《Mirrored Cuts》


 Preface

    It was three in the morning and the house was holding itself still, as always, afraid that if it emitted the slightest creak, it would wake my father¡¯s wrath. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the dust that floated by my eyelids, my own personal constellation. I blinked and the specks fluttered away. The house shivered and I pulled the blankets up to my ears. Stay still, I whispered but my ears strained to hear what the sound had been, to what had woken me up. Stay. But I had to move. I slipped out of my sheets and tiptoed to the door. Looking out, I saw only blackness, a void that I knew I shouldn¡¯t cross. But I moved towards my door anyway to look onto the stairs¡¯ landing.


    CRASH.


    It was a sharp sound, like my mother¡¯s china cabinet had been given the shove it needed to finally meet the floor. I ducked, falling to my knees in as controlled a manner as I could manage. There was silence except for my brother¡¯s soft sobs and I knew that I should not have crossed through the doorway. My mother flew down the stairs.


    ¡°I¡¯m calling an ambulance.¡± Her fingers clicked across the keypad, her last act of defiance before resigning us to our fate.


    Time stood still as a palpable scream shuddered through the air. There was a fumbling, hard footsteps beat against the floor. The phone shot through the air, but it was too late. The authorities had been notified.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°I¡¯m done,¡± I could hear my mother¡¯s strength, clear only in the grogginess of the dawn¡¯s haze.


    ¡°This is my house.¡±


    Sammy, I thought. Hang in there.


    We could hear the siren wailing in the distance. I moved to the window, feeling my way along my dresser and tripping over discarded clothes. Faster, I thought. I could swear I heard the rate of the siren increase.


    ¡°We¡¯ll leave.¡± My mother compromised even when she was taking a stand.


    The ambulance¡¯s bright lights emerged from the trees, cutting through the darkness in swaths. A man and a woman pulled up and leapt out of the ambulance, shouldering bags as they walked. Their stride was unbreakable. They ushered themselves into the house and emerged immediately with my brother on a board that they carried between them. They placed my brother in the back of the ambulance with care. My father tried to follow. The woman held her hand up and gestured to the car that was parked in the driveway. My father stepped back, affronted not because he was not allowed to ride with his son, but because someone had refused him his request. I watched them drive away, a protective shield of light for my brother, until the ambulance was a bright dot on the horizon.

 Chapter 1

    I was dropped off at college in the comical way I imagined most families joked about. ¡°The car¡¯s going to keep moving,¡± my father said.  ¡°Jump out and get your things out of the car.¡± It wasn¡¯t moving very fast but I felt like I was in the airport trying to take my suitcase off of one of those industrial conveyer belts. It¡¯s even harder to remove your luggage when you¡¯re dodging cars, people and the luggage coming out of the cars (that are stock still, for the record). I was determined to do it however, and by the time my father had taken his joke and his car too far, I had removed all of my luggage.


    My cello was the hardest to remove, because I was not willing to drop it on the ground. When I arrived at my room, the first thing I did was check it for scratches. It was unmarred, but out of tune.  I leaned it up against my too-tall bed. I almost undid all of my careful carrying when a voice from the hallway said, ¡°I think you forgot this.¡±


    I whirled. In front of me was a man I could only describe as eccentric. Perhaps colorful was the right word? A single diamond shone from his right ear lobe. He set my last bag on the floor.


    ¡°I¡¯m Flint,¡± he said.


    ¡°A-Andi,¡± I said. Apparently, I had lost control of the English language.


    ¡°I like your tiny bass,¡± he said.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    A flash of annoyance reminded me how to speak. ¡°It¡¯s a cello.¡±


    ¡°Sorry to offend,¡± he said with a smile, knowing that he hadn¡¯t actually.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have your own room to be unpacking?¡± I said.


    ¡°Naw,¡± he said. ¡°I came in a week early with the foreign students. I¡¯m from Texas. The University must have thought I needed a lot of assimilating to this cold northern culture.¡± At this he shivered. ¡°I have to say, I am enjoying the local delicacies. Your fried chicken, however, is lacking.¡±


    I laughed. Absurd. That was the word for him.


    The door opened behind him. A girl with a fierce edge to her cheekbones stepped in, her blond hair swaying.


    ¡°A party already?¡±


    This was Ruby. We had been assigned to each other a few months prior. We had had one conversation since, which comprised of a trading of surface demographic information. We had met again in the parking lot with her parents but she hadn¡¯t spoken.


    ¡°See ya later, Andi,¡± Flint said as he slipped out of the room, sensitive as he was to changes in temperature.


    ¡°I like your suitcase,¡± I said, a preprogrammed response to silence you could drive a bus through.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said. ¡°I was just glad that there were elevators. Weighs a ton.¡±


    We unpacked to the rustling of the plastic curtain in the wind.

 Chapter 2

    The third day of college was the day we got to pick our activities in college. All of the freshman gathered under a glorious, high-ceilinged tent and walked along the aisles of tables set up for each club, shopping for our activities and our future friends. There was something for everyone: a roller blading club, a Japanese food making club, a club for every imaginable religion, and so, so much more. Each had decorated a table highlighting their strengths to convince us to flock to their tables. Some had even brought bribes in the form of candy, baked goods or stickers.


    There was only one group that I knew I had to join: the Emergency Medical Service. My father harbored a resentment against all medical providers so I hadn¡¯t had the opportunity to join. This college EMS was a volunteer squad that responded to medical emergencies on campus. They were a small, dedicated group of friends that acted almost as a family or a fraternity and I was definitely looking for a family.


    As I approached, I watched the three EMS members behind the table interact.


    ¡°Did you hear about that seizure call yesterday? The kid was postictal, couldn¡¯t even answer our questions and the first thing he does when he comes to is check his phone for texts.¡±


    ¡°It always happens. Who was on your crew?¡±


    ¡°A couple of probies, a responder and me. The probies were so late¡­I have no idea what they were doing before the call.¡±


    I smiled at them. Their conversation was filled with jargon that I wanted to learn. I wanted to talk about my adventures and what medical emergency I had dealt with that day. They were a family and I wanted to be adopted.


    I shyly took a brochure and began to flip through it. The girl at the table stuck her hand out.


    ¡°Hi! Are you interested in EMS?¡±


    My head went up and down. I was mute. ¡°Please like me!¡± I screamed on the inside.


    ¡°Great! Take a brochure and make sure to come to our informational barbeque. The date is in there. You can see our office, eat some great food and meet some of the other members.¡±


    ¡°Thank you!¡± I finally found my voice. ¡°I will be there.¡±


    Ruby walked up behind me.  ¡°Andi! What is this?¡±


    ¡°Mind if I take a brochure?¡± she said to the people at the table.


    They handed her one. She took it, smiling effortlessly, the way she knew how, the Florida way.


    We walked away, towards other tables.


    ¡°Always wanted to be a firefighter. I can do this!¡± She hugged it to her heart, daring me, so early on in our relationship to say no.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    I smiled, hoping she wouldn¡¯t see my fear that we would apply and she would get accepted instead of me. I would have to watch her enjoy the family accepting her and listen to all of her exciting stories. I had discovered that Ruby was like a pot of water just before it boiled. She had a short fuse and her parents seemed to tiptoe around her because of it. Their fiery little gem, they called her in the parking lot before they left her with me. ¡°Really, she is a good girl.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure who they were trying to convince, but I nodded and smiled at them, hoping they would change their minds and take her with them back to Florida. Pittsburgh was going to be too cold for her. It was just a feeling I had, so it might be unfair. I really did want to be friends. I just wasn¡¯t sure that was a good idea.


    As we walked to the next table, my pocket buzzed. I pulled my phone out to check the screen. My mom was calling. ¡°You go,¡± I said to Ruby. ¡°My mom will have a heart attack if I don¡¯t answer.¡±


    ¡°Hi, Mom,¡± I said.


    ¡°Andi, are you okay? I haven¡¯t heard from you in two days! Are you making friends? I hope you were extra nice to your RA. She¡¯ll be giving you your toilet paper for the next year so you don¡¯t want to make her mad. But really, Andi, tell me what¡¯s going on. I¡¯m worried.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Mom. I¡¯m okay. We¡¯ve just been busy, that¡¯s all. We have to do a lot of things at the beginning of the year. I¡¯ve only really been to two classes so far. And of course I was nice to my RA. We bonded over our love of cellos.¡±


    There was a small pause and then she came back on the line. ¡°Well, I¡¯m happy you¡¯re behaving yourself. If you¡¯re busy, you don¡¯t need to talk.¡±


    My mother: the Absolute Monarch of the Lands of Passive and Aggressive.


    ¡°Mom, that¡¯s not it. I want to talk to you. I¡¯ve just been busy, is all.¡±


    ¡°Love you, dear. Talk to you when you¡¯re not busy.¡±


    I rolled my eyes, happy she couldn¡¯t see me.


    ¡°Bye, Mom.¡±


    I wondered if the rest of college was going to be like this. Her wanting me to call even though my talking was never going to be enough. She had my brother, after all, although he had mastered the art of hiding much sooner than I had, saving him from my mother¡¯s ruthless attention and my father¡¯s precise throwing arm.


    I put my phone back in my pocket and tried to meander through the rest of the tables. I picked up flyers and goodies, promising myself that I would actually exercise if I joined the crew team. I snatched up the travel flyers for alternative spring breaks and community service trips to countries in Africa and Asia, places I had not seen. I avoided the cello quartet, signing people up for auditions, even though I had played for twelve years. College was supposed to be about finding new passions, not continuing to belabor the old. I could play cello whenever I wanted. By the time I was done, I had a hefty stack of papers about the groups on campus and I had started to receive an enormous volume of email.


    I shuttled it all back to my room and put it on my desk. I pulled the EMS flyer out of the stack and stuck it to my new corkboard with a little blue pushpin. I checked for the date of the informational barbeque, two days from then, and put the date in my calendar with several alerts so I wouldn¡¯t forget. When Ruby came back from the activities fair, I was pouring over the application and thinking about how I would respond.


    ¡°Going to that barbeque? I¡¯m going to go. This EMS thing is a really fucking good idea.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s go together. It won¡¯t be so awkward then if we show up and no one is there yet.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she said as she began to sort through her own pile of pamphlets.


    The way she rustled through them, throwing them this way and that, was contrary to my own way of organizing them. I looked through them once, separating them into two piles, Nos and Maybes. Then, reading through the Maybes to find the most promising ones, and saving the rest of the Maybes in a drawer for if the others didn¡¯t work out as planned. I always believed that my OCD came from the years of being told just how unacceptable it was that I liked to keep my clothes on the floor. It was a pavlovian response to constant disapproval.

 Chapter 3

    I saw Flint again at a freshman event filled with trust falls and other forced bonding activities. He was wearing cowboy boots and a bandana around his neck and hooting over something one of our other floormates had said. One of the other guys from our floor gave him a look, a look asking for the volume of his laughter to be cranked down. Flint didn¡¯t seem to notice or mind. I found a way to join his group, the one rotating through the activities slower than every other group.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re from Texas?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. But this here liberal stuck out like a porcupine at a nudist colony in his home town.¡± He had adopted a mildly offensive regional accent to make his statement even more ridiculous. ¡°What about you? Where are you from?¡±


    ¡°Connecticut. And I¡¯m an expert at blending in.¡±


    ¡°I could pick you out of a crowd, easy.¡±


    A blush crept up my neck and I tried not to faint.  ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m not trying to hide.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he said.


    I realized that the group had left us behind.  I felt daring in Flint¡¯s presence. ¡°Let¡¯s skip out. They¡¯ve already seen us make an appearance.¡±


    Flint took my hand, causing the little dwarves in my stomach to do a jig. We jogged away, turning back to see if anyone was looking. We were completely conspicuous and I loved it.


    * * *


    The next day, I woke up and ran through my schedule. I was taking the required freshman courses: English Lit, World History, Calculus I. It was unfortunate, because I had already completed the college equivalent in my AP¡¯s, but the college didn¡¯t count those towards requirements. I planned on attending all of my classes. I wanted my professors to like me. In high school, all of my friends and I had gathered in our favorite teacher¡¯s room during our free periods. Every year, we had a new favorite teacher who mentored us and joked with us like equals. I wanted the same thing to happen here and going to class was a good place to start.


    ¡°Fuck you.¡±


    The sound came from Ruby¡¯s bed. I glanced up the lofted bed and tried to figure out what she was doing. She looked like she was still sleeping, but she had definitely just yelled.


    ¡°Ruby?¡± I said.


    No response.  I climbed onto my desk to see her better. She was tangled in her sheets, her eyes were shut and she was thrashing about. I was stuck with a violent sleep talker. She had been blessed with a village elder¡¯s way of telling you how much they didn¡¯t like you, even in her sleep. I made a mental note to loft my bed as well, just in case she was also a sleepwalker. Hopefully, sleepwalkers can¡¯t climb ladders and I would be safe from her sleepy rage up high.


    I picked up my backpack, an item that was half my weight already from a computer and a textbook, and slipped out the door, closing it until I heard a soft click. I hoped that Ruby hadn¡¯t heard it and woken up. I padded down the ghostly hallways painted in a palette of colors that could only have been selected while looking at vomit. No one was awake to witness my exit, 10 am being too early for most of my floor to have decided to go to class. As I walked through the campus, I made sure that my hair was in place, that I was wearing my makeup and that I looked generally presentable: my mother would be furious if she found out I was checking myself after I had left the room.


    I arrived at Calculus I and slipped into the seat in the front left corner: my favorite vantage point. It allowed me to see the professor and pay attention, but not so teacher¡¯s pet-y as to be front and center. The other students filled in the back rows, gradually forcing the newcomers to fill in rows closer and closer to the front. I was hoping that someone could sit next to me. Then, I could make a friend. It would be weird if I turned around just to try to make friends. Besides, after orientation week, everyone had already found their preliminary friend groups and they were sticking to them, afraid that if they let go of them, they would be left friendless and alone. Which is a fair fear, just perhaps not one that allowed for making more friends. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    A boy wearing aviator sunglasses sat down beside me. I took my chance.


    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Andi. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Fothorn,¡± he said. ¡°Jacob Fothorn.¡±


    ¡°You introduce yourself like James Bond,¡± I said, smiling. ¡°What are you studying, Jacob?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Fothorn. I¡¯m studying Economics with a Business Administration minor.¡± He looked away.


    I was really not making progress with this guy. I kept trying though.


    ¡°I¡¯m studying Psychology. I¡¯m pre-med so I¡¯m taking a ton of science classes. Where do you live?¡±


    Jacob turned, probably surprised I was still talking. ¡°I live in Wesling.¡±


    ¡°Cool,¡± I said. ¡°I live in Reeves. It¡¯s horribly ugly and small, but at least it has air conditioning.¡±


    Our conversation hit a wall. Jacob, or Fothorn, or whatever I was supposed to call him did not want to continue chatting. To be fair, I wasn¡¯t sure what else I was supposed to ask him to spark discussion. Maybe ¡°why are you wearing sunglasses inside?¡± or ¡°Is there a reason are so particular about being called by your last name?¡±


    ¡°Fothorn, my man.¡± A boy wearing an A$$, A$$, A$$ bro tank sat down beside Jacob.


    They completed a secret handshake and bumped shoulders. It was my chance to turn away and let them have their moment.


    The bro tank whispered to Ian, ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± and pointed to me.


    Jacob whispered back, ¡°Some freshman.¡±


    They both laughed, probably proud that they had already settled into their college family and no longer needed to try as hard as the freshman did. I cringed inside, sorry that I had put myself out there to someone who didn¡¯t care. Why would they look down on the freshman, I thought, when the freshman are the ones who actually need to be accepted. I composed my face to something neutral as the professor stepped to the front of the classroom. Obviously no one¡¯s empathy had developed from going through the same process.


    The calculus professor was new, a young PhD student from Venezuela. His classroom was filled with rules: no whispering unless you can whisper without using the letter ¡°s¡±, every student had to participate in solving practice problems, no bathroom breaks, and no food in the classroom. We would eventually learn his unspoken rules, like never interrupt him when he¡¯s ranting about Venezuela, stay away from drug jokes (something bro tank had just learned), and complementing the t-shirt he wore every day was the fastest way to gaining his favor.


    He began a rant, weaving together his time in college in Venezuela and trigonometry. I was glad I had already learned this, because picking out the parts of the rant that were actually relevant to the class was difficult. My mind wandered to the EMS informational barbeque the next day. I needed to plan an outfit and study some of the jargon, anything that I had found online pertaining to their service. I wanted to be an insider, as quickly as possible. I would bring chocolate chip cookies. I hope they liked cookies. Who doesn¡¯t like cookies? But then again,  there are people out there who don¡¯t like chocolate, or who only eat white chocolate, so I should be prepared for anything.


    I pulled out my phone and hid it behind my pencil case. I searched through my contacts for Flint¡¯s number.


    I texted him ¡°Cookie baking tonight? I¡¯ll get milk from C-Shop.¡±


    Before I had put my phone away, it buzzed. ¡°You bet, motherfucker.¡±


    I sighed and rolled my eyes. Adding ¡°motherfucker¡± to the end of boring sentences was a new phase of his, he said. He thought it made everything funnier. He added a rising and falling inflection, a you-betcha hand motion, and a quick smile.


    I couldn¡¯t join in, although sometimes, when I was with him, I felt like I could. I felt invincible and safe from my mother¡¯s perpetual disapproval of anything less than perfect when I was around him. But now, away from him, I felt the years of being taught not to swear, under any circumstances, rise up and clamp down on my vocal chords, almost daring me to try to express such vulgar language.


    ¡°Andi!¡± My professor¡¯s voice jumped out at me.


    I looked up at the board. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the next step?¡±


    I peered at the board, trying to make out the messy squiggles that tangled across the board.


    ¡°Nothing? We did a similar problem a few minutes ago.¡± He pulled at some of the fibers in his beard.


    I felt a hot flush creep down my neck. ¡°You divide by cotangent.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Put your phone away.¡± He turned to teach a class that was almost as checked out as I was.


    I dropped my phone into a backpack that was too heavy for me.

 Chapter 4

    I pulled the cookie dough out of my mini-refrigerator, tube by tube, and stacked them in a pyramid on the baking sheets I fished from behind the dresser. Ruby noticed the cookies and asked for one when I was done. Or two. I told her she¡¯d have the chance at the barbeque the next day. I could tell she wasn¡¯t very happy but she made a probably-for-the-best-shouldn¡¯t-be-eating-so-much-junk comment and went back to her homework.


    I walk-skipped down the stairs to the first floor, where the kitchen was located. No one was in the kitchen at the moment and I dumped the used pots and plates that were lying crusty on the counter in the sink. My RA told me that the kitchen was usually a place of nuclear disaster and I should expect nothing more. It was a pretty big change from the kitchen my mother kept, where the counter was always wiped clean and ready to be featured in Home and Garden. My brother was always getting in trouble for leaving things behind.


    Flint walked through the revolving door and plopped himself down on a chair at the inconveniently placed table in the center of the tiniest kitchen on earth. He preheated the oven using a free toe.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s a sanitation issue,¡± I said.


    ¡°My feet are clean, motherfucker.¡±


    I laughed. It felt good after a day of worry.


    We began the process of making cookies. I cut the dough and placed it on the greased pan, and Flint took a piece off and ate it, creating a pile of dough for me to eat as well. After a while, he gave up on waiting for me to take a bite of my own volition and fed it to me. His fingers brushed my tongue and I wondered what I should do next. I had been told that raw cookie dough could give me salmonella. But Flint was feeding me cookie dough. I tried to keep it together.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to forgo all of the times when you can eat delicious raw cookie dough, just in case, that one time, you might get sick?¡± Flint said.


    ¡°Yes. Exactly,¡± I said.


    It was his turn to laugh at me. ¡°I don¡¯t get you.¡±


    I swatted at his head. ¡°You think you¡¯re so easy to understand?¡± I wondered what his playfulness hid. I could never think straight when he was around. His witty banter kept me a few lines behind, racing to catch up. I wanted his ease, his confidence, his appetite.


    We put the cookies in the oven to bake. I turned the oven light on and watched them begin to sizzle and brown, transforming into a substance that far surpassed the cookie dough that it was made up of.


    ¡°We¡¯re the cookies,¡± Flint said, reading my mind.


    I hip bumped him. ¡°Maybe someday we¡¯ll be that good.¡±


    After gobbling up some of the cookies, I left one to the side for Ruby and packaged the rest up for transportation the next day. Flint carried half of them while I carried the rest, up the stairs, careful, careful, don¡¯t fall.


    I put Ruby¡¯s on her desk. She smiled, a genuine thank you, and began to break pieces off and lick her fingers. Flint bade me goodnight and returned to his room, probably to finish the readings that took him so long to get through thanks to his dyslexia.


    ¡°So, hanging out with Flint?¡± Ruby said.


    ¡°I think he¡¯s nice. He offered to help me make cookies.¡±


    Ruby shrugged. ¡°Seems like a total pothead.¡±


    He has way too much life and energy in him to be a pothead, I thought. But I kept my mouth shut. No point in causing trouble. Ruby probably didn¡¯t even really care about the issue. She was just bored. Bored as a bat, or something along those lines. That was always one of my flaws. I could never quite remember the phrases people seemed to spout with ease. They never quite fit for me. All the phrases seemed to blend together into something that felt right to me, but obviously wasn¡¯t something everyone else recognized; ¡°all¡¯s well that ends¡± and ¡°like taking money from a baby¡± were my personal favorites.

 Chapter 5

    The next afternoon, I met Ruby outside our dorm and we walked over to the grassy area outside of the upperclassmen dorms. A small group stood around a table that was covered in burgers, buns, hot dogs, and every condiment and soda known to man. I placed my cookies to the side, on a precarious looking edge with not enough space. A boy with eyes of a mystical green, blue and hazel, flipped open the lid and took one. He took a bite, savoring the taste.


    ¡°Did you make these?¡±


    ¡°Kind of,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re slice and bake.¡±


    ¡°Good enough. I think we should accept her,¡± he said to the red-bearded, leprechaun looking man to his right.


    ¡°Dude. You can¡¯t just say that¡­¡± the leprechaun said.


    The boy with mystical eyes looked at me. ¡°You know I don¡¯t have the power to accept you just on the basis of your cookies, right?¡±


    I nodded, mute.


    He looked back at the leprechaun. ¡°See? No problem.¡±


    Ruby stuck her hand out in front of him. She practically glowed like the gem she was named after. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Akul,¡± he said.


    Ruby laughed. ¡°Like ¡®you¡¯re a-cool guy¡¯?¡±


    He smiled. ¡°Never heard that one before.¡±


    Ruby took another cookie.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    The leprechaun introduced himself as Carl. Carl with a ¡°c,¡± not like that other guy. Carl was a Republican and he owned a gun.


    I introduced myself as Andi. Andi with an ¡®I¡¯. Nothing more.


    They asked if we had any questions. Ruby asked to know more about the organization. I winced. She should have done her research. What if they thought she wasn¡¯t committed enough to even look at the website? I nodded vigorously during the answer so that they understood that I had learned most of this already, had done my homework.


    They explained that they were an EMS Quick Response Service. They were the first people on any scene within the college¡¯s main campus or on any of the properties they owned within the area. They took us to the office, showing us the bunk beds, where they slept when they were on duty. It was messy but it seemed like they were at home there. Members of EMS were seated on the couches, calling at the other members to throw them freeze pops, which seemed to be a delicacy in the office. They showed us their equipment and the car that they drove to the emergencies.


    Then I asked about the application: an eight question form that seemed to be designed more to dissuade people who didn¡¯t actually care enough than to get to know them.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t say you want to join because you want to help people,¡± leprechaun Carl volunteered. ¡°That¡¯s tired bullshit.¡±


    ¡°And please don¡¯t say you¡¯re pre-med,¡± Akul said. ¡°We mostly screen out the pre-meds. They¡¯re just looking to add something to their resume for med school.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± I said. I promised myself not to reveal that I was pre-med and did, indeed, want to help people. I wondered who they accepted that didn¡¯t say they wanted to help people. Or did they tell everyone this? Was it a test?


    ¡°Hope to see you at interviews!¡± they said as we walked away from the office they had shown us.


    Ruby took my arm as we walked. ¡°This shit is exciting! I will be a firefighter.¡±


    I scrunched my eyebrows a little. ¡°Except for the tiny little problem of the fact that they don¡¯t fight fires¡­¡±


    Ruby smiled and ignored me. I began to process what I had heard. I would have to hide some things, probably rethink the answers I had planned, but their description of EMS had just made me more excited about joining. I skipped alongside Ruby, relaxing into her firm grasp.

 Chapter 6

    When we arrived at the dorm, I sat down and wrote the answers to the questions they had asked, filling out each question with small paragraphs. I eliminated anything that said that I wanted to join EMS in order to help people and instead focused on a desire for community and a need to be prepared for any problem. I told them my major was Psychology but I withheld the fact that I was taking all of the other science classes in order to be prepared for medical school. I nipped and tucked until my application was ready to submit.


