car spun into a ditch. That's probably why Mom called the
ambulance this time.

"So… how is this one different?" Amelia
doesn't like to pry—that's one of the things I love about her—but
it's a fair question. Usually Dad's seizures are pretty mild and we
just ride them out at home.

"They think he cracked his skull when he
fell." I touch my chin. "Then I caught a foot in the face. That was
fantastic."

She gasps. "Is your mom freaking out?"

I snort. "What do you think?" Guilt pricks
me and I look down at the ground. "I can't blame her though. Every
time is scary, even the mild ones."

There's a pause and I realize Amelia doesn't
know what to say.

I clear my throat. "So do you want to hear
my plan?"

A breathy chuckle erupts through the phone.
"I thought you'd never ask! Tell me, how do you plan to get Trace
to notice me?"

"Well," I say, drawing it out, "my latest
photo assignment is to put together a fake sports page for the
school paper. I figure I'll take pictures of the soccer game, then
ask Trace if I can interview him." Never mind the fact that I've
never interviewed anyone in my life. This is what you do for
friends. "You, naturally, will be my assistant."

There's a thump and I can hear her clap her
hands. "I love it!" she shouts, her voice miles away. There's
rustling, then her voice is clearer. "Sorry, the phone kinda shot
out from under my chin. Do you think that'll work?"

"I hadn't considered that it wouldn't. What
guy–especially a jock–doesn't like to talk about himself?"

"Biz, that's awesome! So when are we
going?"

"I think there's a game on Tuesday. But you
need to help me come up with questions. You know I'm no good at
that kind of stuff." She giggles and I roll my eyes. "And nothing
about his abs or his legs!"

"Oh, come on!"

I laugh again and an EMT glances at me. I
mouth ‘sorry' and shift so I'm facing away from him. I want to tell
her about Cameron, but part of me hesitates. If I say it out loud
it'll be real and then it's only a matter of time before it all
goes to shit.

"Speaking of super hot boys…" Amelia
prompts.

"It's like you fricking read my mind
sometimes, you know?"

"That's why I'm your best friend. Spill it.
Did he want to talk about his sister?"

I'm sure we talked about his sister, but the
first thing I remember is how badly I wanted to kiss him. I touch
my lips.

"Helloooo?"

I shake my head. "He brought her up, but we
didn't really talk much."

"Oh?" The innuendo in her voice nearly
topples me over.

"What?"

"I've seen the way he looks at you. I
figured now that you dumped Robbie things might happen with you
two."

Heat shoots through me. Maybe it wasn't in
my head. "Where the hell have I been during all this?"

"I don't know. When you told me you
were going for a drive with him I assumed you liked him." She
pauses. "
Do
you like
him?"

Cameron's muscular arms flash through my
mind, followed by his smile, his legs, and those lips.

"Ha, I knew it!"

"But what if I screw everything up? I don't
want to lose him as a friend."

"Biz, as your younger and less experienced
friend, I have to tell you that sometimes that's a risk you have to
take."

Younger my ass. I'm only two weeks older.
"Did you read that at inspirational-poems-dot-com?"

She snorts. "Close.
Turning-your-friend-into-a-lover-dot-net."

I burst out laughing and my face burns.
Kissing was as far as I'd allowed my imagination to go, but a rush
of images floods my head and now I can't think straight.

Which works out well because the smiley
nurse is heading my way.

"Amelia, I gotta go."

"Okay. Call me later."

I disconnect and meet the nurse in the
center of the ambulance bay. "Is he okay?"

She guides me back to where I'd been
standing. "They've finished examining him and would like to keep
him overnight for observation. There's a small fracture in the back
of his skull but it doesn't look like there's any serious
damage."