    I pressed the ¡°Go¡± button, sending my application into a void where I hoped it would be received favorably. In an instant, I started regretting things. I could have changed wordings and rearranged the structure of my answers. Why had I chosen to make that joke about the freeze pops? They loved those freeze pops. Had I hidden my pre-med aspirations well enough? What if that ¡®don¡¯t tell anyone you want to help people¡¯ was a test to make sure that I really did want to help people?


    I climbed onto the radiator in order to get into my unnaturally high bed. Usually, I used a running leap but I just wasn¡¯t feeling it. I hugged my pillow to my chest, obscuring my face from the world. I closed my eyes and thought of happy things. I thought of my brother, who was starting high school this week and how happy he must be to be a revered high schooler, top of the K-12 food chain. I wondered if he was worrying already about how our parents would react to his grades. I wondered if he missed me. He was one of the only people who gave me my space, who didn¡¯t expect me to be a certain way.


    My mother wanted me to be as attractive to the outside world as possible. Some mothers try to keep their daughters from having boyfriends. Mine was not one of them. Whenever I told her I was hanging out with a friend, she would fight me about the details of when I would be home until she heard that it was a boy. Then, she was perfectly okay with me staying out for as long as I wanted. I tried to avoid boys for that reason for a long time. I never had the urge to sneak away to the bathroom with the boy I had paired up with. I was both mother and child.


    My father, on the other hand, just wanted good grades. Results, he said. For what he was paying for. Every semester, he challenged me to get straight A¡¯s. He expected it. One semester, I brought home a report care with four A¡¯s and an A minus. He screamed and yelled. An A minus is not an A, he said. I tried to explain that this was not the case but he refused to listen. ¡°The fact that you have to say minus means that it¡¯s not an A. What¡¯s the difference between this and a B plus?¡± he said. I never got an A minus again. It wasn¡¯t worth it.


    Knock, knock.


    I pulled the pillow off of my face. ¡°Come in.¡±


    Flint opened the door. ¡°Sleeping already? It¡¯s only 10 pm.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    I put the pillow back over my face.


    Flint pulled it down. ¡°Don¡¯t you know that the hour between 10 and 11 pm is sad girl hour?¡±


    I glared at him.


    ¡°Only sad girls sleep during this hour.¡±


    I sat up. I didn¡¯t want to be a sad girl.


    He kissed my cheek. ¡°Come on,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s go get that 2000 calorie Brownie Mountain Supreme they¡¯re offering to the freshmen downstairs. I need someone to take mouse sized bites while I eat the majority of it.¡±


    I followed him downstairs, filled with new warmth. As we dug into the aptly named Brownie Mountain Supreme, I studied his face.


    ¡°I applied to EMS today.¡±


    We high fived.


    ¡°You are going to look so official in your uniform,¡± he said.


    ¡°If I even get an interview.¡± I shook my head and skewered another brownie chunk, smothering it in vanilla ice cream.


    ¡°Super Andi.¡± He posed. ¡°Saving the world, one philosophy student at a time.¡±


    ¡°I petitioned to get into my Creative Writing class today,¡± he said.


    We high-fived again. His gentle hands were covered in calluses. He didn¡¯t try to high-five as hard as he could, like the guys at my high school.


    My phone buzzed, moving across the table. I checked the screen. It was an email: an email asking me to be at an interview the next day.


    ¡°What¡¯s the rush?¡± Flint said.


    ¡°I¡¯m just thankful I don¡¯t have to wait a week. I don¡¯t know if I would have nails anymore. I¡¯d be so nervous.¡±


    ¡°EMS, nail hero!¡± Flint said.


    I wrote back quickly, confirming my interview time. I would be missing part of my statistics class, but I was okay with that. Statistics didn¡¯t save lives.


    I chanted Flint into finishing the rest of his brownie and dragged him upstairs. I needed the perfect outfit for the next day. Something professional so they would take me seriously, but not an outfit that took itself too seriously, or they wouldn¡¯t think I was fun. My closet was not well equipped for this kind of demand.  I liked large, loose sweaters that allowed me to relax while looking like I put some effort into my outfit. Sweaters didn¡¯t quite scream professional. They screamed, ¡°I¡¯m at home reading a nice book and drinking a cup of tea.¡±


    I don¡¯t think that people who do EMS even know what tea is. I bet it¡¯s just hardcore black coffee for all occasions. I can¡¯t even drink black coffee. My heart starts feeling like it¡¯s going to pound out of my chest, my insides start quivering and I start sweating. It¡¯s a thoroughly unpleasant experience and I tend to try to stay away from it. I¡¯ve only ever drunk a cup of black coffee once. That was enough for me. If they asked me to, I think I would drink black coffee. They could probably resuscitate me anyway if I had a heart attack.


    I settled on a pair of black pants and a short-sleeved, but collared shirt. I set them out on the back of my desk chair.

 Chapter 7

    The next day, wearing my outfit, I walked over to the wing of classrooms that I was supposed to be interviewed in.


    The room was haphazard, at best. The desks were strewn about the floor like a child¡¯s discarded playthings. The projector was on and streaming the football game. Only one of the two people in the room was watching it.


    The other walked right over to me and shook my hand.


    ¡°Hi! My name is Anker. I¡¯m really interested in joining EMS. Thanks for having me.¡±


    He grabbed my hand and shook it. I looked over at the boy watching the football game for help. I pulled my hand out of his grasp, taking some of his palm sweat with me.


    ¡°Me too. I¡¯m here for an interview.¡±


    Anker jumped back and went into full competitive mode. ¡°Oh. What experience do you have with EMS? I was a volunteer EMT at the fire department near my house. I¡¯ve been doing this for four years.¡±


    I kept my face pleasant, knowing that he would likely get accepted.


    Anker turned his attention to the boy watching the football game. The boy was a much better bet as far as schmoozing went.


    I sat down. Behind me, the door swung open again. I turned to see who it was.


    Two men, one very tall with broad shoulders, the other, the leprechaun from the previous day, walked into the room. They were dressed in what can only be called golf attire: pastel shirts of pink and yellow and shorts of the opposite pastel color. Their shorts were covered in embroidered lobsters and men playing polo. They were wearing aviator sunglasses to shield their eyes from the light and carrying lemon-lime Gatorades. As they walked, they began to chug the Gatorade. It wasn¡¯t until many months later that I would learn that they had been severely hungover.


    Anker ran right over and introduced himself, listing off his qualifications. They ignored him and slumped into their seats, probably praying for the sun to stop streaming through the windows.


    Another pair walked into the room behind me. One was the boy with the beautiful mixed eyes that I had met at the barbeque. The other was a man with high cheekbones who looked like he knew how to model.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Andi?¡± they said in unison, looking at the clipboard they carried.


    ¡°That¡¯s me!¡± I got up and tripped over my backpack.


    I followed them out of the room, feeling Anker¡¯s laser beam stare boring a hole in the back of my neck.


    I took a seat in the next room, opposite my interviewers. They looked like a panel on a game show with their slightly elevated chairs and serious clipboards.


    ¡°Why do you want to be in EMS?¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re jumping right in. Okay. Um.¡± I flinched at the sound of my voice. ¡°I want to be in EMS because I¡¯ve never actually been able to make a difference in my community. I¡¯ve done, you know, packed lunches and knitted scarves for the homeless but I¡¯ve never actually seen the difference that made.¡±


    The model leaned towards Akul. ¡°She didn¡¯t say she wanted to help people,¡± he whispered.


    Akul winked at me. ¡°Ask her the next question.¡±


    ¡°What else would you do outside of EMS?¡±


    I paused. ¡°Outside of EMS? Well, I¡¯ve only been in college for two weeks. But I was interested in the Crew team and the Japanese Cooking Club.¡±


    ¡°Are you aware of our duty requirement?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°It¡¯s 24 hours every two weeks.¡±


    Akul smiled, dully. ¡°Over the course of our organization, we have discovered that 24 hours a week is not enough practice for a member to advance through the ranks. How much duty would you be taking if you joined EMS?¡±


    What did they want to hear? I thought. ¡°I would be willing to take a shift every week? Or maybe three shifts every two weeks? Would that work?¡±


    They contemplated their clipboard. ¡°Any questions for us?¡±


    I had just asked them a question, but I let it go.


    ¡°Alright, then. You can go into the next room where another pair of interviewers will be waiting. They might ask you similar questions but they are asking them so as many of us as possible have exposure to you. That¡¯s how we make our decision.¡±


    It reminded me of the first day of fifth grade, when we were all trying to pick who would be on our dodgeball teams. Everyone spent the first ten minutes of gym running around, feeling the other kids out and selecting their group. By the end of those ten minutes, all of the strongest and fastest kids had formed a team and when the gym teacher said we were going to play dodge ball, us slower, weaker kids were out of luck. I had trouble seeing my skin because I had so many bruises when I woke up the next day. My mom was sure I had some terrible skin disease because I refused to tell her what had happened. She kept saying that I had this terrible skin disease, but when she hugged me before she sent me off to school, she offered to let me stay home, something I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been allowed to do, not even when I had the flu.


    I ran through the same questions with the next interviewer. They released me back into the waiting room where I was dismissed by the football game watcher.

 Chapter 8

    I meandered home and prayed for solitude, a rarity in the eight by eight box the college had deemed a dorm room. Ruby was always there, doing homework or sleeping, making peanut butter covered chocolate bars when she was at her desk. If it was chocolate bar time for Ruby, it was also talking time.


    I went to the study room and leaned against the bay window. They were sterile, panels of glass but at least they allowed me to see the outside world. Ruby insisted on keeping our blinds closed and I didn¡¯t want to rock the boat. Who wants to be that roommate who fights everything the person they are living with suggests? I watched the small ant groups of students scurry around the sidewalk. They all jockeyed for a spot next to each other, even though the sidewalk could only fit two comfortably across. The third came up in the middle, forcing the other two to walk with one foot on the sidewalk and the other on the grass. I felt bad for the one in the middle. I was always the one trying to be in the middle, although I didn¡¯t usually have the guts to push the other people off the sidewalk. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    On the window, someone had written ¡°Help. Will pay for someone to do homework. See Johnny, Second Floor.¡± I followed the trail of whiteboard marker to the whiteboard beside me. Someone had been trying to solve a complex mathematics question for a physics class. There were four different colored markers and an increasingly difficult to read handwriting, complete with arrows and cross outs. I thought the point of white boards was that you could erase things instead of crossing them out.


    I picked up a marker and played with it, rolling it between my fingers. I contemplated the problem on the board. I removed a variable the ¡°Johnny¡± had forgotten to cancel and played with the numbers, shifting them back and forth and applying a theorem or two to test them. Then, something clicked. It¡¯s a euphoria I get from solving problems. I dashed down the answer, gathered my backpack and walked out of the room so no one would know that I had solved it.

 Chapter 9

    On Tuesday night, my RA organized a tea event. We gathered together in the lounge and each brought our favorite tea bags to share. My RA provided the water heaters and we all sat on the floor, kumbaya style. The tea was supposed to relax us and give us a chance to meet people. It was honestly too late in the school year, more than two weeks in for that. We all knew too much about each other after orientation week to want to try to reach out.


    We sat in a circle, muttering about how college was supposed to be fun and that we already had way too much homework.


    ¡°My professor breezed through the syllabus in five minutes flat on the first day. Then he jumped into Game Theory,¡± Yina said.


    ¡°That¡¯s nothing. I stayed up all last night to try to finish a project and then I slept through the class,¡± Yina¡¯s friend said laughing.


    A girl named Carol waved her arms about wildly. ¡°The book is that big! And we have to read it in a week.¡±


    Carol¡¯s right arm collided with one of the hot water boilers, knocking it into Yina¡¯s lap. Which wouldn¡¯t have been a problem, except the container¡¯s lid popped off, pouring boiling water all over Yina¡¯s thighs, arms and stomach. Yina screamed, the blood-curling nature of it, driving us all to cover our ears. I pulled the hot water boiler off of her. My RA lunged for her phone.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call EMS,¡± she said.


    I rubbed Yina¡¯s back as she sobbed, sitting spread like a starfish, because it was probably less painful that way. As we sat there, waiting for EMS to arrive, I watched her skin turn red like a birthmark and then frost white with blisters.


    Two people whom I had not met at any of the EMS events jogged into the room. ¡°Who called for EMS?¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Everyone pointed to Yina.


    They cleared us out of the room, or at least away from Yina so they could figure out what was going on.


    ¡°Station from EMS, can you dispatch medics for an approximately 18 year old female with second degree, partial thickness burns?¡±


    ¡°Copy that, 21:34,¡± someone said back over the radio.


    They began to wrap her arms in white gauze, covering white with white, like snow in the middle of winter. They coached her breathing and had her calm down, explaining that these burns would heal.


    They were stone cold calm. Nothing seemed to phase them, not even when someone almost spilled tea on them as well. They were a well-oiled machine, handing each other equipment without speaking. I knew I should have been paying more attention to Yina, but all I could think about was how I should have been able to do what they were doing, to jump into action when someone needed me. I wouldn¡¯t have known to wrap it in gauze. I probably would have given her an ice pack, which, when I looked it up later, is actually the worst thing you could possibly do.


    They were so beautiful in an official way. Their shiny metal rank insignia shone in the dim light of the dorm room.  Their crisp, pressed blue shirts folded in precise lines, making me wonder if there was a special class I could take to learn that.  And their pants. While cargo pants are definitely out of style, these two made their tactical pants look like Britney Spear¡¯s clothing choices were making a comeback. They had scissors and tape in their pockets, which they used to cut and attach the gauze to Yina¡¯s burns. I have never wanted scissors in my pocket before then.


    They walked her out of the building towards the ambulance. The rest of the floor cleared out of the common areas to do homework but I stayed by the window, watching them put Yina into the back of the city¡¯s ambulance, keep her calm and close the door. They spoke to the EMS people that were driving the ambulance for a few minutes, handed off some documentation and walked away.


    I felt hollow. In that moment, there had been so much adrenaline. But now, I felt like someone had scooped out my insides. I longed for something to fill the hole they had left. I wished that calling them back for my emotional needs felt legitimate.

 Chapter 10

    I had to get back to homework like the rest of my floor. Someone had once told me that college was a breeze once you made it through my high school, a rigorous private institution. They must have been on multiple drugs because I had no idea where they had gotten that. Or perhaps I had just chosen a school that didn¡¯t abide by normal college-is-easier standards. It seemed like I spent hours, every day, and more during weekends, studying or doing homework, just to keep up.


    ¡°An A minus is not an A.¡± I could hear my dad saying in my head as I contemplated taking a break, or just going to sleep.


    Ruby was already asleep. She didn¡¯t seem to have a problem pulling all-nighters the day before a test or project. She also didn¡¯t seem to be struggling. To be fair, I hope I didn¡¯t seem like I was struggling but if Ruby wanted to know, she could probably have picked up on the signs.


    I checked my email absentmindedly, out of boredom more than a desire to communicate with anyone. Buy a new shower system. Delete. Sign up for the newsletter the philharmonic was starting. Delete. URGENT: Open and Respond. I clicked it open.


    Dear Andi,


    We are writing to inform you that you have been accepted into EMS. Congratulations! It was a competitive year and your class is a qualified one. On the application you filled out, you documented that you are able to attend this weekend¡¯s New Member Training sessions. Please respond ASAP. letting us know if you are still available. We look forward to having you in our organization!


    Best,


    EMS Executive BoardDid you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    I put my face in my pillow and screamed, hoping Ruby wouldn¡¯t wake up and ruin my moment. I had made it in! They had accepted me. It didn¡¯t matter to me anymore that I had a midterm on Monday that I wouldn¡¯t be able to study for if I went to New Member Training. I was a member!


    Then I had a thought. What if it was a mistake? What if they had gotten the denial and acceptance lists mixed up and I had actually been first up on the denial list. How soon would they send the retractions? Would it be before the weekend? Maybe I should email them and ask them to check again?


    I put my ear buds in and tried to blast some music to clear away my thoughts. I always imagined my brain at this moment to look like a western movie, one with tumbleweed, and a modern day speaker vibrating so hard from the bass that it was actually moving the tumbleweed farther and farther from the porch on which it rested. I giggled.


    Ruby flipped over. She looked like she was trying to beat the railing that kept her from rolling off. She pulled herself up, sleep-glared at me, and collapsed back on her pillow. I smiled. Usually, Ruby glaring at me suddenly in the middle of the night scared me, as it invoked something neither I, nor Google understood. But tonight, I was so blissful that not even Ruby¡¯s scary zombie sleeping habits could change my mind.


    My blissful mood lasted almost up until the weekend of New Member Training. I got a B on my quiz and it didn¡¯t bother me. I tripped and fell, scraping my knee to a bloody pulp and I thought of it as interesting and tried to do what I would do if I were fully in EMS. I didn¡¯t think about how disgusting the cafeteria food was or how I longed for some steamed vegetables after all of the fried meat covered in cheese that I had been eating.


    I woke up the morning of the first day nervous again that they had gotten the lists wrong. The butterflies from my stomach had invaded every other part of my body. I shook myself off to clear my head but I still felt a foggy fear.


    Ruby had been accepted too. She stood at her desk, staring at me in a would-you-please-get-dressed kind of way. I hated being late too, but I just couldn¡¯t seem to get it together enough to get fully dressed.


    When I finally pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Ruby was chomping at the bit. I was afraid she was going to hit me over the head with her jar of peanut butter. The door was open and she had one foot outside. The other foot was inside to remind me that she was bound by social constraints to wait for me. I grabbed my phone and my key card and followed her out.

 Chapter 11

    When we arrived, the rest of our cohort was already lounging in the chairs that had little desks attached to them. Ruby recognized someone from her class, a girl named Lily, and they fell to talking about statistics and the boys in their class with glee.


    The front of the classroom contained a projector. The leprechaun was standing at a podium, waving his hands for attention. ¡°Now that everyone is here. My name is Carl. I¡¯m the Captain of EMS, which means I make sure that we stay on our A-game 24/7.¡±


    Carl went on to explain that he would be telling us about the organization¡¯s structure rules and policy for the first half of the day, that they would teach us CPR in the afternoon, and they would train us on the radios and about the equipment the next day. He told us that if we were already EMTs we could leave for the CPR portion but that everything else was mandatory, ¡°which meant no long bathroom breaks.¡± Everyone shifted in their seats, probably wishing they had gone to the bathroom before they sat down.


    Carl launched into his spiel about EMS. ¡°This organization was founded in 1987 by a small group of dedicated individuals, committed to keeping their college campus safe. We have grown from an organization of just 7 people, to one of 40, of which you make up 25 of those people.¡±


    I glanced around. Our class was enormous; we made up more than half of the entire organization.


    A slightly chubby girl behind me, wearing a ¡°Sleep with an EMT, Stay safe at night¡± shirt snickered. ¡°If they can hack it for long enough.¡±


    Carl continued, but we had all heard. ¡°There are some rules you should all know. You cannot drink alcohol less than twelve hours before a shift. If you are underage, you are expected to follow the law. No drugs. When you are in uniform, you represent our organization so act professionally. All trip sheets must be submitted less than twenty-four hours after the call that it is documenting.¡±


    ¡°And try not to be a crazy psychopath,¡± the girl behind me said. The EMS members stiffened and looked at us to see if we knew what they were talking about. But how could we. We had just been accepted.


    ¡°Other than that, try to have fun. Enjoy the training. You guys are going to really enjoy your time with us.¡± He motioned to someone in the back. ¡°Can you pass these out?¡±


    The person he had motioned to passed the sheets of paper out.


    ¡°Is this a quiz?¡± someone said.


    Carl smiled. ¡°Nervous? This is just to see if you were paying attention.¡±


    I raised my hand.  ¡°Can I have a pen?¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    A few people around me reached into their backpacks. I picked the one least covered in backpack lint.


    ¡°You may begin,¡± Carl said.


    I got through a lot of questions, but looking around, I could see that no one could remember what year EMS had been founded in.


    I had taken a guess and said 1982.  But the others weren¡¯t even trying to guess. I handed my sheet in and went back to sit at my seat with nothing to do. Ruby finished right after me and Lily finished right after her. We all sat there, observing the graying carpet we had already scrutinized.


    When everyone was finished, Carl flipped through the papers and sighed. ¡°First order of business, you need to learn how to listen. All of you got the date of the founding wrong. Let me know when you figure out what the correct answer is.¡±


    Next, Akul stood up and walked to the podium. He didn¡¯t stand there to speak though. He needed to insert a DVD and the player was located on the shelf. ¡°CPR time, guys! Let¡¯s go.¡±


    He made everyone pick a partner and find a CPR mannequin, models of the top half of men covered in plastic with gaping faces. Ruby and her friend knelt beside one and I came over and joined them.


    I was afraid that I would look as ridiculous as I ended up looking. CPR is not a glamorous thing although it looks great in T.V. shows. Akul and the droning video instructor assured us that with their contrived video skits with middle-aged men falling to the ground and clutching their chests.


    We began to laugh, out of fear that someday, someone¡¯s lives would be in our hands, and that fear made our learning seem ludicrous, because who were we to try to play God like this?


    ¡°Remember to activate the emergency response system,¡± the video instructor monotoned.


    ¡°Activate,¡± we said, punching our fists in the air like superheroes.


    We practiced compressions, our hips moving too much because we didn¡¯t know where to place our knees or our jokes and so we felt tired after only a few rounds. We were assured that in a real situation, we could be doing this for ten minutes. I promised myself I would start working out, lifting weights perhaps. I would have to find a tutorial so I didn¡¯t die by dumbbell accident. That would be dumb.


    And throughout the entire video, they told war stories. They always began with ¡°So I was on the call with the¡­¡± and they would start with the patient or perhaps, if it was worthy, the injury or condition. CPR would have taken no time at all if they hadn¡¯t been telling their stories but I wonder if we would have gotten the real experience. It seemed like the war stories were a tradition, with everyone trying to one-up the other with goriness or the skills they had been able to practice. They talked about X-Acto knife slips during finals and professors losing consciousness during class. Every one of them had been able to be there, where the action was.


    They walked around to all of us, correcting our form, our posture, the rate at which we were performing compressions. They did it so calmly, like this was second nature to them, like they did a few compressions before their morning coffee.


    Akul had us perform CPR individually, so he could make sure we were doing it correctly and then dismissed us, telling us he would see us tomorrow for the fun stuff. We all funneled ourselves out the door, still making jokes about CPR and the cheesy skits they had shown us. We had something in common now. This was my EMS class. I was now a part of it. I couldn¡¯t wait until the next day, when we could learn even more about each other.

 Chapter 12

    Flint saw me as I arrived in the dorm from my day of EMS. He was sitting upside down in the common area, reading a book.


    ¡°Andi, finally. Can you read me this? The words are floating off the page to attack me.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I have to do homework.¡±


    ¡°I need a personal assistant,¡± Flint said.


    I sat down at my desk and Flint threw himself into the pillow fort we had created the other day.


    ¡°I was thinking we try one of those pizza cones tomorrow, celebrate the Lord¡¯s Day.¡±


    I shook my head again.


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± he said. ¡°Glorious EMS has called upon you to serve your campus.¡±


    I gave him a little smack on the head and went back to my homework. Not that I could concentrate. My mind was filled with little brain cells practicing CPR and going over the facts I could remember about the organization. I wanted to be sharp. I wanted to ace the next test they decided to give me. I had no idea that it was going to be test after test after test, that I had signed up for a stressful, subjective ride.


    * * *


    The next morning, when we were in our seats, ready to continue learning, the EMS person who had come to interviews with Carl hungover was standing at the front of the classroom. He stood with his feet shoulder width apart and his hands grasped his belt buckle, drawing everyone¡¯s eyes down the triangle of his torso. I couldn¡¯t take my eyes off of him. His energy was electric. I would later learn that he had been in the military before college, which explained a great deal about his presentation style.


    His voice carried over the hubbub that we were causing. ¡°Listen up! We have a lot to cover and we have to get started.¡±


    We settled down. His voice was so loud we couldn¡¯t pretend to not hear him. I was intrigued by the calm way he commanded the room¡¯s attention. I began to watch him, taking note of the way his soft lips shaped his words. His teaching voice invited us all to participate.


    ¡°My name is John. Today,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re going to talk about documentation. Can anyone tell me what that is?¡±


    Anker¡¯s hand shot into the air. I rolled my eyes internally. Of course the kid who had been doing EMS all his life knew.


    ¡°It¡¯s an EMT¡¯s way of recording what interventions they performed during a medical call,¡± Anker said.


    Ruby rolled her eyes openly. I had filled her in on my interaction with Anker.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    John nodded and moved on. ¡°Can anyone tell me why we document these interventions?¡±


    Anker¡¯s hand was up again. John turned his attention back to Anker.


    ¡°Yes?¡± John said.


    Anker giggled. ¡°The documentation can be used as a legal document should an EMT get sued.¡±


    John seemed short on praise. ¡°Have any of you done documentation before?¡±


    Anker¡¯s hand was in the air. Surprise.


    ¡°Put your hand down,¡± Ruby mumbled. ¡°We get it.¡±


    John continued without acknowledging Anker. ¡°We¡¯ll start with the first page¡­¡±


    Behind John a fizzing image of a web page appeared. He began to run through the boxes, highlighting those in which, he said, many people made mistakes. I tried to follow along but there were so many boxes to memorize and I didn¡¯t have any context to organize the information with. He acknowledged that it was difficult out of context and that all of our trip sheets, the documentation, would be written under the supervision of a higher ranking member until we had been cleared to write trip sheets by ourselves.


    ¡°Now, for the radios,¡± John said.


    He pulled a radio off of his tactical belt and held it up for everyone to see. The radio had a spiraling cord and what looked like an even smaller radio attached to it.


    ¡°This,¡± he said, ¡°is your friend. This radio is how you will be able to communicate with the rest of the crew, to receive your dispatches from the police and to get additional resources, should you need them.¡±


    ¡°How do I use a radio, John?¡± a boy yelled. I turned to see Fothorn, Jacob Fothorn. Of course he was already friends with the old EMS members. I envied the ease with which he bantered with them. They had already accepted him.  His acceptance to EMS was just a formality.


    ¡°Would you sit down?¡± John said. He waved him off like a bro, an affectionate bro. ¡°These radios are incredibly simple. There is a button that you press. When you press that button, you will hear a tone. That¡¯s called a key up. When you key up, you wait for that sound to stop and then you talk. Remember, this isn¡¯t a conversation at 2 am with your girlfriends.¡±


    Everyone smiled sheepishly, like John had already guessed that they planned to fool around on the radios.


    ¡°If you want to talk to someone, you say their call sign first. You will all be allowed to pick numbers, which will be your call signs, when you are full members of EMS.¡±


    I understood the radios. My brother and I had used radios shaped like ladybugs to communicate with each other late at night when one or both of our phones had been taken away for misbehavior. I felt the tears threatening to overcome the barriers of my eyes. I smiled to banish the tears back to the pit of my stomach as more information got thrown at us. I tried to keep up but I wasn¡¯t so afraid of falling behind. I reminded myself that I was learning something important, like Helen Keller when she first discovered sign language. I had found people that I wanted to communicate with.


    The projector sent its lights to the board, forming digital words with weight. These EMS members were trying to impart weight to our activity, which was the least like an extracurricular activity of all the other groups on campus. It was most like a job, I would soon discover. Perhaps if I had known how hard the coming year would be, I would have reconsidered, said thank you for a great weekend and left the rest on the table. But they didn¡¯t demonstrate how hard it was going to be and I didn¡¯t leave them after that weekend.

 Chapter 13

    Flint and I went to Schenley Park to blow off some steam. We had to get out of the dorms before we went crazy. The whole walk there, Flint told ghost stories about clowns escaping from asylums and babysitters left alone. He sprinkled in facts about the number of recent bear sightings. I pretended that I was calm, trying to form a wall of logic to prevent the terror from seeping in.


    We lay down on our backs in the dewy grass, basking in the cool darkness that blanketed everything we could see.


    ¡°I feel like it is fate that I met you right now,¡± Flint said.


    ¡°Me too,¡± I said, trying on the words to see if they fit.


    ¡°You¡¯re a closed book, Andi.¡± He rolled over onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. ¡°What are you hiding?¡±


    I thought about my mother¡¯s call, the one that should have saved us. I thought about my brother being loaded into an ambulance with my father standing by. I saw myself in the reflective window, watching, not being able to do anything. I looked up at him and prayed he couldn¡¯t see through me. There was no way for him to understand, but he wanted an answer anyway.


    I pulled his lion¡¯s mane of hair towards me, drawing his face to mine. He paused and I wondered if he needed the answer to his question more than he needed me. But the moment passed and our lips met.  We kissed, rolling up and down the small dunes that formed below the grass, each searching for something to hold on to. The darkness sent chills through me but when he pulled me close by the small of my back, the strength of my emotions lit a candle in my stomach. No answer could have been its equal.


    * * *


    My first shift was on that Wednesday. They had asked us to sign up for one 24-hour shift every two weeks ahead of time. They said if we wanted to take more duty, we would be able to sign up at 6 pm (they called it 1800), the day of, for a shift at 9 pm (or 2100). They called it sniping.


    I called the office to ask to be let in. Only full-fledged members had key cards that gave them access to the office whenever they wanted. I had to be allowed in. The sarcastic girl, Sandy, from the weekend opened the door.


    I moved into the office, feeling out of place for the first time. Everyone had something to do, and I was just standing there, useless. I followed someone into a small side room and watched them as they shoved medical equipment into a blue bag, branded with a big blue asterisk known as the star of life.


    Sandy came up behind me. ¡°First shift, right? Go get a jump kit and a checklist. I¡¯ll walk you through it.¡±


    As if it was that easy. I sidled into the storage room and selected one of the blue bags. Upon opening it, I discovered that it was nearly empty. I shouldered it and searched through the clutter to find a sheet that looked like a checklist. The problem was that all the sheets of paper looked like checklists and none of them seemed relevant to the bag I had on my shoulder. I finally found a sheet entitled ¡°Jump Kit Checklist¡± and stood by the sarcastic girl who had taken charge of my initial shift.


    ¡°Fill the jump kit up with the equipment in the closet, counting everything out. You don¡¯t want to show up on scene without your equipment. That¡¯s embarrassing.¡±


    I retreated to the closet, regretting my choice of the empty bag. The other guy hadn¡¯t had to fill up his jump kit.


    I placed gauze pads and trauma sheers and oral glucose in their correct amounts in different pockets. I evaluated each piece of equipment before it made it in, willing it to help me through this night without making a fool of myself in front of these people. When I was done, I presented it to the girl and let her inspect it.


    ¡°Good,¡± she said. ¡°Do you have a watch? A belt? Boots?¡±


    I showed her each item as she asked.


    ¡°A knife?¡± someone said from the other room.


    She closed her eyes. ¡°People around here think they¡¯re cool because they carry knives.¡±


    I nodded like that bothered me too.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you learned everything you could in New Member Training but I¡¯ll tell you a little more about the organization they left out. A lot of people in here are what we call whackers, people who take pride in the intensity with which they love EMS. They do EMS all the time, to the point where it consumes their lives. They carry knives, wear combat boots and are always telling you about how cool their last call was.¡±


    I looked around, checking to see if she was offending anyone in the office. They seemed to be in agreement with her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t date anyone in EMS. And definitely don¡¯t bake for anyone in EMS.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I said.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll tell you when you¡¯re older.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°That¡¯s how¡­¡± a girl closer to my age started.


    Sandy silenced her with a glare. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll figure it out eventually.¡±


    I silently prayed that I would. That sounded like an insiders secret to me.


    ¡°Oh, and try to stay away from John. He might end up in your bed somehow.¡± The two girls high-fived and walked into the next room.


    The statement triggered images that I tried to suppress. I wondered what was so bad about John and him ending up in my bed. Was there something wrong with John that I didn¡¯t know? I sat on a rolling desk chair for a while, watching people watch TV on their computers.  No one said anything further to me that night until I asked if I could sleep in my own room that night.


    ¡°You live on campus?¡± they said. ¡°You can stay in the dorms at night.¡±


    I smuggled myself back into my room, surprised that I¡¯d rather be with Ruby than with the EMS crew. I felt exhausted from putting on a show all weekend and then again today. I just wanted to let the darkness of sleep hide me for a moment while I recharged from being what everyone wanted to see.


    Ruby rolled over when I arrived at our room. ¡°First shift? I¡¯ll take your picture if you get a call.¡±


    I smiled. I would actually like that. ¡°Thanks, Ruby.¡±


    ¡°The tones will wake me up. You should probably turn your radio way up. I was told people sleep through them. Those people never advance.¡±


    I lay awake, clenching my bed sheets in my fists to keep my eyes open. I refused to fall asleep and be the first probie to miss a call. I would never advance. The light from my alarm clock glowered red, daring me to sleep. It showed 4:07. I knew I would regret not sleeping.


    A high-pitched foghorn noise invented by someone with a blackened soul woke me. The fear and adrenaline sent me straight towards the wall. My head cracked against the corner of the bed as I cursed the organization for not preparing me for how vicious their call to action was.


    Ruby didn¡¯t move at all. Of course she could sleep through the sound of hell breaking loose. I sighed, letting go of the hope of a picture.


    ¡°Station to EMS.¡± They paused to wait for a response.


    ¡°EMS, go ahead.¡± The sarcastic girl did not sound happy.


    ¡°Please respond to the basement of Cosby Library for a female who is currently having a seizure.¡±


    Adrenaline surged through my blood catapulting me into a run. I threw open doors and pumped my legs as hard as I could. From my radio, I heard, ¡°That¡¯s received. You can show EMS en route. All available units, please call in.¡±


    I waited my turn and then spoke. ¡°p5 from the crossroads.¡±


    ¡°p5 and 20, you can continue on. All other units, disregard.¡±


    The light at the crossroads changed and I started running again, promising myself again that I would get into shape so this didn¡¯t cause my lungs to light on fire.


    Two bikes zipped past me. Akul, callsign 20, called back, ¡°See you at the call.¡±


    I sped up. There was no way I was going to miss this call because I had short legs.


    When I arrived, the patient was already surrounded by EMS. I stood by Akul and tried to look authoritative. The patient didn¡¯t look like she was having a seizure. She looked like she was taking a nap. Beside us, a large group of students had decided to abandon their homework and crowd in on us. I questioned why they were doing homework at 4 am.


    ¡°You can try a sternal rub if she¡¯s still unresponsive,¡± Akul said.


    I nodded like I knew what that meant. I took my hand and gently touched her sternum.


    Akul belly laughed. ¡°No, like this.¡± He pulled his hand into a fist and demonstrated pushing on her sternum with his knuckles. ¡°Now you.¡±


    I did as he said. The patient made a sound. I moved away, afraid I had hurt her.


    Akul gave me a thumbs up. ¡°That means she is still breathing. It¡¯s good that she¡¯s responsive to pain.¡±


    ¡°Now, take vitals.¡± Akul said.


    I could do that. I pulled the stethoscope out of my bag and started trying to assess the girl¡¯s pulse, blood pressure and breathing rate.


    For the rest of the call, I sat back on my heels and watched. Akul and Sandy operated in sync, each knowing what role they played. I felt like an extra finger that someone might try to chop off to restore balance. The paramedics that worked for the city of Pittsburgh came and put her on a stretcher. By that time, she was awake and talking and very unhappy she wasn¡¯t going to be able to spend the night studying. We packed up our bags and walked out of the library, leaving the studying students in our wake. We formed a triangle; Akul and I followed Sandy. It felt like Mean Girls.


    Sandy turned to 20. ¡°Akul, explain to me what happened.¡±


    Akul started spewing words like ¡°post-ictal¡± and naming medications like a pro. My head spun like the girl in the Exorcist. He threw terms back and forth with Sandy. Then, the turned their attention on me, the last thing I wanted.


    ¡°How did you think that went?¡±


    ¡°Um, good?¡± I said. ¡°She didn¡¯t die.¡±


    They laughed. ¡°No, she didn¡¯t. It was just a seizure. She¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Good on vitals. Were you nervous?¡±


    ¡°A little,¡± I said.


    ¡°It didn¡¯t show. Learning the sternal rub on the spot, maybe not such a good idea, but we can blame Akul for that. Ask people to teach you things during shift change or you won¡¯t learn anything and you¡¯ll be doing vitals forever.¡±


    She said vitals like it meant shoveling horseshit.


    Back at the room, I set myself back up for the fastest room exit possible, setting my radio next to my head and my jump kit and shoes by the door. Sleeping in jeans and a t-shirt was causing me to sweat but I stayed in my uniform, as I had been instructed to do. I checked my phone for texts, as if someone else would have been up at 4 am too, and climbed onto my plastic excuse for a mattress.

 Chapter 14

    I soon discovered that all college students believed sleep was for the weak. It was again, the middle of the night and I had been asleep when Akul and Carl burst through the door laughing with Ruby and her friend, Lily, on their backs. They fell into a pile on the floor. I shot up in bed, afraid, for a moment, that we were having an earthquake. I couldn¡¯t take more topography shifting events.


    Ruby realized I was sleeping. I had no idea what she thought I would have been doing because she had done this before. But she had never done it with EMS people. How had they been invited to hang out with EMS people and I hadn¡¯t? Had I not seemed fun enough? I peered over at them from my lofted bed and they looked up. Akul¡¯s eyes were hypnotizing, the blue and green flecks shining like hidden gems. I wanted to brush the hair out of his face, keep his eyes focused on the world.


    ¡°Ruby, you didn¡¯t tell us Andi was your roommate!¡± Akul said.


    ¡°Oh, sorry. Andi is my roommate,¡± Ruby said. Everyone laughed.


    I smiled, hoping that it crept up into my eyes. Ruby performed so effortlessly.


    ¡°Come on down, Andi,¡± Carl said. ¡°We¡¯re going exploring. Want a piggy back ride?¡±


    And just like that, I was in again. We ran out of my room holding our arms out, children pretending to be airplanes, pretending to be anywhere but here. We flew over the dreary carpets of puke colored greens and past the whiteboards of work-work-work. We jetted across streets, speeding up when the cars we were dodging started beeping. We bumped into each other and our giggles bubbled up like champagne. We were lights, planes that could pass for stars, and in the darkness, we were radiant.


    We landed in a dorm¡¯s common room. Smaller-than-normal couches littered the floor and we took full advantage, flopping on them like dreary fish. Ruby and Akul pulled two couches together and made themselves a fort. Carl must have thought himself lucky to have two girls by his side and put his arms around each of us. I tensed my muscles, ready to flee and hoped that Akul or Ruby would look out at us and end the situation.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Are you tired?¡± Carl said to Lily and me.


    I nodded, using the small movement to try and put some space between myself and Carl.


    ¡°Maybe we should go to sleep?¡± I said, squirming even farther to the left.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Carl said, realizing my direction and taking his arm off of my shoulder. He focused his attention on Lily who stared at his face in adoration.


    I launched myself onto another couch and curled up in a ball. Carl leaned back and Lily rested her head on his chest. They looked like babies, falling asleep with their mouths open, occasionally twitching to ward off an unwanted dream.


    I hugged a pillow to my chest, regretting my decision to run away. Everyone else had made a friend, and I was on a cold couch, cuddling a scratchy pillow.


    We started hanging out as a group, two boys, two girls and me. We would run around campus being silly and listening to their stories until it got too late and then we would sleep somewhere random and possibly against the rules, wake up with sore necks when the light called to us and go back to our dorms to shower, dress and pretend that we were getting 8 hours.


    Being in EMS was more fun when you knew people. Flint kept asking me to do our chocolate chip cookie ritual or listen to music and I had to turn him down. I was always trying to catch up on sleep, homework or taking care of myself. I didn¡¯t have time for more. Especially with the shifts I was taking. I had started sniping shifts with Ruby and Lily. Everyone would get very quiet around 5:55 pm and everyone would start fidgeting with their phones. We would all try to be discreet so as not to alert the others of what we were doing, but we all knew. I had the delay in Internet connection down to a science. I knew at what second I needed to press submit for the Internet to transmit my message at 6:00 pm on the dot.

 Chapter 15

    One Friday, Ruby and I learned that there was to be a fraternity party where the entire first floor was covered in a foot of sand. It was already getting colder and we decided on one last taste of summer, despite the fact that it would probably be mixed with the taste of cheap beer. I had been warned about Pittsburgh winters; they were so cold that it people could get frostbite if they weren¡¯t dressed appropriately (as in covered head to toe in wool). It was also the kind of winter that brought people together, through having something to complain about, a shared enemy. Ruby pulled out all of her cutoff jean shorts and laid them on her desk, which, I had discovered, is what she believed her desk to be for.


    ¡°America tube top or tie dye tank top?¡± she asked me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think the American flag is a little much for this party?¡±


    ¡°But tie dye is childish¡­¡±


    It was funny to me the way that people always asked me for advice and then fought against it. They would seem like they were genuine about their desire to be guided. And then, once guided, they would realize that they actually did have strong feelings and I would feel like an idiot for not anticipating what they actually wanted me to say. Perhaps I should have stopped giving advice all together. But that kind of idea about giving advice was hard to explain. And you couldn¡¯t just say no if someone asked you a question. Well, you could, but then you¡¯d be a jerk and no one would ask you for advice¡­and it was nice to be asked.


    I borrowed a pair of Ruby¡¯s cutoff shorts because I had nothing even remotely summery.My mother would never have approved of how short they were. I tried on her shirts but we were different sizes so I wore my bathing suit and one of the tank tops I wanted to care about, but couldn¡¯t. Ruby and I stared at ourselves in the mirror. Ruby admired herself while I wished I was more comfortable with my body. I looked like I was heading out to do yard work, not go to a fraternity beach party.


    Ruby was in a bubbling champagne-like mood. ¡°Shots.¡±


    I hesitated, as I was not known for the amount I was able to drink.


    Ruby poured me one anyway, a shot of something pink that tasted like it looked.


    Flint pushed open the door we had left dead bolted.


    ¡°Oh, wow. Where are you two going?¡±


    ¡°A ¡°Minding Your Own¡± Anonymous meeting,¡± Ruby said.


    I winced. ¡°There¡¯s a party down the street.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to be cold? It¡¯s like 50 degrees out there,¡± Flint said.


    I faltered, running through the female empowerment mantras I had heard all my life about how I should be able to dress the way I wanted to without being judged, without my appearance being commented on. But I just felt bad. When Ruby handed me the shot of pink, I drank it to forget that Flint disapproved of what I was doing.


    ¡°I was going to ask if you wanted to watch another episode of West Wing,¡± Flint said.


    ¡°Now¡¯s not really a good time. Maybe tomorrow?¡±


    He nodded, accepting my scrap offering, and walked out of the room.


    I probably should have run after him, given him a hug, apologized for not carrying my weight in our friendship for the last few weeks, perhaps even to try to get him to understand what EMS meant to me.  I did another pink shot and followed Ruby out of the room, already feeling like my brain was fuzzy and numb.


    When we arrived, it was chaos. When we stepped into the fraternity house, we were immediately assaulted by the stale smell of beer. The sand between our toes was fun to play with and we spent some time adjusting to the party vibe and attempting to build castles with our feet, because God forbid we touch the sand with our hands at this point in the night. No one knew what it could be hiding. The DJ was standing on a table, pumping his fist in the air and screaming the lyrics to every song. The group on the dance floor was gyrating their partners into the wall. In the corner, a group of men with large torsos and scrawny legs played beer pong. Ruby and I called the next game and settled in to watch the team before us get drunker and less coordinated with every cup they lost.


    When it was our turn, we washed the ping-pong balls off in water and started throwing. I threw overhand and Ruby threw underhand. Her tactic worked and she took out three of my cups in a row. I braced myself before each drink, praying that this one would not have some terrible disease picked up from the balls on the floor. The beer seemed to lubricate my throwing arm and I came back so we were even. We were cup for cup until one of the dancers stumbled off the dance floor and into our table, toppling our game and crashing into the wall. I jumped back. He groaned and his friends helped him up.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Ruby and I grabbed hands and walked out of the room. I was glad to have her beside me.  Once outside, we deliberated. Leave the party and go to sleep like losers or try and stick it out for another hour or two and call it a triumph. The door opened behind us and Akul and our adventuring crew with a few extras walked into the hallway.


    ¡°We thought we saw you! A bit too much to handle?¡± Akul asked.


    ¡°Let¡¯s blow this popsicle stand,¡± Carl said. ¡°Let¡¯s go see the skyline.¡±


    ¡°Only if you want me to turn into a popsicle,¡± I said, trying to be clever.


    John stepped forward and handed me his fleece. I reached out and touched it, looking at him again to see if he really had meant to offer it to me. His eyes were softer than they had been at the presentation, like melting chocolate chips. No one had ever looked at me that way. I slipped it on and it fell past my very short shorts. I pulled the fleece up to my hips so it did not look like I was only wearing a sweatshirt. I regretted wearing Ruby¡¯s shorts. I felt ridiculous, something only the dark of the other room had been able to hide.


    We bid the beach party goodbye and ended up at John¡¯s car. Akul said that he would drive and everyone piled in according to size, leaving me to be last, as I was the smallest. They had filled up the seats, with five people in the back three seats and Akul and John in the front two. There was no room for me.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll go home. See you guys tomorrow.¡±


    I began to walk towards my dorm, clutching the fleece tightly to me.


    ¡°Come on, you can sit on my lap. We can fit,¡± John said.


    I stared at the packed car. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have a seatbelt. What if we get into an accident?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all dead!¡± Ruby said.


    I took another step away from the car.


    John held his hand out to me. ¡°I¡¯ll be your seatbelt.¡±


    I contemplated the offer on the table: almost certain death and John¡¯s hand or reliable safety and no John. In the moment, my choice seemed pretty clear. I took his hand and got into the car. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his head on my shoulder. I felt a blush slide up my neck and warm my face. As we drove, I tried to stay as still as possible, a difficult feat when balancing on top of another person. When we took a turn, his arms would tighten around my waist, keeping me from tipping too far towards the window. His hands were so gentle but it felt like something more. Was John drunk or was he actually interested in me? I hoped we would get out of the car soon so I wouldn¡¯t have to figure out an answer to that question.


    When we arrived at the overlook, the highest point outside of the city, we all piled out of the car and ran for the railings. The chilled metal grabbed my hands as I tried to take in every part of the skyline. The buildings illuminated the sky, creating a glow that felt to me like the heart of the city. It pulsed and changed with the gusts of wind but it always continued to glow.


    I shuddered as the wind hit me from the side. Everyone rushed together into a penguin huddle, hoping not to be the one on the outside. I arrived last so I was left on the outside, trying to block the others from the wind with my naked legs and John¡¯s fleece. I wished I had been faster or just a few steps closer. After a few minutes of listening to Ruby, who was in the center, talk about how warm it was, I gave up. I decided to deal with the frigid temperature and enjoy my time, floating above the city.


    I heard footsteps from behind me. Someone had noticed my departure and come to my aid. I didn¡¯t turn around, in case they saw how upset I was at having been left on the edge, again. John¡¯s hands gripped the railing on both sides of me. I instantly felt warmer, but I wasn¡¯t sure if it was adrenaline or his body¡¯s heat.


    ¡°Do you know what that one is called?¡± he said, pointing to the building with the pink lights encircling the top like a laurel.


    I shook my head, too mute to think of a response.


    ¡°That¡¯s the US Steel building. It used to be where the US Steel Corporation was housed. Now, it¡¯s pretty much owned by UPMC. It¡¯s a symbol of the renaissance as the city switches from tech to healthcare,¡± he said.


    I wondered if the others were watching us. I wondered what they thought.


    ¡°If you follow that river, do you know what that bridge is called?¡±


    I turned my head to see what the rest of the group was doing during my history lesson. They were still huddled but it was looking more and more intimate. I looked away.


    John¡¯s hand brushed mine on the railing. I felt heat clamber up my abdomen and lodge in my chest. I shuddered again from the cold.


    ¡°You must be freezing,¡± he said.


    I tried to control the spasms I was having from being at a high altitude at three in the morning. The spasms didn¡¯t necessarily mean I was freezing. It meant my body was trying to prevent me from freezing.


    ¡°Would you want to hang out back at my room to warm up?¡±


    ¡°Maybe another time,¡± I said smiling, as if we hung out all the time.


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re not going to let me warm you up, we have to do something. I have a duty to act,¡± he said winking.


    I laughed into the sleeve of his fleece at his cheesy line.


    ¡°Come on guys, let¡¯s pack up and go home,¡± John said to the group.


    I looked up, surprised that someone had decided to single-handedly change our plans. The even more surprising thing was that the group listened to him. They all gathered the bags they had dropped and started towards the car. John guided my shoulder around and we followed, even though John led. I wished that I could be more like him.


    When we arrived back at the dorm, Ruby and I fell out of the car in our haste and ran towards our rooms and our beds, waving behind us.


    ¡°Are you okay? He doesn¡¯t have to do that if you don¡¯t want him to,¡± Ruby said.


    So they had seen.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I want,¡± I said.


    Ruby took me by the arm in an oddly maternal way. ¡°That¡¯s all right.¡±

 Chapter 16

    What wasn¡¯t all right was the fact that, the next day, I had told Flint that I would watch West Wing with him. I had a massive amount of homework that I had been ignoring because of all my late night excursions and I wasn¡¯t sure if I was going to be able to get any of it done. I tried to get as much of it done as I could, but pounding my head against the desk and the bed it resided under didn¡¯t seem to make a difference.


    I could only focus on one thing, reliving my times with the crew and John, with minor modifications to make myself seem cooler, of course. I knew I had made mistakes and daydreaming was my way of reimagining the past so it turned out more in my favor. I recalled the warmth of John¡¯s arms and the fear of crashing, erased the fear of crashing and added some wind in my hair. I brought to mind Ruby holding my hand and discarded her warning about John¡¯s romantic past. I made myself better at pong, and wittier. Imagination land was the most fun because I was in control. Sometimes I even dreamed of standing up to my father, although that dream never went very far. I shuffled through my papers, trying to force myself away from my daydreams.


    ¡°Who¡¯s ready for some political sarcasm and snippy humor?¡± Flint tumbled into the room, a happy puppy.


    I put my head on the desk.


    Flint stroked my hair. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Andi? Not in the mood for continuous moving scenes tonight?¡±


    I showed him my incomplete statistics homework. I hoped he didn¡¯t look too closely. My handwriting was fine, what was written in it was not.


    He put his water bottle on my desk and snatched it out of my hands. ¡°Why must you elude me, Sorkin? I merely want to bask in your words.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The papers drifted back to my desk, smothering my hopes of getting anything done tonight.


    Flint¡¯s face fell as he realized that I was serious. That yes, I hadn¡¯t seen him for a week but, no, we weren¡¯t going to be hanging out any time soon, because, of course, I had spent all of my time hanging out with EMS people.


    ¡°I guess you¡¯ve been really busy,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯m really trying here,¡± I said, which only made him more upset.


    ¡°You had all day to do this homework and you¡¯ve started now? You had to have known about this for at least a week. Why did you go to that party last night? Huh? You thought this would all disappear?¡±


    ¡°You sound like my mother.¡±


    ¡°Grow up then,¡± he said.


    Flint left me with my statistics homework and my blanket. I felt jittery, the sick feeling in my stomach threatening to rebel. I knew that this was my fault, that Flint was only trying to be a friend and that I had blown him off more than one too many times. I picked up his water bottle and contemplated where Flint¡¯ alma mater had printed it¡¯s name. It was a funny kind of posterity, to be remembered on a water bottle. Flint would have appreciated it had he stayed.


    I ripped a sheet of paper out of a notebook and began to pen a letter. Flint, I¡¯m sorry. Flint, I know I messed up. Flint, I still want to watch with you, if only for your commentary on inconsistencies between scenes and lines that were not intended to be said, ever. I tried not to make excuses for my behavior, even though all I wanted to do was have him understand my side. He didn¡¯t get what EMS meant to me. Being understood is so much harder when you¡¯ve just turned down West Wing.


    I folded up the paper and wrote Flint in big block letters on the outside flap. I slipped it under his door, into the darkness. I wasn¡¯t sure if he was still in the room or choosing to hide in a way that would make me feel guilty if I found him. I hoped that he would see the letter before his roommate. It was one thing to bare your heart to a friend. A friend¡¯s roommate was almost the enemy.

 Chapter 17

    I did some asking around about John and Sandy. Akul was pretty quiet on the matter. He would only say ¡°John really liked her last year. It didn¡¯t work out.¡± Carl on the other hand was full of information and he didn¡¯t have the consciousness to keep it to himself.


    ¡°They slept together. For sure.¡±


    I felt my heart tighten, draining the blood from my face.


    ¡°He was super into her. She wasn¡¯t so much but she wasn¡¯t above using him,¡± Carl said.


    ¡°How do you know that¡¯s what happened?¡±


    He ignored my question. ¡°He has a problem. Every girl he falls for becomes the center of his universe. Can you handle that?¡±


    I stopped breathing.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± he said.


    * * *


    The next night was full of vomit. Every call was from someone who had the flu. And they called like clockwork, every forty minutes. We had just enough time to send one patient off to the hospital before heading to the next one. We ran from one dorm room to the other, following the smell and trying not to succumb to the trend. We advised water, we sent them in ambulances, and we put facemasks on everyone. Still, the flow did not abate. We ran to each call and I began to wonder why I was running. Why was I running towards something that would make me sick? Perhaps I was trying to punish myself, but everyone around me was running too. It must have been something we were born with. The need to run with a pack. My mother would have appreciated the need but not the way I went about it.


    I felt like it was something I might die with. When I arrived home at 8 am, after all the calls had stopped coming in, I lay down in a blanket beneath my lofted bed and passed out in the comfort of the plastic fibers, allowing them to pull me towards oblivion where I hoped I stayed. I woke up twelve hours later. I grasped the edge of the desk and tried to hoist myself upwards, only succeeding when I used my other hand as well. Once up, I staggered like the town drunk to the door, only to fall back down as my equilibrium performed a jig.


    I felt my dinner from the previous night attempt to claw its way out of my body. I leaned over the trashcan and stayed there for a long, long time.


    I couldn¡¯t call EMS. It was taboo. No one in EMS called EMS unless they thought they were going to die. You didn¡¯t want your reputation to be, ¡°such a bad EMT that you need another EMT to help you.¡± I texted Flint instead. It was something pathetic, attempting to be funny, like ¡°I know you¡¯re mad but if you stay mad much longer, I might not make it. Sick as a dog. Please help?¡±


    I curled up beside the garbage can and tried to sleep, falling into nightmares. An hour later, I woke up and began a pattern of throwing up every hour. I began to tear up. My insides felt like they had been wrung out. I needed help. Ruby was out with her friends and wouldn¡¯t have come near our room with a ten-foot pole at that moment. Flint was furious with me and my mom was light years away. I had spent almost three months in college and there was still no one I could call to get me some water or text me something comforting. I wanted my mother, regardless of the fact that she had always been unhelpful when I was sick. At least she had been there.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    My eyes traveled to the fleece that was hanging off of my desk chair. I had never returned it to John. It was by accident, I told myself in the daylight.  It was so worth it, I said as I passed by it each night.


    I texted John. ¡°Hi John, Sorry to bother you. I¡¯m really sick. Can you bring me a bottle of water? I¡¯m worried about getting dehydrated and I don¡¯t want to call EMS.¡±


    He was there in less than ten minutes and he brought all his equipment. I cried a little, thankful that there was someone who was willing to help me.


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± He stroked my hair.


    I almost passed out in relief. John handed me a Gatorade. ¡°Lemon-lime. It does no harm,¡± he said, sharing his catch phrase with me.


    I drank it, trying to ignore the fact that my mother would have cried at the amount of chemicals I was ingesting. John constructed a nest of blankets and pillows beneath my bed. He helped me move there and followed me with a fresh trash bag.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this,¡± I said.


    ¡°Get some sleep.¡± John settled himself in Ruby¡¯s desk chair with a book.


    I stayed like that for another 24 hours. Sleeping, waking up every hour to throw up and sleeping. John never left my side. He ordered food to my room and kept me stocked up on Gatorade, eve though I couldn¡¯t keep anything down.


    When I woke up on the second day, John set his book down like it had burned him.


    ¡°You¡¯re green,¡± he said.


    ¡°I know I¡¯m young, but I really did think I was learning the EMS stuff. I¡¯ll keep trying,¡± I said, attempting to form sentences without moving my lips.


    ¡°No. You¡¯ve turned green. I¡¯ve never seen someone turn green before.¡±


    I rolled over. I didn¡¯t want to be green in front of John.


    ¡°Can I put an IV in your arm? You¡¯re too dehydrated. You haven¡¯t been absorbing any of the Gatorade.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°You won¡¯t be able to get a vein. No one can.¡±


    Looking back, someone might say that I should have gone to the hospital. But they don¡¯t know what they do for the flu at hospitals. At hospitals, they give IVs and Zofran, an anti-nausea medication. Which John had a prescription for and gave with the IV. He was able to get the IV in, first try, no problem. His smile showed how proud he was to have accomplished what I said no one had been able to do. He hung the bag on the spring hooks underneath the mattress. I swallowed the Zofran and went back to sleep.


    In my dreams, I heard voices swirling around me. My mother¡¯s voice, commanding me to keep people from seeing me in my weakened state. My father¡¯s voice telling me I couldn¡¯t hack it. My brother called out, asking me to protect him to help him keep my father calm. And Flint¡¯s voice, which was probably wishful thinking, asking how I was, offering to stay with me a while. There was a crash, the sound of glass shattering. My brother screamed, ¡°Andi.¡± They began to swirl together in a nauseating nightmare that ended in me feeling like I was being consumed by a sentient couch.


    When I woke up, I felt infinitely better. The Zofran was preventing me from throwing up and the IV was working.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said to John, startling him out of his book.


    ¡°Are you feeling better?¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I took up so much of your time and that you had to see me at my worst.¡± I almost covered my head with my blanket, once I realized what he had been doing.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen it all before,¡± he said. ¡°Besides, if this is your worst, you must be pretty spectacular.¡± He winked.


    I laughed, the first time I had even smiled in days.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to go shower, but let¡¯s hang out sometime, okay?¡± He ruffled my crows nest hair.


    A shower sounded like heaven. I bid him goodbye and emailed my teachers to tell them that I had been sick. I could only hope that they would understand. I had heard of stories of teachers who had outlined a no more than two absence per semester rule, and regardless of the circumstances, be it hospital-grade illness or family death, they would lower the grades because of it. There was no room for discretion in grades for classes of a hundred people. But I had heard it was worse in small classes, where the teachers took it personally.

 Chapter 18

    Sitting in my statistics class, I felt a streak of cold run through me. The professor had a stack of papers at the front of the room. They were returned quizzes and homework, but the professor was going to wait until the end of the class to return them so we wouldn¡¯t be distracted. I wanted to ask her why she didn¡¯t think displaying them in plain view would cause a loss of focus. Because I wasn¡¯t feeling razor sharp after seeing them.


    I stayed at my foldout desk, fighting the urge to leap over the rows in front of me and snatch the papers. I fidgeted with my pen as a way of distracting me from my teacher¡¯s distraction, because lecture was difficult to pay attention to on a good day. The seconds ticked and tocked, three fives making fifteen, and two fifteens making thirty and two thirties making a minute and thank god it had been a minute. I had a moment of fear: was I wishing my life away? Shouldn¡¯t I be enjoying every moment of it? Did those clich¨¦s even apply to classes?


    A change in pitch in my professor¡¯s voice indicated the end of class. She told us the papers were alphabetical and that we could get our own. The class mobbed the table, jockeying for a space where they could push through to their grades, something they had to know right now. I was in the mob in a second, vying for my place. Someone¡¯s elbow was in my face as I tried to move forward. Another person took a step forward, onto my foot. This was every man for himself.


    I broke through the vultures in the crowd and reached the stack of papers. My papers were close to the top because they had arranged it by first name. I took them out into the hallway and sat on the bench, breathing deeply and preparing myself for what I was about to see. I flipped it over, hoping that seeing the grade all in one moment would help with the process that came after. My test had received a 65%. My heart started beating. An A minus is not an A¡­I couldn¡¯t even finish the thought.


    I tried to calm my breathing down by inhaling, holding it, and letting it out. While my breathing slowed, my mind raced. How would I tell my parents? Would I tell my parents? Why were my grades so terrible? Math had never been difficult for me. Why did it have to start now? I put my test down and placed my head in my hands. I would just have to work harder, spend more time studying, and maybe get a tutor. I¡¯d never seriously considered the last one. It would ruin my pride to ask someone else for help in something I had always been good at.


    When I got back to my dorm, I tried to find a place for it. Not where I could hide it¡­but somewhere I wouldn¡¯t have to look at it. I thought the bottom of my drawers would work but I went through them all the time looking for pens and calculators. I didn¡¯t want it anywhere near my sleeping area. It might poison the environment. Finally, I just folded it and slid it between two books that were on the bookshelf on my desk. I would tell everyone when I was ready, when I had solved the problem.


    Flint walked in, closing the door behind him. I froze. He had my letter in his hand. I guess I was surprised that he had actually received the letter. I thought it would be like in one of those movies, where no one even needs to talk about the note. They all know what it means. But Flint slammed the letter on my desk, where the test had been, moments ago. His forehead was tight and it stretched his eyes to a flat, glossy mirror. Fear began to fill my arms, making them lead, keeping me in place. I tried to force the feeling away.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°I feel like I¡¯m playing second fiddle.¡± I finally got it out of him. ¡°I feel like all you care about is EMS and fitting in with them and going on duty that you ignore me until you¡¯re bored or don¡¯t have anything else to do. Then, you want to hang out with me. And I enable you. I just keep offering and moving my schedule around so when you feel like hanging out, I¡¯m ready, I¡¯m there. But that¡¯s ridiculous and I won¡¯t do it anymore.¡± He stopped to breathe.


    ¡°But I haven¡¯t been ignoring you. I¡¯ve just been busy!¡± I said. We could resolve this. It had to just be a misunderstanding.


    ¡°Busy with EMS? It¡¯s not an excuse. It¡¯s not just actual EMS. You spend every second you can in the office hanging out with them or going to parties or going on adventures. We can easily go a week without seeing each other. I just don¡¯t think I can handle it. I think this is the way it¡¯s going to be for a long time and I don¡¯t think I can do it anymore.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°I want to be friends with the Andi I met at the beginning of the year. Not this shadow of Andi, who is too blind to see what¡¯s she¡¯s doing.¡±


    I froze, remembering my frustration at not having anyone to help me when I was sick for three days. ¡°You can¡¯t put this all on me. I was basically dying of the flu for the last few days and I needed you and you refused to help me because you were mad.¡±


    ¡°I was there,¡± he said. ¡°I visited you. Asked if you were okay. I offered to stay. Your guard dog chased me off.¡±


    Tears burned down my face, wetting my neck as they traveled. How had I not realized? Could I do anything to keep Flint as my friend?


    ¡°Please,¡± I said. ¡°Please don¡¯t. I can get better. I promise.¡±


    Flint shook his head. ¡°I loved you, Andi. I have to take care of myself now.¡±


    I stared at his receding back as he exited my room. I couldn¡¯t fathom the melodramatic play that had just occurred in my eight-by-eight dorm room. It seemed too small a stage for such a confession. I didn¡¯t believe him. How could he truly have loved me and let his pride stop him from helping me when I was sick. John had left everything in his life for two days just to take care of an acquaintance. Love was not something you could turn on and off like an air-conditioning unit, just to make yourself feel better. Love was something you worked on and struggled through and were a martyr for.


    Flint had often told me that his parents had never fought when he was growing up. I found that hard to understand since my parents had fought all the time. Losing a fight was always something to avoid in my house and I tried to avoid them altogether because I realized that I generally lost either way, regardless of who accepted my point.


    If he had told me that he cared so much earlier, would things have gone a different way? Perhaps I would have been alternative and hipster and cool in my first year of college. Perhaps Flint and I would have been an item, keeping track of our happiness. I could have spent my free time watching West Wing instead of Emergency! But that didn¡¯t happen and I can¡¯t regret it. Regret would unravel the tight path that I had woven for myself to follow.

 Chapter 19

    Sitting in a practice room with my cello, everything felt foreign. I ran my fingers down the side, trying to keep my instrument and myself below the lowering bar of chaos. I picked up my bow and I slid it across the strings, feeling it screech in protest. I begged it to let me play the Moldau. I began again feeling the simple melody rush over me like the river it was supposed to embody the spirit of.


    I let my fingers do the work, keeping my mind from interfering. Freed from providing the entertainment, my homunculus wandered, settling itself amongst the couch cushions of memory and flipping on the internal screen. My brother¡¯s face gazed up at me, red and blotchy from crying. It was still present from my last guilt trip. Take me with you, he had said. I didn¡¯t have an answer to his real question. What will happen when you go? I couldn¡¯t stomach it. I wanted to tell him that I had tried.


    ¡°He could go to a school nearby,¡± I had offered, after bargaining for an hour to get him into a boarding school. ¡°We could live together. He wouldn¡¯t be alone.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Your father won¡¯t pay for it.¡± She had refused.


    I felt my heart wither. Money isn¡¯t power, but it sure does seem like it some days. ¡°We¡¯ll run away. You won¡¯t be able to find us.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see you try,¡± she said. ¡°If you stop bringing this up now, I won¡¯t tell your father. But the law is on our side.¡±


    The song grew through the low notes, rising to the tension with a grace that only water could embody. The next face was Flint¡¯s, and then John¡¯s. Flint¡¯s grin was just that while John¡¯s smile could put the clinically depressed at ease. I could feel their smiles melt away as they understood who I was. They walked away. You¡¯re not worth it. We knew it the whole time. I know that, I said, my fingers working the strings faster, sliding my bow harder, splitting some of the hairs in half. I dragged my bow across the last notes, holding them for longer than I should have, hoping that by prolonging the song, I would keep them with me for just a bit longer. The last note hung in the air. When I exhaled, it blew away like mist.


    I tried some of my scales. I didn¡¯t need any more memories.

 Chapter 20

    My next call was an ankle call, something that those in EMS joked were all we saw. Occasionally, EMS would refer to itself as the Emergency Mommy Service, for when things really didn¡¯t need 911. I always ran anyway. Everyone else seemed to be faster at getting to where we needed to be. They must have known shortcuts. Or perhaps they just were faster runners. I needed to run to get there even vaguely at the same time.


    This time, I arrived right behind Carl who was not sweating and looked completely put together. The stitch in my side told me that I looked like the opposite.


    ¡°How many calls have you done?¡± Carl said.


    ¡°Probably around 14 now.¡±


    ¡°Great. Then it¡¯s time for you to start leading.¡±


    I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to slow my tiring lungs. I straightened my uniform and did what I was told. I attempted to lead the call.


    The girl who had called us was seated to the side of a basketball court. She had her legs stretched out in front of her and she was cheering her intramural teammates on. I introduced myself and Carl and asked to see her ankle. She obliged, shifting her head as if I was blocking her view of the game.


    ¡°Does this hurt?¡± I said, pressing gently on each part of her ankle to locate where best to wrap it.


    ¡°Ow,¡± she said, the moment I asked. I looked up at Carl, who was watching while standing next to the police.


    I continued my examination, hoping that Carl would jump in if I did anything terrible. I removed an elastic bandage from my jump kit and began to wrap her ankle trying not to hurt her. When I was done, I looked at Carl. I had no idea how to assess whether or not she should go to the hospital.


    ¡°Do you want to go to the hospital?¡± Carl said.


    I looked at my boots. Of course that was how you assessed it.


    ¡°Me? Hell no,¡± she said. ¡°I have a test tomorrow.¡±


    I have a test tomorrow too, I thought. But I¡¯m here with you.


    ¡°Alright, then. Now that Andi here has wrapped your ankle, let¡¯s see if you can walk.¡±


    She stood and walked around like she had never been injured.


    Carl nodded and read her the ¡°You have a right to an ambulance and you are leaving medical care and are now responsible for your health¡± speech and had her sign on the line.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°You have magic ace bandages,¡± he said as we were leaving.


    I laughed. ¡°I think she wanted out of that game.¡±


    ¡°Very astute. You did well, but that wasn¡¯t a pass. You¡¯ll have to call on scene, and figure out if they need to go to the hospital if it¡¯s going to be a pass.¡±


    And from then on, that was my mission. Three passes would be my ticket to being a real member, a full-fledged friend in the eyes of the rest of the EMS crew, a competent medical provider my family would have to respect. All I had to do was pass three calls, get the signatures of three people that were a higher rank than I was and not kill anyone in the process. I was as sure as an American Idol auditionee that I could do it. I knew Ruby had already passed a call: a paper cut (¡°laceration¡±) that she had finished in less than ten minutes. She had been ecstatic, the first of our class to pass a call, which made her our superior. She had started lending advice, free of cost and against our desire, telling us what we should and should not do with patients.


    She had had even less experience with EMS that I had when she joined. And she only joined because I had been going to the information sessions and the barbeque. But John had assured me that I was on the right track the last time we had hung out. Ever since I had recovered from the flu, we had been spending time together, going to get ice cream, watching silly movies featuring dogs trying to save the world and trying to best each other at thumb wrestling (I almost always won). Lily and Carl had started hanging out around the same time, and so had Ruby and Akul. I wasn¡¯t sure why everyone had paired up so well but I had heard of groups of friends doing this before.


    During one of our ¡°dates¡±, John had taken me over to the jukebox at the diner we were eating at and put in some quarters. He asked me to choose my favorite song. I think he was looking for me to choose something romantic. I chose ¡°Pressure¡± by Billy Joel. He laughed and twirled me back to our booth. He took my face in his hand and brushed my hair away from my cheek. I froze, feeling that ever-present fire burning down my neck. I was sure I looked like a tomato. He brought his face closer. His eyes queried mine, trying to gauge if I was okay. And then his lips brushed against mine and fireworks exploded behind my tomato red face.


    I was all smiles. I realized that I had wanted him to kiss me for weeks. I kept trying to focus on what I was doing in the present moment, and couldn¡¯t because the daydreams were crashing in on my thoughts like tidal waves. He started coming over and hanging out in my room. We both always hoped that she would leave so we could be alone. On our fourth try, she finally left, saying she was going to eat waffles with Lily.


    We fell into the pile of blankets in my bed, trying to keep our lips connected as we moved. I ran my hands across his shoulders, pulling him closer.


    He had paused. ¡°Are you on the pill?¡±


    I nodded. One of the few things I could thank my mother for. We pulled off our clothes inch-by-inch, afraid of scaring the other person into running with any sudden movements. Blood began to pump through my body. I pulled him on top of me, hitting my head in the process.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay. I¡¯m okay,¡± I said laughing as we tumbled together.


    I watched as he kissed down my body. I felt like the Queen of the World, the one Carl had talked about.  The one I could be with John. We guided each other, moving and twisting, exploring new territory, trying to make it familiar.


    ¡°Relax,¡± he said, pushing harder against me. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    I smiled and rode a blissful wave, hoping that it would carry me far away.

 Chapter 21

    A few days later, he invited me to Sandy¡¯s twenty-first birthday party. I balked, hoping that I could think of a way to get out of it before we finished the conversation.


    ¡°Everyone is going,¡± he said. Meaning Carl, Akul, Ruby and Lily.


    I accepted, and since it was an ugly sweater party, found a fluffy white sweater that my grandmother had given me several years prior.


    When we walked up to the house, I was seized with the desire to run away. John thought I was just responding to the wind that had blown past and put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his warmth. The door opened and there stood sarcastic girl herself, Sandy. She looked like she had been sucking on a moldy lime. She raised her hand, and gestured us into the house.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± she said, but not like she meant it.


    John had no idea what had just happened. ¡°Happy Birthday, Sandy! Shots, later? I hear you have to get to 21.¡±


    She changed her tune. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll meet you downstairs. We¡¯re just about to start the dancing.¡±


    She closed the door, clipping me with the corner and walking away. I scrambled after John, adamant that I would not be left alone in Sandy¡¯s house. Her house was a combination of classy adult living and college. That is to say, there were rugs. But there were also empty bottles of vodka, rum and tequila. Mainly empty bottles of tequila, which I learned later that night were her favorite shots to do.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get this party started!¡± I heard from the basement as I descended the stairs. I could feel the reverberations in my heart from the bass in the music. Usually, I enjoyed the feeling. It was more intoxicating to me than alcohol. But tonight, it just made me nervous. I felt my stomach drop with the beat.


    I watched as Sandy made the rounds, gesturing towards me and John with her eyes, pretending to be subtle. I watched the crowd begin to inspect me, my clothes, my hair, the way I held myself. I tried to stand my ground, but John had moved to the bench of alcohol to do tequila shots. I ran to Ruby and Akul and hid.


    They were deep in conversation about the latest football game, as Ruby was adept at being a ¡°bro¡±. I knew so little about football, I couldn¡¯t even pretend to know what they were talking about. I watched John and Sandy throw back tequila and bite limes, over and over.


    Carl slid up behind Ruby and myself. ¡°Hello ladies, how are you tonight?¡± He said it like a radio announcer. I wanted to move the dial away from his channel.


    Ruby smiled but it didn¡¯t reach her eyes.


    ¡°Lily thinks it would be fun if we all kissed.¡±


    Akul fled, unable to stand up to Carl¡¯s charismatic pressure even though he didn¡¯t want to participate. I had seen my father exhibit that influence on people before.


    Lily giggled and threw her arms around Carl. He rolled his eyes. I wondered why Lily liked Carl. He was always putting her down.


    ¡°At the same time?¡± I said, still watching Sandy out of the corner of my eye.


    ¡°Of course. Everyone ready? Pucker up and come on in.¡± Carl¡¯s arms guided us into the pentahedron of lips. As we got closer, I noticed the slight beginnings of a mustache on Ruby, the stress pimples on Lily and the nose hair on Carl. I wondered what they were noticing about me. Our lips brushed, with no one except Carl trying to make it a real kiss.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± John¡¯s voice broke the strange reverie.


    Sandy slithered up behind him. ¡°Oh, ignore them, John. It¡¯s just stupid freshman, being themselves. Besides,¡± she said. ¡°You don¡¯t have anything at stake here, do you?¡±


    John walked back to the tequila bench, his shoulder muscles tensing through his shirt. I followed, trying to avoid the broken shot glasses on the floor.


    ¡°John, it wasn¡¯t what it looked like.¡±


    ¡°I bet it was Carl¡¯s idea.¡±


    My silence answered him.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°He knows we¡¯re together.¡± He ended this sentence with another shot. ¡°Let¡¯s dance.¡±


    John pulled me into an open space and began swinging me around, bringing me close to him and then spinning me away. We began crunching the shot glasses beneath out feet. I was not worried about cutting my feet anymore. Cut feet would be the best excuse to leave. No, I was worried about the predator that paced in the background, watching John twirl me around, intoxicated by her tequila. She began whispering to Akul, who rubbed her back, half-heartedly.


    John positioned my arms around his neck. I held on, as he was moving too fast to control my movements. I¡¯m sure I looked like a rag doll.


    Sandy threw her glass at me, although her poor aim sent it at the wall near my head. I let go of John¡¯s neck.


    ¡°What is your problem, Sandy?¡± John said.


    ¡°Get that slut out of my house,¡± she said.


    ¡°What did you just call me?¡± I said.


    ¡°You heard me,¡± she said.


    I felt my hurricane rise in my chest, propelling my anger into a storm. ¡°You talk a big game about being a feminist and supporting women, Sandy. But when things don¡¯t go your way, you forget everything his century has taught you.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck kind of response is that?¡± she said.


    ¡°John is with me now,¡± I said, thankful that I had not joined in on the tequila festivities. ¡°Get the fuck over it.¡±


    Sandy swung at me with a fully formed fist. I stepped to the side like I was in a slow motion picture.


    ¡°I would like to leave now,¡± I said.


    Akul appeared behind me. ¡°We¡¯ll go out the back door.¡±


    The party watched our egress with amusement. I wished I could be so drunk as to not remember this. Because if you don¡¯t remember it, it doesn¡¯t become part of your personality or your past. And who wants Sandy¡¯s shattered glass as part of their personality.


    John and I walked down the street, heading towards my dorm, the closer of our two beds. Well, I walked and supported. John staggered. The tequila shots that he had done with Sandy were all hitting him at the time and he was getting less and less coordinated with each step. We arrived at my dorm and took the elevator up my floor, because I knew my shoulder couldn¡¯t support him up the stairs. He tumbled onto the floor and crawled to the trashcan.


    The poor trashcan. It got more of the same treatment from John as it had received from me. I rubbed his back and smoothed back his hair, trying not to gag at the strong scent of tequila. My fingers slipped through his hair with ease.


    A continuous stream of apologies slipped from his mouth. I shushed him, gave him new trash bags and disposed of the ones he had used. I was happy that I could repay the favor. I had felt indebted to John since I had been sick. He had done something no friend would do, and that was a big deal. I promised him I would return in a few minutes and propped him up against the side of my desk.


    I thought he was going to cry when he said, ¡°Come back soon¡±.


    I sprinted down the stairs to the vending machine and attempted to put the quarters in the slot. My hand shook from the adrenaline of trying to get this Gatorade in as little time as possible. I pressed A8 instead of A9 and was rewarded with a Diet Coke. I kicked the vending machine and bruised my big toe. I swore and punched the vending machine in punishment. I received bruised knuckles in return. I could never get anything right. The world was intent on giving me the opposite of what I needed. I wondered if this was what the rest of my life would be like, asking for a does-no-harm Gatorade, and getting a Diet Coke. I¡¯m sure my mother would have been furious had she seen me with either item.


    When I managed to both insert quarters and press the right button, I was rewarded with two lemon-lime Gatorades and I set off running. I arrived to find him lying on the floor on his back, clutching his stomach. I rolled him immediately on his left side (which I had learned from taking care of the drunk kids on campus) and checked to make sure he was breathing. Then I thought, what if he stops breathing? And that¡¯s when I started hyperventilating. What if he threw up and the vomit occluded his airway? I was in way over my head.


    ¡°John, I¡¯m going to call an ambulance. Okay?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t. They¡¯ll cite me. I¡¯m not 21,¡± John said. ¡°Be okay.¡±


    I wanted to scream. I was not prepared for this situation. I tried to ignore the slur in his voice to do what he had asked. I positioned myself behind him to keep him upright and put a pillow under his head so it wasn¡¯t so uncomfortable on this carpet that I assumed had been installed with vomiting freshman in mind. I had once spilled water and tried to mop it up with a towel. The second the towel touched the carpet it soaked the water up and the carpet wasn¡¯t even wet. John cuddled into the pillow like a hedgehog. I consulted the Internet when he had fallen asleep. How do I know if my drunk friend needs to go to the hospital?


    The Internet provided me with a step-by-step guide to taking care of a drunk friend, signs of alcohol poisoning and an article that had collected the horror stories from the various university¡¯s worst students. The indication of the need to go to the hospital that I latched onto was breathing less than six or eight times every minute. I watched the second hand tick by for a second, and when it hit the thirty mark, I started.


    1, 2, 3, 4, keep going, 5, 6, 7, 8¡­


    Just on the border. Of course he was. I put my headphones on and found the most raucous music I owned to keep me awake. I set an alarm for every hour to check on him in case I fell asleep and I put pillows behind him so he couldn¡¯t roll onto his back. Please, I begged him in my head. Please breathe just a little bit faster.

 Chapter 22

    He twitched in his sleep and whispered ¡°Sandy. Sandy don¡¯t.¡±


    I wished I had left him at her house. What could he be dreaming about?  Maybe her sarcastic charm, but maybe worse.


    That was the longest night of my life. While awake and during catnaps, I was terrorized by images of ambulances and furious authority figures. They were always running, running towards me, running after me. They knew that John was sick and that I hadn¡¯t taken care of him properly and they would run me into the ditch on the side of the road, where I would fall and scrabble around in the dirt and they would point a gun at me and I would wake up, sweating and breathing hard with my neck cramped all the way to one side.


    I was surprised at the way that this affected me. I had been taking care of intoxicated students for months. The only difference I could think of was that, on a call, I had other people to bounce ideas off of. And we usually sent people to the hospital, because the police had already cited them and the hospital would be the most comfortable for them, the perfect hangover cure.


    I woke up to coughing. John had vomited and I had managed to snooze my alarms and had fallen asleep, a feat in and of itself. I ripped off my headphones and pushed John back into the position on his left side to let gravity do its work. He coughed and coughed. I rubbed his back and watched him struggle to breathe. I took a tissue and tried to clear it away from his mouth, my non-squeamish nerves almost expiring. I could have joined a dance troupe or an orchestra. What was I thinking? John fell back to sleep and I reset my alarms so I could continue to check on him.


    I could not fall asleep after that. I kept staring into the darkness emanating from the window and thinking about how easily I could be sucked in. It was silky and rich with oblivion. I wanted to go for a walk, to get lost and never be found. It would protect me from ever having to be seen again. I had faith in the darkness of the window, in a way that I had never had faith in anyone else, my mother, John, even Flint. I loved other people but they never seemed to be able to live up to the expectations that anyone set for them. I think that¡¯s why everyone set their expectations so high. People always fell short but at least they had gotten farther than if they had be shown low expectations.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    When he woke up, he apologized and thanked me and gave me a hug and apologized again. All I wanted was to go to sleep but my mouth betrayed me.


    ¡°So, you and Sandy¡­¡±


    He stared at me, like that was the last thing he had expected me to ask. He must not have remembered the previous night. ¡°Sandy is¡­a friend.¡±


    He hadn¡¯t answered the question. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°I used to like her. She never returned my feelings. So we¡¯re friends. End of story.¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t seem to think so.¡±


    ¡°We hooked up once. Okay, twice.¡±


    I looked at him, willing him to be honest with me.


    ¡°She¡¯s probably just upset that we haven¡¯t been spending as much time with her. And you have to understand, EMS went through a really hard time last semester because of two people in a relationship.¡±


    ¡°Why would EMS have suffered because of a relationship?¡±


    ¡°There was this girl who was willing to do anything to get to the top of the pyramid, and that anything included seducing almost every member of EMS, including myself, and manipulating them so she could be promoted to Supervisor. She assaulted Sandy when Sandy tried to reveal how manipulative she had been.¡±


    My brain attempted to reach through the fog and comprehend that statement. There was so much there to understand. I wished again for the embrace of the darkness from the window and perhaps of sleep.

 Chapter 23

    My phone vibrated, drawing my attention to the little black brick of a phone that brought me information. It was an email. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. And then I opened them again. It was from my advisor. I tried to get to the actual email as fast as I could by scrolling at top speeds and disregarding all the other notifications I would have checked if this was a normal morning. When I arrived at the email, I paused for a second. I wondered if I should wait to open it, as unsolicited emails from advisors were never emails that allowed me to sleep after they had been read.


    I took a deep breath and swallowed my panic. It was Monday. No teacher innocuously emailed over a weekend. She wanted to see how I was doing because she had received my mid-semester grades. She thought I was a joy to have as an advisee and she was worried. Could we set up a time to talk? I responded like the joy she thought I was, thanking her for her concern and agreeing to meet, at her convenience of course. I then threw my phone across the room in a diagonal direction, hoping to put as much space as possible between myself and her reply.


    I attempted to sleep but my worry about her email had been correct. Sleep taunted me, running out of reach when I got close. Giving me an F for effort. The cruelty of the act set me upright, no longer attempting to cover myself in the blanket of unconsciousness. I cast away the little demons racing around my head with their posters. I silenced my alarms, wrapped myself in a robe and picked up my shower caddy. I would wash these demons out of my head and get ready for my test. The door clicked behind me and I was faced with Flint listening to music and studying with another girl on my floor.  I tried to look away before he saw, but the doors were loud and fire proof so it drew his attention.


    ¡°Andi,¡± he said.


    ¡°Flint.¡± I walked away from him and his study buddy, the one Flint had replaced me with.


    In the cubicle showers, I stood still and hoped time would stand with me. The hot water felt divine, burning away the sweaty worry and the fog encasing my brain. I rubbed soap across my face. Maybe I could scrub through to a new me. A me that received good grades. Everyone else seemed to get by in their classes doing the same amount of work or less than I did. If I scrubbed me away, maybe what was left could do well on this test. When I stepped out of the shower, I was pink and there was not a single cell of dead skin on my body. At least I knew I would have a career in spa care if I couldn¡¯t get my grades together. And there was always career EMT. I flinched when it crossed my mind. Career EMT was something that was always on the horizon for the EMTs at college EMS. It was enough money for someone as young as we were, if you worked for a paying service. But we all knew that being a career EMT was difficult. To support more than one person, you had to take on extra jobs with different services, just to make ends meet.


    To get back to my room, I had to pass by Flint and my replacement. I tightened my towel and walked forwards. I kept my head high and only nodded to Flint as I passed, hoping he wouldn¡¯t see how hurt I was. He was packing up his computer and books. I grabbed my door handle and realized I had forgotten my key card. I must have thrown it when I tossed my phone. I checked every part of my caddy. Ruby hadn¡¯t come home that night so she couldn¡¯t open the door from inside.


    ¡°Flint, can I borrow your phone?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    He handed it over. No questions. He didn¡¯t care why I needed it.


    I called Ruby. When she didn¡¯t answer, I left her a message and called dorm services to gasp out my story, hoping they understood the crisis that I was in, because I had no clothes and my test started in 45 minutes. They assured me they would send over a security guard with a key. However, they were experiencing a lot of calls that morning so it might not be right away.


    I ended the call and handed Flint his phone. He looked like he was going to ask a question, but then he followed my replacement out of the room. I thought about running after him, but my pride took hold of my legs. I slid down the wall in front of my room to a seated position and stared at the door that was so very far from my test. I would never be able to get to my test like this. I had failed myself like I was going to fail this class.


    I thought about how, when I was younger, I had loved my towel so much that I had wanted to make it into clothing and spend the day in it. I would spend my after shower time playing dressmaker with my towel, arranging it in toga like formations. When my mom saw me posing in the mirror with my towel, she had made sure I knew how ridiculous that was. It would seem that I had not learned. Here I was, with only my towel as clothing. And I was trapped in a dorm. Who knew that I would want to go to a class so badly that it would reduce me to a puddle on the floor?


    After a time, when the security guard was still absent from the hallway, I sat up. I didn¡¯t need my clothes. I just needed clothes. I shot up to my feet. I started knocking on doors, trying handles, starting from one side of the hallway and working my way down. No one was answering, either because they were asleep or because they weren¡¯t there. I arrived at the last door in my hall, my RA¡¯s door. I knocked, hard, hoping that even if she were asleep, she would wake up.


    She opened the door, rubbing her eyes. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    I hugged her. ¡°Can I have your clothes?¡±


    She raised one eyebrow.


    ¡°I¡¯m locked out and my test starts in 10 minutes. The security guards are terrible.¡±


    She woke up and gestured me in. She threw a pair of university sweatpants and a sweatshirt at me. ¡°Do you need shoes?¡±


    I nodded with the sweatshirt partially tangled over my head. A pair of flip-flops hit my leg. I shoved them on my feet and started running. ¡°Can you get my phone and key card if the security guard gets here?¡±


    ¡°Good luck,¡± my RA called. ¡°Knock ¡®em dead!¡±


    Halfway through my run, I wanted to do just that but to myself. Running in flip-flops is no easy feat. And I was doing it in flip-flops, overlarge sweatpants and the rain. What I was doing would probably be called repeated falling before it was called running. I wanted to slow down every time someone saw me but I forced myself on, hoping I would never see that stranger again and that they would never ask me why I had looked like a pinwheel. I threw the door open to the building my test was in and kept running. The clock on the side of the hall said that I had one minute. I could make it.


    I reached my classrooms hallway and saw someone standing by the door. He was closing the door!


    ¡°Stop! I¡¯m here for the test.¡±


    He continued to close the door. ¡°The test has started. No one gets in late. Professor¡¯s orders.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± I sped up, trying to grab the door before it closed.


    He shut the door. I slowed to a jog and stared at the door.

 Chapter 24

    I felt like I had been hit in the stomach by a column from the Parthenon. In reality, perhaps that would have been more pleasant. At least then, my statistics professor might have taken pity on me. I had the conversation with him in my head. Over and over again. Each time, offering a more compelling argument. Each time, being shot down with a little more hostility.


    I wondered what I was going to tell my father. A minuses aren¡¯t As¡­and neither are Fs? I froze in my spot at the side of the hallway. Like a tongue to a frigid pole, I was stuck here. The test was excruciatingly long and there was nothing to break up the monotony. I began to peel off the ¡°u¡± of university off of the sweatpants. Pick. For that time that I turned in a homework I had spent the weekend on and been greeted with a C. Pick. For the professors who didn¡¯t care that I was sick to the point of throwing up every hour, who counted my absences as unexcused. Pick. For the advisors who didn¡¯t actually care that I was struggling in school. Pick. For not letting me into a test that could have redeemed my grade. A test I would now fail by default. It wasn¡¯t much but it was a bit of payback for the pain that the school was causing me. My RA was not going to be happy about her pants.


    The door opened and someone I met during orientation shut it quietly behind them. ¡°You finished fast, Andi! I didn¡¯t even see you leave.¡±


    I just nodded. Yes. You didn¡¯t see me leave. I didn¡¯t want to admit to this stranger that I had not ever entered the testing room in the first place. I smiled to soften the fact that I had not actually confirmed anything.


    ¡°See you around.¡± She shouldered her backpack and walked by.


    I stared at her retreating backpack and springy step. I tried to will myself into her shoes and hoped I could stay there. I was going to have to talk to my professor, and now that the time had passed, I wasn¡¯t so anxious to get there. Stay in the test forever, I willed the students. Never leave. But they did. They left, first in a weak stream, then in droves. None of the rest of the students saw me. They stepped around me, unconscious of my presence, deep as a sinkhole in their conversations. I felt like a beggar. Please, I thought, bestow your luck upon me.


    But soon they were gone. I stood up, all my muscles fighting to keep me down, near the ground, where it was safe. I opened the door like it was made of fire and poked my head in. The main classroom was blocked by a chalkboard that spanned almost the full length of the room. I crept around it, straightening my clothes when I got to the end and hiding the ripped off U in a pocket.


    He was leaning over the table of tests and folders, straightening them to perfect right angles, a man of numbers until the end. Did he know yet that my test was not among them? The TA that had closed the door on me stood nearby.


    ¡°Professor Nuren?¡± I said.


    He turned at the sound of my voice. ¡°Yes?¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t able to take the test today because I was late. I was late because I got locked out of my room and the security guards didn¡¯t come in time to open the door. I borrowed my RA¡¯s clothes to get here but the TA closed the door right when I got here. This test was supposed to be a game changer for my grades. Can you please let me take the test?¡±


    ¡°I appreciate your situation, but if I made an exception for you, the whole class would be late for their tests. I would start getting cockamamie stories about dead pets, flu-like illnesses, abductions, and near death experiences!¡±


    ¡°But what I told you is true! I wouldn¡¯t tell anyone you let me take it late. I¡¯ll sit down right now and take it. I¡¯m ready.¡±


    ¡°You heard him already. He said no.¡± The TA jumped in.


    I glared at the TA. He was the real cause of all of this. If he had just let me in instead of closing the door, I wouldn¡¯t be here.


    ¡°Unfortunately, he¡¯s right. I can¡¯t let you take the test. Rules are rules.¡±


    I stared at his craggy face to try to find where his humanity had hidden itself. It was apparent from my search that it had indeed shriveled up and died amidst all the equations he had completed.


    ¡°There¡¯s one more test and a final, if you¡¯re really struggling. The final is worth a lot of points.¡±


    Was he trying to redeem himself? I couldn¡¯t stand to be there anymore. I gathered up the sleeves of my RA¡¯s sweatshirt and turned away. As I was leaving, with my presence hidden behind the chalkboard, I heard the TA speak.


    ¡°Did you see what she was wearing?¡± he said.


    ¡°I almost believed her,¡± the professor said. ¡°But what can you do?¡±


    I slammed the door. It¡¯s probably immature of me, but I hope they jumped.


    The walk back to my dorm to return my RA¡¯s clothes was longer than I remembered it being. The buildings slunk past, looking guilty, like my professor should have.  The panels of the sidewalk stretched on for miles and miles. I tried not to step on any cracks. I didn¡¯t need more bad luck to befall anyone. Although if it really did break my mother¡¯s back, it would delay when I would have to tell her. I tried to wipe the thought out of my mind. Unsuccessful and conflicted as to what I should do, I walked on the grass, which poured dew all over the open flip-flops I was wearing. I welcomed the discomfort, seeking in some way to punish myself.


    When I first realized that I ruined everything I touch, I was eight. My parents had just come back from a Native American reservation. They had brought back a necklace for me, which I never wore, and a bow with arrows for my brother. I had been so excited about the bow and arrows that I had asked my brother if I could play with his gift too. When I pulled it back to shoot an arrow, the bow snapped in half. My parents were furious but I stayed in my room for the next three days of my own accord. In that moment, when the bow had snapped, everything had come together. All the little mishaps and mistakes I made, they all added up to who I was. I was someone who ruined things.


    My RA had asked them to block my door open, so when I got there, I walked right in, picked up my phone and climbed into bed, minus my flip-flops. I didn¡¯t think my RA would be looking for her clothes back so soon. And explaining what had just happened was not high on the list of things I wanted to do. I didn¡¯t go to class that day. I figured I had already doomed myself to fail statistics, a few others wouldn¡¯t really matter. One might say, ¡°Andi, just give it a try¡±, but I had tried and been tried. And I was tired.

 Chapter 25

    I came home the next night to Ruby putting on makeup, dressed in a baseball shirt that cut lower than anyone could play in. I threw some clothes in the laundry bag and pretended to straighten up while I watched.


    ¡°Where are you off to?¡± I said, staring at my cluttered desk.


    ¡°Lily and I are going to a baseball game.¡±


    I moved the stapler, last month''s mail and a box of crackers around. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you liked baseball.¡±


    ¡°Did you want to come?¡± She pulled one of the pieces of her hair into a ringlet and then let it fall in an effortless curl.


    ¡°I have a lot of work to do,¡± I said, gesturing at a pile of papers that had been my work but was so long overdue, it didn¡¯t count anymore.


    ¡°Did you ever think that that might be the reason you didn¡¯t get invited? All you do is work and complain. Lily and I just want to have fun. She wants to blow of steam. Carl is acting up again. Besides Akul has been waiting for this game for a month.¡±


    I tried to process the information but my brain couldn¡¯t handle it. A month? How could they have been planning this for a month? Wouldn¡¯t they have said something in front of me? Was everyone mad at me because I hadn¡¯t been fun since I started failing my classes? Akul too?


    I watched Ruby finish her preparations from my desk. I had assumed that Ruby would be one of those fair weather friends when I met her, but it still hurt when I discovered that I would lose her whenever the tide changed. The thing about college is, when you¡¯re a freshman, you¡¯ve only known your friends for a few months. You can¡¯t expect them to stay. You don¡¯t know who they are and they don¡¯t know who you are. How could you know someone after a few months. Some people could. I think the one-year rule is much safer. After a year, even the sociopaths might tire of putting on a show for you and reveal their true colors.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Before Ruby left, she turned and looked me in the eye.  ¡°If you need the stats binder I got from my old high school friend, you can look through it. It¡¯s in my trunk. Just don¡¯t mess everything up.¡±


    She slammed the door.  I resisted the urge to throw my hands up to cover my head in case any of the ceiling tiles decided to fall. I¡¯m sure everyone in the dorm felt the vibrations in their walls. They probably ignored it though; it was something you got used to. I sat there for a millisecond before my curiosity overwhelmed my sense of dignity. I scampered over to her faux-antique, periwinkle trunk and lifted the baskets off the top. I opened the trunk, expecting rays of golden sunshine to come streaming out. Instead, I was confronted with a pink binder overflowing with papers. I slipped it out of its dark abode and spread the papers on the floor. I recognized most of them. They were homeworks, tests and quizzes from our statistics class. Except the date was two years prior. I laughed. No wonder Ruby had been doing so well in Stats.


    I left the binder there and stared at it from my bed for hours. I had a choice. I could use these materials, cheat my way through statistics and maybe pass the class or I could put the binder away and most likely fail. Looking back, I have developed sympathy for students who cheat. I don¡¯t condone it, but I understand it. I was there. I wanted nothing more than to find a way to rationalize how this was okay. And honestly, sometimes I wonder, if I had seen it as more of a possibility that I could pass statistics, if I might have actually taken advantage of the binder. It certainly would have prevented a lot of damage. I closed the binder inch-by-inch and tucked it back in Ruby¡¯s chest.

 Chapter 26

    John and I started spending time together at strange hours, usually framed around the time that normal people slept. Everyone usually assumed that 10 pm to 2 am and 7 am-8 am were off limits because some people were normal, even on a college campus. So those were the times that we were both free. We would wrap our arms around each other and talk about everything and anything that came to mind; the calls we had seen, the latest drama, the possibility of other life in space and the ethics of an artificial super-intelligence.


    ¡°So we shouldn¡¯t build it¡­because it will most likely kill us all,¡± I said, confused as to why people were building these things.


    ¡°But we could solve problems exponentially faster.¡± He traced my hair behind my ear, applying pressure in all the right places.


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t need those problems solved if we were dead. Which we would be.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not.¡± He kissed me, silencing my dark fear of a robot so efficient that it would wipe out its creators to do its job better.  I melted, feeling the usual warmth start in the pit of my stomach.


    I ignored my mother and father¡¯s calls, which were becoming more and more frequent. Eventually though, they called my RA. And my RA has physical access to my location. She bustled in like a disease. She was wearing the sweatpants she had lent me the week before with a more fashionable tank top, that lent a sexy but casual look to her that I knew I had not obtained running to my test.


    ¡°Your parents are freaking out,¡± she said. Astute, I thought. I hadn¡¯t figured that out from the twelve consecutive phone calls I had just received.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call them back. I was just in the middle of something.¡±


    ¡°Then you must have been doing it for a long time. They said they¡¯ve been calling all week. You need to call them now.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate you coming here to tell me this, but it¡¯s honestly none of your business.¡±


    She pouted. ¡°I¡¯m your RA. Your well being is my job.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll call them back later. I haven¡¯t taken a shift in a week and a half and now I¡¯m going to be late.¡± I picked up my jacket and my watch and walked out of my room, checking to see if I had my key before shutting the door.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    When I reached the office, I called and asked to be let in. It was a tradition or a rule, no one knew at this point, that until you were made a responder, you didn¡¯t get a key to the office. You called and someone got up to get you.  I think it was for practical reasons, because of high turnover. Why would you give someone a key if you were just going to ask for it back in a few weeks? It was like in relationships. You had to have been dating for a long time before you were given a key to the other person¡¯s place.


    John let me in. As I entered the building, I thought he was going to say something, but decided against it. In the office, I settled myself in to read the assigned reading. One of my professors had forgotten what it was like to be a student and assigned a hundred and fifty pages of reading, to be completed in two days. Most of the professors here assumed that theirs was the only class the students were taking. John was playing a video game on the other couch in the most subdued way possible. I had never seen someone play video games in such a sad, intending-to-send-a-message manner. I refused to apologize for not communicating with him for the last week. I had to fix this problem or everything was going to fall apart.


    I cracked though. Sad video game playing was new to me and I felt bad that I had upset him.


    ¡°Quiet night, huh?¡± I said, hoping to start a conversation with John.


    ¡°MOTHER FUCKER,¡± the graduate student in the other room screamed. He walked into the room. ¡°Did you really just say that? Has no one taught you anything?¡±


    DOOOH-DOOOOOOOOOOOOOH. The foghorn noise sounded through the radio.


    Obviously, no one had taught me anything. I later learned that you were never supposed to say quiet or slow or bored on a shift. You were just asking for it. That was one of the worst nights of my life, and sometimes I wonder if I really did cause it. Superstition is a slippery one because I¡¯m someone who would rather be safe than sorry. And superstition loves people like me.


    From the radio, we learned that there was a patient in a sorority dorm who had stopped breathing. We didn¡¯t know why at the time and we didn¡¯t know when. I thanked any deity that was listening to have two people who actually knew what they were doing with me.


    ¡°Do you remember how to bag?¡± the graduate student asked me as we leapt into the car. I remembered how to breathe air into someone¡¯s lungs with a bag-valve mask but I had never done it on a real person.


    He flipped on the lights and drove us out of the parking lot at top speeds. I was thankful that it was dark outside so I couldn¡¯t see the trees whipping past. Meanwhile, he was delegating jobs. There wouldn¡¯t be time on scene. John was to get an initial scene assessment, check her pulse and see if she really wasn¡¯t breathing. If she wasn¡¯t, I was to start bagging her every six seconds. The graduate student would talk to the bystanders and figure out what had happened. The two-minute drive felt like two seconds and two hours, such was my anxiety. I kept clenching and unclenching the handle on my jump kit to release some tension. John and the graduate student were on high alert but they didn¡¯t seem to be freaking out. I took a few deep breaths and concentrated on the fact that staying calm was my job at this point.

 Chapter 27

    We arrived and jumped out of the car. We raced up the stairs; every step feeling like it had been put there to slow us down. The lights from the car flashed against my back, urging me forward, reminding me that this was not a drill. We stopped at the door, just for a second and each took a breath. You cannot be out of breath when you arrive on scene. No one will listen to you, regardless of how important what you¡¯re saying is. We burst in, each going to our assigned tasks.


    Is the scene safe? How many patients do we have? What do I think is going on? My teachers¡¯ voices scampered through my head like rats. John checked the girl''s pulse and breathing and motioned that I start breathing for her. I set it up and started to pump oxygen into her body. In between breaths, I watched the other people in the room.  Her friends had hidden nearby in an open room and seemed more scared of the cops than worried about their sister. The cops were standing around the scene, holding their belt buckles in rapt attention. Once in a while, they would report something to station on their radios. They were supposed to be there for our safety, but sometimes I wondered whether it would really work


    ¡°John,¡± I said. ¡°Her arms.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, heroin overdose. Who knows what else she was doing. Her sisters won¡¯t tell us anything.¡± He started to assess her blood pressure, by pulling up her sleeves even more. Her track marks looked like Flinttmas trees, the veins were branches and the entry points the decorations. I almost fainted, but I knew she needed me to keep going.


    I looked away and delivered another breath. ¡°When will the medics be here?


    ¡°Soon enough, I hope. They were co-dispatched with us.¡±


    Another breath, for her and for me. I bagged for what felt like an eternity, counting up to six and then starting over. I hoped she would be able to start over. How many times had she done this? Did her family know? Did they want to know?


    ¡°She¡¯s a good student,¡± someone had said when we walked in. But you could be a good student and do dangerous things. It was meant to justify the situation, to help us understand that she wasn¡¯t just this situation. But what had her grades gotten her. A support system? The desire to exist in her life? She was trying to escape and she was very close to succeeding.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The medics arrived, almost bowling over the police officers and their belt buckles. The first one checked pulse, breathing, saw the track marks and called for the drug box. It was like lightning and I wished that we had been allowed to carry Naloxone, or Narcan as we called it. They prepared the syringe like they were going to give her a flu shot and injected it into her leg. Three, two, one. She took a slow breath.  The medic seemed satisfied and we transferred her to a stretcher. As we walked her to the ambulance with the medics, I asked if she was going to be okay.


    He laughed. ¡°This one¡¯s going to live to shoot up another day. Didn¡¯t want to bring her to completely. She would have been in a lot of pain and pain makes addicts very angry.¡±


    ¡°I wish we had been able to give her Narcan. I was worried you weren¡¯t going to get here in time.¡±


    ¡°We always get here in time¡­except for when we don¡¯t.¡± He smiled. He was used to this craziness.


    I tried to process all of the information. John and the graduate student walked away, debriefing about the impressive acts on the call and how they could improve for next time.


    ¡°Can I be part of the debrief?¡± I said when I caught up to them.


    They weren¡¯t debriefing at that point. They were talking about what the University was going to do about the incident. John was hoping they would make an announcement, encourage people to get help and re-explain their resources. The graduate student was adamant that the University was going to sweep it under the rug. The next morning, he assured us, people were going to go about their business as usual and no one was going to know that anyone had ever done drugs on the University¡¯s campus. Ultimately, the graduate student was correct. The University wanted to cover its legal arse more than it wanted to promote awareness. I¡¯m sure it had been a hard decision to make the first time it had come up. But since then, it had become routine. Keep it on the down low. Call their parents. Give them the semester off.


    Community is a funny word. It means people who have something in common, people who have formed a group. The University was always handing out pamphlets and having workshops about community and helping our community. Community is all in your head though. That girl died a year later, from an overdose. I saw it in the college newsletter. That time, the city paramedics didn¡¯t get to her fast enough. That time, the University talked about it.

 Chapter 28

    I met with my advisor on Monday, in her office, on her terms. She explained that my grades had suffered this semester, and that she was worried about my performance. She tried to be encouraging but she had something like two hundred and fifty advisees and she was tired of doling out the same stale advice and rules.


    ¡°If your grades do not improve, you will be put on probation for a semester, during which you will have to demonstrate a commitment to your academics. If your grades do not improve, you will be asked to take a year off to reconsider your career goals and whether or not the University is the right place for you.¡±


    I assured her I could do it. I probably should have told her how overwhelmed I felt. Maybe she could have helped me. Intervened with my statistics professor. Asked my other professors to allow me a second chance, a fresh start.  But I told her that this was only a minor bump in my journey. I referred her to my grades in high school as proof that I was, indeed, able to handle a heavy course load.  She countered by bringing up my unusually strenuous choice in college activities.


    ¡°I appreciate your help,¡± I said, hoping she would understand the dismissal and allow me to leave. ¡°But I can handle this on my own.¡±


    ¡°Call your parents,¡± she said.


    I rolled my eyes. The University only communicated when it was beneficial to them.


    And my parents never communicated. They arrived on the dreariest of gray mornings. I was huddled under my covers, throwing myself a pity party.


    There was a knock on the door. ¡°Andi, can we come in?¡±


    It was my RA. I didn¡¯t know who else she had with her but I said yes in a weak voice. Maybe she would join my pity party too. She used her universal key and opened the door. I looked into the light that streamed in. And there were my parents, looking just so with their formal business attire. They were too high class to be standing in a dorm and too angry to be standing in the doorway long.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± my mother said, dismissing my RA in such a polite way that my RA didn¡¯t even notice. The door fell shut behind them.


    They were silent. The quiet that often came before a storm, or a tsunami, or death. I pulled my blankets tighter around me. The stepped around Ruby¡¯s workout clothes and the pillows they had bought me at the beginning of the year. They reached my bed. My father, although below me, cut an intimidating figure. My mother looked at my bed, most likely trying to figure out how to scale it. I pulled my body back towards the wall so they could see even less of me. I didn¡¯t want to do this now. Everything I had been avoiding was going to be scrutinized like the life of a celebrity.


    ¡°You must have been busy,¡± my mother said.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to worry,¡± I said.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t heard from you in a month. You didn¡¯t think that would make us worry?¡±


    I tried to think of a good reason. With my parents so close, I couldn¡¯t think of anything that would satisfy them.


    ¡°Answer your father,¡± my mother said.


    Ruby stirred in her bed, shifting her covers infinitesimally. I willed her to stay asleep. If she got involved, everything would get worse.


    He grabbed my ankle and twisted it to the side, pulling my muscles to the point where they would go no further. ¡°Listen to me. You¡¯re not allowed to lie to us. All your mother and I want you to do is succeed.¡±


    I bit my tongue against my yell. I turned my body to compensate for the pain radiating up my calf.


    ¡°Your RA says you¡¯ve been struggling with classes,¡± he said. I tried to adjust where I was sitting so he couldn¡¯t turn my ankle. He twisted it again. ¡°Pay attention to what I¡¯m saying.¡±


    ¡°I have it under control. I¡¯m working really hard. I promise.¡±


    He pulled again and I cried out.


    Ruby shot up in her bed. ¡°Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Andi¡¯s parents! How nice to see you!¡±

 Chapter 29

    My dad let go of my ankle like it was burning steel. I pulled it underneath me where my father couldn¡¯t reach it from the floor.


    ¡°Hello, Ruby,¡± my mother said, always suave despite the jump in her shoulders when she heard Ruby¡¯s voice.


    I mouthed thank you to Ruby when my parent¡¯s backs were turned. She sent me a nod and lay back down.


    ¡°How about we take you out to dinner, sweetie?¡± my mother said. ¡°I heard there¡¯s a wonderful sushi place down the street.¡±


    I shook my head and attempted to think of a good excuse. ¡°I have a lot of homework and Ruby promised to tutor me in statistics tonight.¡±


    My father shot me glares, as if it was my fault that Ruby was in the room. I tried my best to avoid eye contact. My mother tried to guilt me, sighing and saying how much she missed me as they minced towards the door.


    ¡°It was so nice to see you, dear,¡± they said.


    ¡°You too,¡± I mumbled, not wanting to say something false louder.


    When they left, Ruby disentangled herself from her covers. She didn¡¯t ask what that had been about. She just climbed up the side of my bunk bed, a feat my parents would never have been able to accomplish, and hugged me around my comforter. I wondered if this was the new Ruby. Perhaps she really did want to be my friend. The comforter was bulky and difficult to maneuver. I escaped and put my arms around Ruby.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± she said, stroking my hair.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°That was nothing,¡± I said. My father had done way worse.


    ¡°You have to tell someone. What he did was awful.¡±


    My shoulders tensed, ready for the lecture I had always imagined would come when a friend found out. It would be like what I imagined I would tell my mother. ¡°What is happening is wrong and you need to tell someone, do something, try to fix it. College was my way of fixing it. Already, it was better. One encounter every semester was heaven compared to coming home with grades every week and hoping that they would make the cut. Sometimes, if I hadn¡¯t shared my grades in over a week, my father would go through my backpack. I started hanging out with the kids who smoked outside of my school so I would have a lighter for those slips of paper that always slipped me up.


    ¡°That was abuse, Andi.¡± Ruby always got to the point, whether you wanted her to or not.


    As if I didn¡¯t know that. ¡°He¡¯s just worried about me, Ruby. You don¡¯t know the situation.¡±


    She pulled out of our hug and put her hand on my shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll come with you. I can hold your hand.¡±


    I pulled away and her hand dropped from my shoulder. ¡°It won¡¯t help, Ruby. I know. It¡¯s not a big deal.¡±


    ¡°Your mother didn¡¯t say anything. Does she hurt you too?¡±


    My eyes welled up with tears. She had found my weakness, my familial betrayal.  She didn¡¯t understand the situation though. She never would. She had a perfect family and perfect grades. She would ruin it.


    ¡°Leave my mother out of this.¡± I moved away from Ruby and her accusations.


    She crawled down the bed frame and climbed back into her bed. I wondered if she would talk to me again now that she knew about my family.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone, okay?¡± I said.


    She moved her head up and down. It wasn¡¯t a promise, but it was good enough. She understood I didn¡¯t want this circulating the dorm floor, or worse the EMS crew. I covered my head with my comforter. Were my parents going to leave town? Or would I run into them if I tried to leave the dorm? I would have to be aware so they couldn¡¯t ambush me.  They had to go back to work eventually. I resolved to stay in my dorm for the next few days. I had homework and studying I needed to catch up on anyway. Avoiding my parents would be a bonus. And I had an excuse if they did find me and pried it out of me.

 Chapter 30

    The sounds of the conversations and laughter from the social lounges drifted in. I listened to them chat about boys, what teacher was being a hard ass, who was hooking up with who, who was voting for the conservatives in the election and did you hear that Andrew was going to take a year off because his grades were so bad? I tried to tune them out but the banality of their conversation was soothing to me, like waterfalls in the background. They were crushing the rocks beneath them but it was artful the way the words fell, defending at the same time they were attacking.


    I missed Flint. He did his homework on time and washed his dishes and didn¡¯t drink too much. He was stable and good and I wanted him to be my friend. We had to be able to forget what had happened and try again. I combed my hair and put on a fresh pair of clothes, trying my best to look better than a cave troll. I cleared my throat and marched into the hall, enduring the puke green of the halls without cursing the designer for their poor choice in colors. I made it to his door without meeting anyone else and knocked.


    ¡°Come in,¡± he said without asking whom it was.


    I opened the door and was slammed with the smell of weed. I sidestepped through the door and shut it quickly so the smell wouldn¡¯t enter the hallway.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I tiptoed towards him, as if someone might hear my footsteps and realize what they smelled from underneath the dorm door.


    He offered me a joint. As I watched, he lifted it to his lips. I took a deep breath to ready myself and realized that I would get high from being in this room, regardless of whether or not I smoked from his joint. I took it and sat beside him, close enough that he couldn¡¯t ignore me and far enough away that he wouldn¡¯t think I was pushing this too hard. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry about before. About not paying attention to us. It was wrong.¡± I breathed out; thankful that I had said the sentences I practiced, thankful that I hadn¡¯t stammered.


    He nodded and took the joint back. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    I raised one eyebrow.


    ¡°Like what¡¯s the point? You think anything is going to change?¡± he said, lying back on his pillows.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re high. You won¡¯t care in the morning,¡± I said.


    He rolled over on his side, coming closer than I was prepared for. He looked at me like a child trying to explain a complicated concept to his stuffed animal. ¡°You block people out. You keep them at arms length but you still want them to be there when you want them.¡±


    This was not what I had expected, coming in here. I wanted to apologize, be forgiven and have everything go back the way it was. But Flint, always a rebel, had decided it was going to be much bigger than both of us. And the weed was not helping.


    ¡°What does your heart see, Andi?¡±


    ¡°A friend smoking too much pot,¡± I said.


    He lifted his hand and closed my eyelids over my eyes. ¡°Try again.¡±


    I sighed and tried not to focus on his strange behavior. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry. I made a mistake. Can you forgive me?¡±


    I opened one eye to see how he was reacting. His eyes were closed as well and he was just listening, as if no one could reach us to disturb us, like we could go on forever. I relaxed into that feeling, perhaps allowing the smell of pot to calm me, perhaps feeling Flint¡¯s hand on my face like a blessing.


    ¡°I miss you.¡± I put my hand on Flint¡¯s face without opening my eyes, like he had done to mine.


    His face was damp with tears but his eyes remained closed. Why would he want to see what his eyes showed him, if his heart knew so much better?  I guided his head towards my shoulder, so he could rest his mind. He allowed me to move him closer, but changed direction, ending his course just a breath away from my face.


    ¡°What do you see now?¡± he said.

 Chapter 31

    But he didn¡¯t let me answer. His lips brushed mine and I fell into his kiss, much like I had fallen into our friendship, willing but unaware. After an eternity, or perhaps a millisecond, he released me from the kiss, and I saw him. I wished I could be swallowed by that moment.


    The dorm room door shook.


    We looked at each other, like rabbits caught in a floodlight.


    ¡°Seriously, dude.  Again?¡± It was his RA.


    ¡°Go,¡± he said, much more clear-headed than he had been two moments prior.


    I scrabbled around, looking for something that I could use to shield myself from his RA¡¯s fury. I hid behind his roommate¡¯s human sized teddy bear.


    When I think about it, I could have picked a multitude of better hiding spots. The closet, underneath his desk, in the laundry basket, or even underneath a balled up comforter. But instead, I chose to place myself behind a six-foot tall children¡¯s toy, in a room full of the smell of weed. Flint Febreezed the room and opened a window before opening the door for his RA. When he opened the door, his RA was all jokes. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°I told you last time that you had to share next time,¡± the RA said. ¡°The price of smoking in the dorms.¡±


    Flint found a bag and handed it over to his RA. They fist bumped, causing me to wince at how bro-y they were.


    ¡°See ya, bud.¡± His RA left and they door fell shut.


    He moved across the room too fast for me to process. He pulled me towards him and then down to the floor.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said, confused as to what, in specific, I was apologizing for. I had so much to apologize for.


    Flint ran his hands up and down my sides, catching my shirt in the motion. ¡°You keep saying that.¡±


    I explored the ridges of his body, pressing into the softer places with my mouth, coaxing a response. The distance between us disappeared and I felt myself becoming made, and unmade, with each breath. It was instinctual, like we had known each other before. It was a feeling so strong that I felt myself become dizzy and gave myself over to it.


    When we had exhausted ourselves, he carried me over to the bed and let me rest, running his fingers through my hair, untangling the knots of our complexity. I let myself rest there, knowing that the moment was ephemeral and too fragile for me to handle with care.


    He shifted reaching for his water glass. ¡°They say you should drink eight 8-oz glasses a day.¡±


    ¡°I have to go.¡±


    ¡°Of course you do,¡± Flint said.


    I moved to hug him but he leaned back. He gestured to the door. I pulled my clothes back on and followed the lifeline his hand connected to, looking both ways before crossing the border that delineated his room from public domain.

 Chapter 32

    When I was on my next shift, I couldn¡¯t concentrate on my call. It was a simple laceration, an art student who got too tired and cut himself with an Xacto-knife. I asked all the wrong questions and made her sign the form in the wrong places. Finally, the crew chief stepped in, thanked me and remedied everything. He didn¡¯t ask me what was wrong. He just fixed it.


    The debrief would have been painful if I had been paying attention. I was too wrapped up in berating myself for my own mistakes and for how frustrating the police had been that I wasn¡¯t listening to my crew chief. I knew I hadn¡¯t passed. Even when I did really well on calls I didn¡¯t pass. Every crew chief would find a small reason to say that my performance had been too slow, not thorough enough, that I hadn¡¯t asked the questions in the right order. Basically, they were saying that I didn¡¯t do it like they had done it. Many years later, this would become standardized which would speed up the process of advancement. But when I was doing it, we learned the unique styles of everyone who could pass us on a call and we tried to imitate them. That was how you passed a call.


    I became an expert at aloof uncaring calls, for the cynical crew chiefs who were tired of being compassionate towards people who just wanted someone to care about them for a few minutes. I also became an expert at the only-ask-enough-questions-so-that-you-know-where-to-send-them call. The ask-every-possibly-relevant-question call was always the most difficult because there was always something that the impartial observer could remember to ask that you forgot because you were asking all the other questions.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Ruby had passed all three of her calls already and was starting scenarios. They were basically the last tests before you advanced to the next rank.  She was overjoyed, making sure that everyone knew she was going to be the first in our class to rank up. She ignored the fact that she had passed three of the same call with the same crew chief, not the most challenging feat. The impressive part was getting three of the same call with the same crew chief. I started taking more and more duty to compete with her. I wanted to be accepted by them, just as she had been.


    Sandy had been starting rumors that people were going to pass us because they wanted to sleep with us and that any advancement we achieved would be just like what had happened before. We were nothing like the member who had manipulated her way to the top. It left me feeling empty of drive. I knew, no matter what, she would attribute my advancement to the aid of one of the guys in the organization. She called herself a feminist, but she was more the old school feminist, the ¡°I¡¯m special among women because I have a brain¡± type of feminism that just wasn¡¯t relevant anymore. We were at an incredible university. Obviously, we had brains. Why not treat us like normal human beings?

 Chapter 33

    Of course my next call was with John, who I hadn¡¯t seen since I had ended up in Flint¡¯s room. We were fast asleep, as people are wont to be at four a.m. when tones went out. I leapt out of bed, adrenaline coursing through my brain. I felt electric, like I could run a marathon or a country. John got out of bed, without as much energy as I had demonstrated. He was calm and used to calls at odd hours. By the time we got to the car, the adrenaline had worn off and I was ready for sleep again.


    The radio said that it was a concussion call. I quickly ran over the things that I thought I should do for a concussion call. Check for neurological deficits, rapid trauma exam for any other problems, find out how much pain she is in and probably call an ambulance. If she was so bothered by her concussion that she was calling for help at four am, it probably woke her up. And if it woke her up, it was bad.


    ¡°Anything I should know about concussion calls before I go on scene?¡± I said.


    He shook his head. ¡°Just make sure she¡¯s okay.¡±


    Walking down the hall, we watched the room numbers to make sure we hadn¡¯t passed it. When we did, it was clear we had found the patient. She was seated outside of her room and she was holding her head like it might fall off. I introduced myself and we got down to business.


    ¡°We were practicing for the sorority-fraternity musical. During one of the jumps, my partner lost his grip and I fell. I hit my head really badly.¡±


    I asked her how long ago that had occurred, if she could rate the pain on a scale of one to ten and asked John if he could hold her head steady in c-spine.


    ¡°It was a two days ago. It¡¯s just been getting worse since then. I would say it¡¯s a seven?¡±


    I grimaced. That was bad. The people who said ten were usually just pain intolerant and trying to make you think that the pain was really bad. People who said five were usually just uncomfortable. But seven was a normal person¡¯s way of saying it hurt like hell. We checked and released c-spine after going through the rule out questions.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to need an ambulance,¡± I said. ¡°Is it okay if I call an ambulance for you? I think you¡¯re going to need to get this checked out at the hospital.¡±


    She moved her head up, and then down, which seemed like a lot of effort for her. ¡°I just want them to make it stop hurting.¡±


    I completely understood.


    We got her into an ambulance and sent her to the hospital with the paramedics. She was distraught that she might miss her first class but happy that they were finally going to do something about her head.


    As we packed up our bags and left the scene, John leaned down and whispered, ¡°She¡¯s Carl¡¯s dance partner.¡±


    I looked up at him. ¡°Carl dropped her on her head?¡±


    John shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m going to give him so much hell for this. He had no idea how badly he hurt her.¡±


    I tried to smile in acknowledgment but I hadn¡¯t known what to do or think around Carl since I had met him. John was sure that he was the best thing since sliced bread but he reminded me of my father, full of charisma until he got angry. John and Carl had known each other for years. I had known Carl for months.  It was a different perspective.


    When we were back at the office, John led me over to the couch I had been sleeping on. He sat me down and held my hand. ¡°It seems like we haven¡¯t seen each other in a while.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I pulled the blanket around me and let go of his hand. Five thirty in the morning was not when I wanted to have this conversation. The air conditioning was releasing water into the air and my stomach was sick, the way it always felt when I woke up too early and didn¡¯t eat. John looked at me with wide eyes. I wasn¡¯t sure what to say.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been dealing with a lot,¡± I said.


    ¡°Did I do something wrong?¡± he said.


    I shook my head, both to answer his question and clear my fog filled brain. ¡°My life has been spiraling out of control. I didn¡¯t want to bring you down with me. Truth be told, I didn¡¯t have the time to think too hard about it.¡±


    He took my hand again, caressing my knuckles and the back of my hand. You can tell me, his touch seemed to be saying.


    Where do I start? I thought.  I lost my best friend but then when I apologized, he decided to kiss me. I¡¯m not advancing in EMS. No one in EMS wants to spend time with me because of the rumors Sandy is spreading behind my back. My parents beat me when I don¡¯t get good grades.


    ¡°I¡¯m failing out of school,¡± I said.


    He was calm. ¡°How bad?¡±


    It was worse than a monsoon or a hurricane or my brother rubbing his nails against the chalkboard. It was bad because I couldn¡¯t do anything about it. I had caught on too late, done too little.


    ¡°I think they¡¯re going to put me on probation,¡± I said.


    ¡°Okay, we¡¯ve had this happen before. All you have to do is focus all your energy on school next semester and you¡¯ll be fine. The University has strict guidelines but they understand how hard it is. They¡¯ll help.¡±


    ¡°But next semester is when I have to rank up. If I don¡¯t, I¡¯ll get kicked out of EMS.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t get your grades up, you¡¯ll be kicked out of college.¡±


    I swallowed his dose of reality. It stuck in my throat and I began to cough. If I don¡¯t stay on this path, my family will kick me around forever. And John didn¡¯t understand. He made friends within seconds of walking in the door of a party. I bet his family was a walk around the neighborhood, short and easy to understand. He was always exciting, always funny. You always wanted to see what he would do next. Being near him was exhilarating. Trying to be him was exhausting.


    It¡¯s more than that, I wanted to say but my words couldn¡¯t fit past the reality I had swallowed. It was my parents and Ruby and Flint. I didn¡¯t know how to deal with this and I never had.


    John brought me into his arms for a hug. I rested my head on his chest and relaxed. I waited for the release, for the tears to come and wash some of my worry away, but they had dried up. I let the hug wash its healing powers over me.


    ¡°Do you want to have dinner this Friday?¡± he said into my hair.


    ¡°Were you planning on taking it away?¡± I said, smiling.


    He looked at me to figure out if I was joking. ¡°No, like¡­oh.¡± He laughed. ¡°Would you like to have dinner with me this Friday? Was that better?¡±


    I laughed. I had hoped my humor would get me through but I could tell it was weakening.


    I lay down. He pulled the covers over my shoulders and kissed my forehead. I smiled; it was like a family sitcom. Good night, John. Good night, Andi. John made it to his bed and collapsed. In record time, 3.4 seconds, he was asleep and snoring. I stayed awake, thinking, which was something I couldn¡¯t seem to pull the plug on. Maybe I should get a tutor. These concepts seemed designed specifically to confuse me. But my pride reared her perfectly primped head and shut the idea down. How am I going to do this then? I asked her. She didn¡¯t really care but tutors were for people who aren¡¯t smart. We were smart so we didn¡¯t need tutors, she said.


    Two hours later, Sandy woke me up by turning on all the lights in the office and pressing the ON button on the vacuum cleaner. Because eight in the morning is the perfect time for cleaning an office that hasn¡¯t been cleaned in months. John remained asleep. He could sleep through a war, which is what I was ready to start. I closed the door, turned the lights back off and tried to ignore the aggressive whirring coming from the other room. I put a pillow over my head but her presence was infuriating. I couldn¡¯t handle the stupidity of what was happening around me, so I lifted the side of the blanket canopy John had created and woke him up.


    ¡°I¡¯m going off duty,¡± I said. ¡°Sandy¡¯s cleaning.¡±


    ¡°Aw, hell,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll see you Friday.¡±


    I replaced the canopy blanket. I should have made myself a cave, I thought.

 Chapter 34

    I gathered my things in the dark so I had to spend as little time as possible with Sandy. I was just trying to sleep. I inhaled and opened the door, closing it quickly so the vacuum sound wouldn¡¯t carry into what used to be my sanctuary. The second she saw me, she was done cleaning. The vacuum cleaner went off and she put it away.


    ¡°Get any calls last night?¡±


    I let my heavy eyelids fall over my eyes. Everyone knew that Sandy had a radio at home and kept it on every second of every day. She knew we had cleared our call two hours ago.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. I wasn¡¯t going to give her the pleasure of gloating. ¡°Have a great day.¡±


    I walked out the door and ran when I knew the door was closed. She was like a bad cold. As I walked back to my dorm, I watched everyone rushing towards the library. It was almost time for finals week to begin. I wished I could be responsible and follow them, like a trained dog, but I knew that I would act like a volatile sun, and either collapse or explode if I didn¡¯t get at least a few more hours of sleep.


    My phone vibrated and my heart fell. It was early morning. It could only be one person. I considered ignoring it but last time I ignored her calls, she ended up making a trip and bringing my father.


    ¡°Hello, Mother.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°I was trying to figure out when you were coming home for winter break. Have you bought your bus ticket yet?¡±


    I hesitated. I hadn¡¯t expected to confront the subject at that point but I figured I had to say something. ¡°I was thinking of staying here for break, catch up on some school work. Make sure everything is good for the start of next semester.¡±


    The other side was so silent I thought I had lost the connection. ¡°You don¡¯t want to come home.¡±


    ¡°I do, I do. I just thought this might be helpful considering how hard this semester was for me.¡±


    ¡°What you need is to come home. I¡¯ll buy your ticket.¡±


    She hung up, the Queen of Communication. I resolved to look for ways to come back early so I wouldn¡¯t have to spend an entire month sitting in the house with my parent¡¯s expectations. I couldn¡¯t be there when my grades were posted. They would know and they would get it out of me. Sometimes I wondered if my mother knew when I was weak, if she could sense it. How could she have known that I was exhausted and awake early in the morning? If my mother could bottle her predatory sense about weakness, the government would make her a rich woman.


    She didn¡¯t even know when my finals were. She would buy me a ticket and I would be on it. And that¡¯s the way things were.


    I collapsed onto my bed, hoping the soft oblivion would swallow me up and keep me there forever. I loathed the fact that no one on this campus valued sleep. It was a competition to see who had pulled the most all-nighters in a row, to see who was the most overworked, and that they were taking the hardest classes. I had spent four months here and I was exhausted by it. The problem was that while everyone was running around complaining about how much they had to do, they would take on a new activity or commitment in the blink of an eye. I couldn¡¯t tell what was real.

 Chapter 35

    Finals week was always the worst manifestation of the sickness. Everyone would emerge from their dorms and cluster in pods, complaining about how little sleep they had had the night before. I wondered, if they added up all those hours of complaining and slept, instead of complaining, if they might actually get eight hours a night.


    That Friday, John and I ate noodles from a nearby shop. It was on a street that crawled with college students eating cheap take out and delaying dealing with their health problems until thirty years down the road. This shop would specialize the spice level of your food. I chose no spice. I had so much heat in my life, I felt like a pot boiling over. John got a number six, a level hot enough to burn someone who wasn¡¯t used to spice. He told me that he had once eaten a huge lump of wasabi on a dare and that his tolerance for spice had gone way up.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s going on?¡± he said, fishing for the reason I hadn¡¯t seen or spoken to him in weeks.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been really busy. People have been harassing me about school and EMS is really hard. I just want to move forward. And they¡¯re both messing the other up.¡±


    John pulled a cluster of noodles towards his mouth with chopsticks. I followed suit, hoping he would respond.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be honest. I thought you weren¡¯t interested anymore.¡±


    I set my chopsticks down and drank the water, washing my confession down with the noodles. ¡°I don¡¯t think that Ruby and Carl like having me around. And Sandy makes things so much worse when we spend time together.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about Sandy. She¡¯s a friend. She¡¯s been a friend for years.¡±


    I took another gulp of water to swallow my contrary opinion.


    ¡°We can talk about something else if this is upsetting you¡­¡± he said. ¡°Do you have plans for winter break?¡±


    I smiled, wondering if he could have picked something that I would have thought was happy. Of course he thought winter break was a good choice. ¡°I¡¯m going home.¡±


    ¡°So am I!¡± he said, happy we had that in common. ¡°But only for a little bit. I¡¯m staying here for some of it. Holidays are more fun when you have people who want to drink with you.¡±


    I smiled and we talked about nothing, though our mouths moved, for the rest of dinner. He walked me home, past the dimming street lamps and the cavernous arches of the campus. At home, he closed the door by pressing me against it. I was thankful for the darkness and for the fact that John obviously didn¡¯t want to talk. I hadn¡¯t complained and I hadn¡¯t asked for help. Maybe I should have but my pride was like a snake that had swallowed its prey whole at that point. I wasn¡¯t changing my position.


    My test was two days away when I sat down and started studying in earnest. I needed a ninety-five to pass the class. I had almost given up when I calculated that. But instead, I whipped out my past tests and homeworks and pulled up the answer keys for each of them. I worked through every problem, laying my head against the problem when I really wasn¡¯t sure, hoping some of it would enter my brain by intellectual osmosis.  I subsisted on ramen and pop tarts from the vending machine, which I realized later were not brain food and generally left me without energy and still hungry. I took breaks from studying to write the papers and study for the tests in my other classes. They seemed inconsequential compared to the magnitude of effort needed to pass my single statistics class.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Walking into the test room was like entering the stadium for the last football game of the season. Everyone was talking, their voices rising to a fever pitch. I slid into a seat, a suitable distance from the people around me. The sign when we walked in had encouraged at least two seats between students. I wished for at least two miles between me and the test. I had been encouraged to bring two writing utensils. I had brought four pencils and three pens and arrived twenty minutes early.


    The test was what we had expected, a mix of problems we had seen before with different numbers. I worked through them methodically, plugging numbers into formulas and remembering trends, tricks that I had found in the answer keys. The numbers and words were each hurdles for me to overcome and I was determined that no hurdle would stop me. The last question was the only one that I was unsure of. It required the use of a formula that we had been taught two weeks prior and hadn¡¯t used since. Already, most of the people had turned in their tests, gathered their belongings and raced out of the room to celebrate. I tried to keep my focus, pressing my pen hard against the page, to make my focus as laser-like as the dot. I put my best guesses down and kept at it, playing with the formula, trying to learn the way it worked on the spot.


    They called for the tests to be turned in and I put down some last minute scribbles. I hoped the TA grading my test would be generous with their partial credit. I clopped down the stairs with the rest of my class and placed my test in the folder that contained the first two letters of my last name. I was herded out of the room by the energy in the crowd. Out of the room, I let the cool air wash over me and sat on the bench. I used my computer to turn in the three essays that I had written as the rest of the students tumbled over each other like puppies.


    I went to the EMS office to relax, to get out of the jail cell that was my room. Ruby was there, but she and Akul weren¡¯t sitting near each other. They were both buried in their paperwork.


    ¡°Long night?¡± I said.


    They didn¡¯t even look up. ¡°You have no idea,¡± Akul said. ¡°The art students need to learn that eighty hours with no sleep plus power tools does not equal positive outcome.¡±


    I picked a spot on the couch and sunk into in. I felt bad for the art students, for the damage they had caused themselves, for Ruby and Akul, who had landed all the possible paperwork in the middle of finals week, and for myself, because I was going to have a hell of a time waiting for my grades to come in.


    It was pure torture. I would have switched places with any of the art students to not have had to go through the next few days. I checked my email like a flickering light. My phone never left my hand, just in case someone should need to contact me. It was survival of the fastest to respond, the ones who could think on their feet, and I wanted nothing more than to be off my feet. I received the email a few days later, but it was not the email I had been expecting. Expedient. It was my advisor, telling me she had received my grades before they posted them to the student portal. Could I come in for a meeting? I scheduled the meeting for as late in the day as possible. If it was really bad, I knew I could sleep it off and think clearer when I woke up. I couldn¡¯t sleep too much, I had signed up for a shift that night, but even then, I knew I would want something to distract myself.


    That night, I dreamt a sentient metal ball covered in foot long spikes was chasing me. I was running down hill, so the sentient spiked object was gaining ground. I kept running but it was almost too late. I arrived at a cliff. I had only second to react. I jumped and woke up, too afraid to close my eyes again. I tried to keep them open, holding my eyelids back with my hands but my exhaustion was stronger than my fingers and I was teleported back into being stabbed by the spikes.

 Chapter 36

    I spent the day cleaning, trying to regain some control over any part of my life. I organized my desk, threw away extra papers, washed my sheets, vacuumed and picked the random change up off the floor. I opened one of the drawers, and found a pile of folded, lined paper. I picked the pile up and sat among the blankets, still warm from the dryer, which had yet to be folded. I pulled the sides apart and opened them. They were from Flint. I opened each one, remembering how we had passed these notes back and forth during floor meetings. I had shoved them in my backpack and then into a drawer.  I should have been grateful, thankful to a friend who just wanted to spend time together. But had he? The kiss changed things. Now I wasn¡¯t sure where we stood and I started to feel like I was sinking again.


    I felt the same sinking feeling when I was in the office with my advisor when she said ¡°I know you tried.¡± I did. I did I did I did. Was it not enough?


    ¡°You just missed the cutoff for passing statistics and your other grades were C¡¯s and B¡¯s.¡±


    I put my head down on her desk, not caring for decorum or presenting myself well. She knew the worst part of my life. She couldn¡¯t possibly think any less of me. But that wasn¡¯t the worst part.


    ¡°Your GPA is so low that we have to put you on probation for next semester.¡±


    A fly could have easily flown into my mouth. I hadn¡¯t even known that we did that. A flash of panic and I saw white. ¡°Please,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t tell my parents. I can get this under control. I just had a rough start.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not up to me,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s protocol because you¡¯re still a minor. I would get in trouble if I started making exceptions.¡± She paused and started again. ¡°The letter will come about two and a half weeks from now in the mail. If it never got to them, that wouldn¡¯t be my fault.¡±


    I didn¡¯t even get my wish for after that meeting. There was no way I could drift off to oblivion and try to forget that this was happening. I had to go on duty. I had already signed up for it, and to drop it, this late in the day, it would certainly get noticed. Right now, I did not want to be noticed. In fact, I slunk into the office with my head down so no one could catch my eye and talk to me. I went straight to the closet to get my equipment and sat myself down in front of the T.V. It was playing a cartoon that I used to watch with my brother. I hadn¡¯t seen him in forever. I hadn¡¯t spoken to him either. I wasn¡¯t used to having to make an effort to contact him. He had always been there when I wanted to have fun or when I needed a distraction from what was hurting me. He was the best defense against my parents, just because he didn¡¯t seem to care what they did to him.


    Sandy walked in.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯m the supervisor on tonight.¡± She didn¡¯t even look at me.


    This day and night combination has remained in my mind as one of the worst of my life.


    I was already on edge when we heard tones go out. I leapt out of bed, happy to be going anywhere away from Sandy. At least we would have patients and bystanders around us. She couldn¡¯t be that rude to me if there were other people around. But I also couldn¡¯t ask her for help on the call if I needed it. Sandy was a hands-off supervisor to begin with and she certainly wasn¡¯t going to help me. I would have to do this all by myself.


    The dispatch was for an approximately 20 year old female unable to breathe and experiencing pain in her chest. I flipped through possible situations as we ran.  She could be having a heart attack, but she was very young and the common symptoms for women having heart attacks were not usually just chest pain. There was usually shoulder or back pain involved. Unable to breathe sounded bad. That was going to have to be controlled. I had grabbed the oxygen tank with the airways before we started running.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Sandy was gaining ground. She was more than ten feet ahead of me. Granted, she didn¡¯t have an oxygen bag but I felt like she was trying to prove something. I sped up, trying to close the gap. So did she and I wondered why I hadn¡¯t asked her to carry the oxygen bag. ¡°I am more physically fit and therefore more worthy of your boyfriend,¡± each step seemed to pound into the ground. She passed the door for the dorm and I didn¡¯t remind her. She figured it out after a few seconds and followed me in. I tried to slow my breathing and my heart rate to a human rate so I could deal with this situation calmly. Sandy barged on ahead and I decided to make due with the penny-sized amount of air left in my lungs.


    We arrived at the scene and Sandy left me to talk to the police. Granted, that was her job, but I was a probationary member and not exactly overqualified for this call. The patient was my age and seated on a chair in the lobby. She had a friend on each side of her who would take turns hugging her as she sobbed while trying to draw in air at the same time. She punctuated her sobs by grabbing her sides, like they were going to explode.  I introduced myself and she started hyperventilating, breathing faster and crying harder. If anything, this was impressive. I was surprised she hadn¡¯t passed out.


    ¡°Can you put your hands on my shoulders? We¡¯re going to breathe together. Big, deep breaths.¡±


    She lifted her hands to my shoulders and I covered her hands with mine. I breathed in and she followed, six little breaths for my one. ¡°Try again,¡± I said. I felt like the breathing might be good for both of us. She looked how I felt.


    We breathed in together, again and again, until she took only two small breaths for each one of mine. ¡°My chest,¡± she said, clutching her the sides of her rib cage.


    ¡°Sandy, can you get her vitals?¡± I turned to the patient. ¡°Can you tell me what¡¯s going on? Has this ever happened to you before?¡±


    With tears streaming down her face, she explained that she had a panic disorder, that she had gotten up to get herself some hot chocolate while she was studying. She said she was trying to memorize a presentation she had to deliver the next morning at eight a.m. As she finished her sentences, she grabbed her side again. I looked at Sandy and mouthed ¡°medics?¡± She nodded and went outside to talk to the dispatcher and get them sent over. I explained to our patient that we wanted to get her heart checked out, that the pain was probably from breathing in such an irregular way.


    ¡°You¡¯re worried about your final project. I understand that,¡± I said. More than you know, I thought.


    ¡°It¡¯s the difference between passing and failing my class. My teacher hates me.¡± As she said that, her roommate shook her head.


    ¡°She does not hate you. That¡¯s just the way she deals with the class.¡±


    The patient shifted away from her roommate and started breathing faster.


    ¡°Have you thought about getting a tutor? Asking for counseling or help?¡± The mirror near the elevator mocked me as I said those words.


    She shook her head. ¡°I had counseling about a year ago, but the medication should be controlling this.¡± She started sobbing again. I wondered what she would do if I joined her.


    ¡°The ambulance is on its way. They¡¯re going to take a look at your heart and see what¡¯s going on.¡±


    I stepped away and let Sandy talk to the patient for a while. I was too close to the patient¡¯s situation to be objective here. All I wanted was to curl up in a ball and mourn how difficult this was. My self-pity was keeping me from being the right level of optimistic. Her heart problem was probably because of her hyper-fast breathing. I wished one of the treatments I could give to be a hug, but I knew that was unprofessional and Sandy would probably report me, knowing her. I watched as the patient shrank from her cool demeanor. It was cold but the patient was starting to calm down. I wanted to go back in and demonstrate that I was the one who calmed her down, but it was too late. Sandy was in charge now.


    The ambulance and paramedics arrived. Sandy transferred care to them and they assessed the patient¡¯s heart. We stood, watching from the doorway. She¡¯s fine, they proclaimed, the gods of EMS. They advised her to go to sleep and told her that everything would be fine. She handed them her phone, on which she had called her mother and asked them to speak to her. Sandy and I booked it. The mom call was like quicksand, you think that it will only take a few minutes, but you can spend forty-five minutes explaining and reassuring.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t bad,¡± Sandy said. ¡°Your patient interaction was spot on.¡±


    You wouldn¡¯t know it from what followed. I will never know if that was the call that freaked Sandy out about my advancement, but soon after we got back from break, she started proposals forbidding relationships in EMS. Maybe I should have done worse on the call, so she wouldn¡¯t have seen me as a threat. But I like to think that it would have happened anyway, no matter what I did. I tried to make the situation not about me, although I knew it was.

 Chapter 37

    Going home was a nightmare. Packing enough winter clothes to go home for a month was heavy and involved a lot of laundry, which involved a lot of stairs. I would fill up my laundry bag and drag it down six flights of stairs until I reached the laundry room, realize I had forgotten my detergent and trudge back up the stairs, hoping no one would fill up the washing machines before I got back. On my third trip, Flint caught me in the hallway.


    ¡°How are you doing?¡±


    ¡°I should be asking you the same question,¡± I said.


    He pulled the laundry bag strap out of my hands and set it on the floor. He pulled me into his arms and hugged me. He must have known. I hadn¡¯t told him but he was the most perceptive person I had ever met. He didn¡¯t need to see the screen with my grades on it. He didn¡¯t need to hear about how hard EMS was getting. He could see it on my face, chiseled into the bags under my eyes. I was beginning to look like a grandmother.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay,¡± he said.


    I smiled at his clich¨¦ choice of comfort. It felt sincere coming from him, like he had thought about what he wanted to say and had settled on something familiar.


    He left the next day, in the morning, before I had woken up. I went to knock on his door, but his roommate answered, telling me in no uncertain terms that Flint had left at an ungodly hour.


    ¡°Almost woke up the whole dorm with his suitcase,¡± the roommate said.


    I hid my smile so as not to offend the tired roommate.


    I had one more night in the dorm and I chose to spend it alone. I didn¡¯t want to go to the office and joke around with everyone playing video games. I didn¡¯t want to ask John or Ruby to spend time with me. I slipped up to the roof using a key I had borrowed from the office on my last shift and forgotten to return. They were supervisor keys, which gave access to all the nooks and crannies of the campus that we might need to access to get to our patients. If I hadn¡¯t been on EMS, I probably would have called them that night. Confessed everything and asked to see someone, someone who could help me. But instead, I tried to take care of myself. I used my card to get to the roof, slipping between old water heaters and excess construction equipment.  I laid a blanket down on the panels of rock and added myself to the forgotten piles of junk.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The sky was unfettered by clouds that night.  I felt like I could see for miles and I started picking stars to be my favorites of the night. You, and you and you. When I remembered that what I was seeing were just shadows, echoes of what the stars had once been. I stopped collecting them in my mind. Is someone out there? I asked trying to send my brain waves to pierce through the dark curtain. Can anyone hear me? Give me a sign.


    A brick crashed into the rock near my blanket. I shot up. It had been destroyed, crumbled into dust and the wind danced like a victory hurricane amidst the wreckage. For a moment, I was exhilarated, until I realized that I must have nudged the brick with my toe. So much for a sign from above. This was the way it always was. I couldn¡¯t keep myself from breaking things. I picked up the dust and held it in hands shaped for a drink of water. I leaned over the side and blew like it was a wishing flower. The wind lifted the blown powder towards the sky and let it disperse, the powder too weak to stay put together.


    I brushed my hands on my blanket, feeling the soft fibers remove the dust. My hands were chalky, like a gymnast¡¯s. I glanced over the roof and wondered if anyone could make the jump and be graceful about it. I wished I could be light on my feet and strong in my shoulders. I would swing from street lamp to electric pole, escaping into the darkness that enshrouded the night sky. I could land on my toes and slip off without anyone noticing to a place where no one could find me.


    ¡°This is SPARTA!¡± I said, laughing at the sound of my voice.


    I peered over the roof to see if anyone had heard. No one seemed to have heard me. The few smokers that were outside were deep in conversation with each other. The ends of their cigarettes glowed, stars on the ground in their own right. I winced as one stubbed his cigarette out on the garbage can. The stars in the sky didn¡¯t have a choice about when they stopped glowing either, but at least there was a bigger explosion. They waved goodbye, trading the anonymity of the outside with the harsh beacons that lit the dorm. I wish I could have stayed there forever, watching the people go by, breathing in the crisp air. No one could find me here. I didn¡¯t have to answer to anyone or explain anything. The piles of construction materials didn¡¯t have anything to judge me for.


    I stayed up all night, staring at the sky, hoping to imprint the patterns the stars made in my mind. I traced the lines between the stars when I was at home for winter break as I stared at my ceiling. I was a projector and I recreated what I had seen. I wanted to recreate everything I had done this past semester, redo it and discard what didn¡¯t make sense, what I knew now would get me into trouble.

 Chapter 38

    When I arrived home, I dragged my suitcase up the stairs, letting it hit each step so everyone would know I was there. When I reached the top step, I paused, waiting for my brother or someone to come, to say hello, we missed you. I dragged my suitcase, letting the wheels catch on every fiber of the rug and checking behind me. I pulled it down the hall to my room and placed it at the foot of my bed. From there, I caught sight of a slip of paper resting on my pillow. It had been ripped out of a school notebook. Welcome home, it said. I missed your quiet chaos. Don¡¯t let them get to you. I smiled. My little brother hadn¡¯t forgotten that I was coming home. I wondered where he was.


    I folded it and put it in my pocket. Now, I had to deal with my parents.


    ¡°I¡¯m home,¡± I said, hoping that all I would hear back was an echo.


    ¡°Here.¡± It was my mother¡¯s way of summoning. Like marco polo without any of the fun parts.


    I walked towards the kitchen, where her voice had reverberated from. She had seated herself at the head of the table with a cup of tea that looked like it could burn a gloved hand. She sipped from it.


    ¡°How were your finals?¡±


    I avoided my father¡¯s seat, the one across from my mother¡¯s, and sat beside it. ¡°They were hard but I think I did okay. I won¡¯t know my grades until I get back for the semester.¡±


    She took another sip, divining whether I was telling the truth. ¡°Why did you have so much trouble with school this semester? You¡¯ve always been better than that.¡±


    ¡°I had a lot going on. It was a big change¡­I don¡¯t know. I stumbled. I promise it will be okay next semester.¡±


    ¡°Your father is very unhappy with the way you treated us when we visited.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call it visiting,¡± I said.


    She went silent, sipping her tea and letting her eyes roam, touching each corner of the room but never letting them rest on me.


    ¡°You look awful,¡± she said. ¡°You haven¡¯t been sleeping or eating right. You¡¯re gaining weight.¡±


    The reflex to hide myself was still present, even after several months of being away from her. If I could transform into an animal, I would turn into a groundhog and slip into my burrow whenever I felt her critical eye turn upon me. I would un-sew myself from my shadow so she wouldn¡¯t even be able to see that. I¡¯m sure she would have something critical to say about its amorphous shape, or how dark it is, practically Goth. No, she would not even being able to see my shadow. I would snuggle into my burrow and hide until she tired of looking for a verbal punching bag.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    I touched the note in my pocket and let my brother¡¯s advice spill through me, brushing my nerves to calm them down, setting the dial on my blood pressure down a few notches. ¡°Must have been all those college cafeteria meals. They¡¯re big on meat covered in cheese.¡±


    My mother¡¯s eyes flashed. ¡°If you actually cared, you¡¯d have cooked for yourself. Don¡¯t give me these excuses.¡±


    I tried telepathy and sent a mental message to my brother to please, for the love of anything, come home. He didn¡¯t respond because I was neither a groundhog, nor telepathic. I was just a sitter and I was going to sit here and listen to this until my mother was interrupted. If it was my brother, the situation would get better. If it was my father, it would get much, much worse.


    I didn¡¯t have to wait long. Heavy footsteps started up the stairs. A briefcase banging on the wall. I wished I was standing in front of a herd of elephants instead of waiting for my father to ascend the stairs.


    When he arrived in the kitchen, he looked from my mother to me. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell us that girl was in your room?¡±


    ¡°Why did you invade my privacy and break into my room unannounced?¡± I asked. I knew I wasn¡¯t getting out unscathed so I figured I might as well express myself.


    He put his briefcase down with force. I wondered if he had a laptop in there.


    ¡°They told us you were squandering the opportunity we were giving you. Is there a boy involved?¡±


    I breathed in, smelling the lavender spray my mother covered everything with, covered everything so nothing could be exposed. Everything was perfect. I wanted my own spray, a spray of sulfur, so everyone who entered would know that there were rotten eggs here. I was thankful that no one could read my mind. I basked in the fact that my brain was my own, but I took too long and silence after a question was not something my father tolerated.


    ¡°Go to your room! I¡¯ll tell you when you can come out!¡±


    I stood up, an old reflex, hardened by years of practice. I went to my room and sat on my bed. I closed and locked my door. My father¡¯s anger was always sudden and unexpected but he had some ticks, like sending us to our rooms for hours before he cooled down. I had brought home supersized boxes of Clif bars, which I now proceeded to hide in various nooks and crannies around my room. I put some at the bottom of my old stuffed animal chest, some in my sock drawer, under my bed and some behind my favorite books. I stored some in the electrical panel hidden in my closet. I hoped they would be enough to last me through the whole break. But even if they weren¡¯t, they were enough for right now.


    I unpacked and read a magical fantasy book to pass the time. I had read these books from my childhood over and over again because they were the only source of entertainment in my room.  I had my phone now too.  I was almost glad that I was locked in my room, because I didn¡¯t have to interact with my mother and father when they were angry. Perhaps I could find a way to spend my entire vacation, protected, in my room.


    A note slipped under my door made of the same notebook paper I had found on my bed earlier. Hi! It said. I missed you. How long do you have to be in there for? I flipped it over and wrote, I missed you too. You know the drill. I passed the paper under the door again and heard it rustling. Do you need anything? The paper said when it got back. I¡¯ll be okay, I wrote.


    ¡°See you when you¡¯re out of the slammer,¡± he whispered.


    I smiled and rested my head against the door. I imagined him walking away. I knew he would dispose of the paper with a hidden lighter, so our parents wouldn¡¯t find it. He was so much better at it than I ever was.  He was a toreador with a red cape, distracting. He could make things up in an instant, circumventing punishment with well-woven stories. I used silence as a shield, but it was easily shattered into shards by a verbal attack.

 Chapter 39

    My father opened the door, his way of rushing into an apology. The door stuck in the frame, the result of years of expansion during the seasons. ¡°I¡­I need you to forgive me.¡± He was never good at the whole asking thing. ¡°I was just so worried. You¡¯re not doing well and you¡¯ve always done well. I don¡¯t know how to help you.¡±


    I nodded, frozen in place. I was used to the up and down of his moods. I always had to swallow my pride here, because fighting or pushing a point just ended in more anger. The peace would be good for my brother, Sammy, and my mother. I knew it was hard for them when I came home. I had the most trouble with my father.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said.


    ¡°Do you have anything to apologize for?¡± he said.


    I pulled at my eyebrow to keep my control. He wanted me to apologize because he had apologized. I had always wondered if that canceled them out.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not doing as well as I should be in school.¡±


    ¡°And for joining that dumb medical group,¡± he prompted.


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Come. I had your mother make those cookies you like. Butter pecan.¡±


    Those were his favorite cookies. I was more of an almond or chocolate type of girl.


    When I was released from the prison of my room, I started doing household chores to keep my parents from having as much ammunition against me and so I could be the one to check the mail every day. Every morning, before anyone was awake, I would go out and check the mailbox, sifting through it before I arrived in the door to check for a letter from the university. If I could keep them from finding out until I was at least back for next semester, everything would be okay. I was safer at college than I was if they found out here.


    My brother and I started taking walks around our neighborhood and down little side streets nearby. He told me about his hockey team¡¯s latest win, how he wasn¡¯t sure who he was going to ask to the dance and about his favorite new rapper. I listened, rapt in our conversation, in the only environment when I felt like I could relax. And this was supposed to be a break, after all. Being out of the house felt like a weight off of both of our shoulders. We could share things that we couldn¡¯t in our house. The walls had ears, mouths and megaphones. And who couldn¡¯t hear a megaphone.


    The day my brother ran out of the house and into the snow screaming ¡°you¡¯re it¡± was the day it happened. We had both woken up early to get out of the house before our parents woke up. Break was almost over and I had assumed, or hoped, that the letter wouldn¡¯t come while I was here. I ran right past the mailbox after my brother, thinking or not thinking, I¡¯m still not sure. We played tag zigzagging through neighbors¡¯ yards and hiding behind well-manicured bushes. When we arrived home, I checked the mailbox. It was empty. My chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe and easy to panic. I started running for the house. My brother thought it was another game and yelled ¡°race you there!¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    And there it had been. At my seat, the letter from my university, containing all of my grades and my letter of probation, opened with a clean slit from the letter opener, the coldest way of unlocking an envelope.


    ¡°You won,¡± my brother said, bent over, pretending that he was out of breath. His cheeks were pink from the wind rash he had received. He looked up when I didn¡¯t respond. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°I have to go,¡± I said.


    ¡°Where? Why?¡± my brother said.


    I tried not to answer and turned to go. I ran straight into my dad as he appeared around the corner.


    ¡°When were you going to tell us?¡± he said, taking a step forward.


    ¡°Tell you what?¡± My eyes betrayed me and I glanced at the letter in my hand.


    ¡°You think I haven¡¯t noticed you waking up four hours earlier than you used to. Always wanting to go get the mail. We have done nothing but support you and try to foster your potential and all you did is spit in our faces.¡± He took another step forward.


    I stumbled back, tripping over the carpet.


    ¡°That letter says that if you don¡¯t get your grades up, they¡¯re kicking you out.¡±


    ¡°They ask you to take a year off,¡± I blurted, regretting it the second it left my mouth.


    His eyes turned to molten lava and his voice got quiet. I always hated that. It was better when he yelled. ¡°I¡¯m tired of supporting someone so ungrateful.¡± He turned away


    I reached out, sorry that I had kept it from him, sorry I had failed. ¡°I tried. I promise. I really did. I can explain what happened.¡±


    He whirled around, and grabbed my wrist, twisting it in an unnatural direction. White spots flashed before my eyes.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want your excuses. This is not how we raised you.¡± He pulled my wrist. ¡°We will not tolerate this.¡±


    He pulled on my wrist. I tried to slip out of his grip, but he was done. He threw my hand towards me. I took a step away and ended with the wall at my back. He pivoted on his heel and stormed away, probably to yell at my mother for raising such a failure. I turned to look for my brother. He was crouched on the floor in the next room, holding his legs to his chest. I sat beside him and put my arm around his shoulder. His hair had gotten longer, his shoulders broader. He was changing too. But I had changed for the worse and he hadn¡¯t picked a path yet.


    ¡°You¡¯re it,¡± I whispered to him. I placed a kiss on his forehead and I went upstairs to pack.


    I wrote a note before I left, telling them that I was going back to school early. I told them there were special classes for people who stayed for the break and that I wanted to get settled in for the new semester.  I told them not to worry about me, although I could have saved my ink, written something clever instead of writing something untrue. I pulled my Clif bars from their nooks and crannies, knowing I had to find each one or my father would. He would tear my room apart searching for me, seeing if I had found a way to make myself smaller than he made me feel. I gathered everything I could into a suitcase and took it down the stairs, holding it away from anything that it could hit like my life depended on it. I couldn¡¯t wake them up, not now, not ever.


    I stopped at the foot of the steps and gazed up at the angel topping the Christmas tree. She was surrounded by garlands and garlands of illuminated bulbs. She was supposed to be there to protect. But to protect who? The person who put her there? And how could she see to protect through all the lights?

 Chapter 40

    The journey home was cold and empty of people. Wherever people had wanted to end up for the holidays, they had made it there already and they were not leaving. But at one bus station, there was a group of carolers. Their voices didn¡¯t blend, but they were strong and pierced the silence of the bus. I watched them from the window but my breath fogged up the glass. I created more fog on the window and drew hats and beards for the carolers, to keep them warm. The fog disappeared and so did the carolers.


    I rested my head against the window and wondered what would happen when they found my note, if they hadn¡¯t already. My guess was that my brother would hide in his room, afraid of being sent there against his will. My father would rage, pulling apart my bedroom and punching things that he knew were harder than he was. And my mother, she would placate and trim my father¡¯s anger, pruning, helping him grow. I hoped that this time they would stay away from school, that they wouldn¡¯t run into my RA or anyone else who could give them access to me. Ruby had been the only one who figured out anything was wrong. And she wasn¡¯t one to peek her head out of her world of comforters to see what was going on in outer space.


    When I arrived at school, I felt like I could finally relax. The stress of being home for so long had fried everything that made me run like a functioning human being. I needed to reboot before anyone saw me in my collapsed state. I couldn¡¯t get into the dorm building because I wasn¡¯t supposed to be there yet. But I waited for someone to return and then followed her in, smiling, thanking her for holding the door for me. My room key still worked, and I made it there without being seen by anyone I knew. My suitcase took up a place of honor at the foot of my bed and I jumped a foot onto the air conditioner and into my bed.


    I emailed my RA. Hey, do you think it¡¯s okay if I come back early, take some of the classes with the kids who have been here the whole time? She emailed back a few hours later, sure, that was fine, when would I be there. Tomorrow, I wrote. I¡¯ll be there tomorrow.


    In the bathroom the next morning, Ruby was surprised to see me washing my face at the sink.  ¡°How¡¯d you get here?¡±


    ¡°Red-eye travel, a modern innovation,¡± I said.


    She asked me if something was going on. I ignored her and pretended that my face washing was drowning out her voice. She waited and when I was done, asked again.


    ¡°I wanted to be here,¡± I said.


    ¡°It didn¡¯t have something to do with your home life?¡±


    I hated the pc way she said that. Code for your life is messed up. I put my hand down on the rim of the sink to keep myself upright and steady.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± I said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you,¡± she said as she shook her head at me, like I was in trouble. ¡°I¡¯m going to tell the University and let them know what¡¯s going on. There are people who will be able to help you.¡± She reached out to give me a hug.


    I stood back like she was trying to hit me. I had been betrayed, no less from people I thought that I could trust, my friend, who had witnessed one of my vulnerable moments. If this was what she felt like she had to do, I was not going to make it easy. She didn¡¯t have to. There was always a choice. She could have chosen not to and let me figure it out. What she and the University didn¡¯t understand was that everything they could do would make it worse. If they contacted my parents¡­


    ¡°The University, what will they do?¡± I said.


    She shrugged her shoulders. ¡°They will probably get you some counseling. Maybe try and do something about your parents?¡±


    Do something about my parents. As if I hadn¡¯t tried fighting back, running away, explaining myself, staying silent or hiding. I had pulled every trick in the book and nothing had changed. I had tried to use that to convince myself that the pain and the seclusion imposed on me was not my fault, but it was so closely tied to my actions that I had never succeeded. Ruby thought that counseling was going to fix all this, and that was fine, but I didn¡¯t have to go, because at least at college I controlled where I went and with whom.


    And during the days before school, it was like college summer camp, with a dusting of snow. I went to sushi making classes and learned archery, learned kickboxing and played board games. I wished that all of college could be like those days. Everyone was happy and no one was competing. I didn¡¯t feel inferior because of my grades and I played great games of Monopoly. In fact, by the time the new semester started, I almost felt ready to face everything. I had figured out a plan, a list of priorities and I was going to make it work. I would stop hanging out in the office for no reason, and only be there when I was on duty. I would try to patch my relationship with Flint. I would study every free second I had, and my only socialization would be study dates or sessions. I would pass two more calls and go through scenarios to get to the next rank. And then I would stop. I would never rank up again because the process was so awful.


    Of course, when I got back, I received an email from Sandy telling me that I was in a known relationship and that I would not be allowed to advance if the relationship continued. I wondered why no one saw what she was doing. I wondered if she was allowed to do it.


    But at the time, I genuinely thought I could do it, despite all of Sandy¡¯s threats and accusations. I had no idea what the new semester had in store for me. We had reached the dead of winter, the coldest time for trees and humans alike. Everyone receded into themselves and their warm coats, social interaction forgotten in the need to survive from the door of a dorm to the door of a classroom. It was painful to get where you wanted to go. You had to keep your sense of direction covered, or even that would freeze and shatter. The pain would seek out any uncovered part of a body, penetrate and radiate through the rest of the body, making anyone wish they had chosen the other side of the world, anywhere but here. One day, I was in a hurry and I biked to class without my gloves. Five minutes later, I was convinced that I had gotten frostbite. And I did¡­just not the kind that makes your fingers fall off.  Everything was worse when it was cold. Even taking a walk became a fight for survival and I had enough of those going on.

 Chapter 41

    When Flint came back from winter break, I was sitting in the lounge. He had an oversized suitcase in each hand and he was hitting every couch, wall or garbage can that was in his way. He was too wide to do otherwise. I laughed at the sight. It was so Flint of him to do, not care what happened to him or why as long as he get things done the way he wanted to. Taking one suitcase at a time had probably never crossed his mind. I would have thought about everyone  I was disturbing with the noise and the fact that it looked like a tornado had just moved through. In reality, that is what Flint was, a tornado. Watching him carve a path to his room, I had the sudden desire to be pulled into his twister. I jumped in front of his path.


    I threw my arms around him, my Hail Mary pass. ¡°Can we be friends again?¡±


    He didn¡¯t take his hands off the suitcases, so I let go of his neck, seized with the fear that he was going to say no.


    ¡°Are you still in EMS?¡± he said.


    ¡°But I¡¯m trying to get things under control.¡±


    ¡°I really wish you would stop doing it. It¡¯s really hard for me to watch you destroy yourself.¡±


    Flint continued to his room, knocking over an end table and lamp that I ran to catch before he noticed. I thought about running after him, begging him to accept my apologies and let me start over. When he had run past me, he had broken my ability to be without him. I sat back down on the couch and let myself be consumed by daydreams.


    The new semester didn¡¯t start off well. I was immediately scheduled for a ton of duty, which took up any time that I wasn¡¯t in my morning classes. Ruby and Akul had started spending all their time in our dorm room fighting about anything their minds could get their hands on. The University had decided that I needed to see a counselor who asked a lot of uncomfortable questions over her horn-rimmed glasses. Who even wears horn-rimmed glasses anymore? And Sandy, the Queen of making my life hell, was pushing through the executive board a series of rules that would prevent anyone from being in a relationship with someone else in EMS. If she had understood that John was my lifeboat and that I was floating through a tropical storm, maybe she would have lightened up on the forward attack.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    My first session with the psychologist slash counselor didn¡¯t go so well. She asked me a ton of questions about how I was feeling and who my safety net was and what I wanted to talk about. And I felt like I couldn¡¯t give her a straight answer. I couldn¡¯t tell if she was on my side or not and I had become so used to hiding my inner life from anyone outside of the walls of the skin. It didn¡¯t make sense that someone who was appointed by the University who had caused some of my unhappiness would be in charge of making everything okay again.


    ¡°Is there anything I should know?¡± She twisted the cord holding her glasses on her face.


    ¡°I¡¯m really trying,¡± I said. Trying to do what, I didn¡¯t say. I don¡¯t think I knew at that point. I was hitting fastballs with a wild bat, hoping they wouldn¡¯t boomerang back and hit me in the face. I was trying though.


    She smiled with her lips closed. ¡°Thanks for coming in today. I¡¯ll let you know when our next session will be.¡±


    And that was the end of that. I started going to see her once every week or so, depending on how busy she was. She seemed frazzled, all the time. She worked with a few other counselors and they always had someone walking into their offices. I would sit in the waiting room and wonder why they had ended up here. I would think hard about whether it had been something minor, whether they had brought themselves there, or whether they were just like me and everything was tumbling down around their ears. One girl, a waif with thin blonde hair had walked out of one of the counselor¡¯s room¡¯s when I was in the waiting room once. Her eyes were swollen and she was clenching and unclenching her fists as she walked. I recognized her feeling, terrified and helpless. I had wanted to reach out to her, hug her and let it heal us both. But I had been scared that I wasn¡¯t seeing what I was seeing. So I kept my hands in my own zone, and let her walk by, alone.


    John had tried to visit me when I was at one of these sessions. When he asked me where I had been, I had made the mistake of telling him that I had been in my dorm room.


    ¡°Ruby let me in,¡± he said. ¡°You weren¡¯t there.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what time you were talking about then,¡± I said, shoveling ignorance over my lie.


    He brushed it off with a flick of his wrist. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on with you, but I can¡¯t help if I don¡¯t know what it is.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± I said.


    ¡°If it was nothing, you would tell me. And maybe that¡¯s the problem.¡±


    I thought about what he had said the whole night. Was it a problem? Should I be sharing what was going on with me with everyone else? Why was I even doing damage control the wrong way? If I told him what was happening, it would all be real. And I couldn¡¯t fix it if it was too real. I needed to maintain a distance of denial, in case I couldn¡¯t fix it and it all went horribly wrong.

 Chapter 42

    Like with Lily and Carl. They had fallen to fighting over where he put his cup down, her inability to stay quiet for more than a few minutes, his parents, her parents, and the fact that they fought a lot. They were painful to be around because they made no attempt to hide the fact that they were upset at each other. At the drop of a hat, they would be full out screaming at each other, calling each other names and sometimes even physically hurting each other. Ruby and I had started spending hours with her, explaining how unhealthy the relationship was for both of them. ¡°I can¡¯t leave him. He needs me,¡± was her constant rebuttal. ¡°But he hit you,¡± was mine.


    They became the couple to avoid, because being with them in a room was physically dangerous. But Ruby and Akul weren¡¯t doing much better. Their relationship was not physical enough. Akul wasn¡¯t really a sexual guy and he didn¡¯t always want to be intimate. Ruby, on the other hand, felt that sex was a forbidden fruit she had been denied all those years leading up to college. Her quota was backlogged and she wanted to make up for lost time. She had started kicking me out of our room, our code word was banana, as if that was supposed to make my leaving my room like a spy adventure. Her ploys to get Akul to sleep with her were always met with resistance, then reluctant acceptance, and then enjoyment, she told me. I tried to listen like a good friend but I always had trouble looking at Akul after those conversations.


    I told my counselor about my father¡¯s roller coaster anger, because Flint and John both couldn¡¯t know and Ruby would just continue to judge me. Her reaction was measured; nothing seemed to faze her. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that your father has anger issues.¡± She never asked questions. Just repeated what I had said and put a period at the end.


    ¡°That is what he said.¡± I was tired of doing all the speaking. It was like I had an echo in this room.


    ¡°Tell me more about that.¡±


    I almost threw the sand mandala next to me in the air. ¡°That¡¯s it! That¡¯s all there is to it.¡±


    The counselor wasn¡¯t surprised at all. My anger didn¡¯t faze her. I wondered what she had seen. Had anyone actually thrown this mandala? It was awfully convenient to be a coincidence. Was I supposed to throw the mandala? Was it anger therapy? In that case, I thought, I should probably just take up boxing. Then, on top of being able to control my anger, I¡¯d also be able to fight back if someone tried to hurt me. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Let''s talk about your classes then.¡±


    I quieted my inner turmoil and gave her my attention. Classes couldn¡¯t be such an inflammatory topic.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking a Bio class that I really like, and I¡¯m retaking that horrible statistics class. I¡¯ve made it to all of the tests so far though, so that¡¯s a step up from last time.¡±


    I looked at her, waiting for a response. I wanted her to say anything that would make this seem like a normal conversation.


    She looked at me over her glasses. Her eyebrows encouraged me to go on.


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Calculus is giving me trouble though. I haven¡¯t done well on the quizzes and my homework takes me hours to get through.¡±


    ¡°Calculus is giving you trouble,¡± she said.


    I got to my feet. I glanced back at the mandala but thought better of it. ¡°Thank you for your time today. I really have to go.¡±


    I marched myself right into the Student Academic Services building. Climbing up the stairs, I felt like Rocky. I was ready. I was done talking. I was going to do something about my problem, regardless of what horn-rimmed glasses didn¡¯t say. I reached the top of the stairs and put my fist in the air like at the end of Breakfast Club.


    When I walked in, there was another one of those sand farm boxes that you could run your fingers through to keep you calm. I wondered what kind of people came here that they needed that. I walked up to the front desk and discovered that there was no one there. I looked for a bell to ring or another person. I stood there, trying to look like I had just arrived for a few minutes. Then a girl about my age walked out of one of the offices.


    ¡°Oh! How long have you been waiting there? You should have hollered.¡±


    She wanted me to holler? To walk into an academic services building and holler? I almost left right there. But I had stormed out of my counselor¡¯s room. One tantrum was enough for the day.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to sign up for a Calculus tutor please,¡± I said, glancing behind me to see if anyone I knew had walked in.


    ¡°Okay. Let me look that up for you.¡± She spent a long time starting at her computer. ¡°It looks like we¡¯re almost out of timeslots for those.  But I¡¯ll see what I can do. Can you write your name and email on this sheet of paper?¡±


    I did as I was told, playing with the sand box a little. It was more fun than I had assumed it would be.

 Chapter 43

    I went home happy that I had done something about my situation, that I hadn¡¯t left it all up to hard work and Lady Fate.


    When I arrived at my room, Lily and Ruby were in the blanket fort below my bed and Lily was sobbing. She had burrowed into Ruby¡¯s side and was determined to stay there.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I mouthed to Ruby. She rolled her eyes, which meant it was Carl.


    With that, Lily set up a wail. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to dance with other guys. I thought we were just having fun. He danced with other girls.¡±


    Ruby stroked her hair. ¡°He had no right to call you that. Don¡¯t rationalize his actions.¡±


    I asked Ruby if I should go with hand gestures, pointing at the door. She shrugged. I knew the drill. This would probably last for a few hours. I threw my backpack in the corner and joined them in the blanket fort.


    I touched her shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t cry, Lily. He¡¯s not worth even one of your tears.¡±


    Lily removed herself from Ruby¡¯s abdomen and threw herself on my shoulder. ¡°You guys are such good friends. Why are you so nice to me?¡±


    The silence stretched on. We rubbed her back. Neither of us was sure, but we knew we couldn¡¯t let her be alone in this. I smiled. Why had I let myself be alone in all this? No one expected me to be except myself.


    ¡°Because this is what friends do,¡± I said to Lily, kissing the top of her head. ¡°Friends support each other when everything goes wrong.¡±


    Lily giggled. We looked at her, asking with our eyebrows for an explanation.


    ¡°I just got an image of us in a pyramid and me standing on you two holding Carl by his ankle as he begs for mercy.¡±


    Ruby and I laughed. ¡°If he doesn¡¯t apologize when he¡¯s upside down, there¡¯s no hope for him.¡±


    It was a funny image. I tried it later, thinking of my Dad. Would he apologize if he was held upside down? It would certainly reverse his view of the world. But I couldn¡¯t imagine him seeing what he had done as wrong. And in his world, it wasn¡¯t. He was trying to raise us to be the people he had envisioned before we were born. It was always so much easier with possibilities than with reality. You could have it all if it hadn¡¯t happened yet.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    In a burst of frustration, I had asked my counselor why my Dad wasn¡¯t the one sitting in the uncomfortable sofa answering her non-questions.


    She had stared at me over her glasses. ¡°You think your Dad should be the one sitting here.¡±


    It was amazing. They had deprogrammed her ability to answer questions. But then I realized, I did. I thought he should be the one in counseling. She had answered my question without trying to. I already knew why he wasn¡¯t here. None of his actions had ever come back to harm him. He thought he was doing the right thing. I toyed with the idea of bringing that up to him, but I knew that I was residing on thin ice in summer so I kept silent and comforted myself with the idea that he would ultimately be the one to suffer.


    * * *


    I slept well that night, rolling out of bed easily to brush my teeth and wash my face. I exited the bathroom and ran smack into Flint.


    ¡°Hi pupil,¡± he said. I¡¯m about to get my Socrates on.¡±


    I walked away, thinking he was just messing with me. Halfway down the hallway I realized what he was talking about. I ran back.  ¡°You¡¯re my tutor?¡±


    He bowed. ¡°At your service.¡±


    I dropped my washcloth, toothbrush and face wash onto the floor and ran at him. I must have scared him, because he took a step back. I hugged him around his middle, smiling. I was going to work hard and Flint was going to be my Socrates. ¡°Can you tutor me in all my subjects now?¡± I said, releasing him.


    ¡°Not officially, but I can help.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you even know I was in the bathroom?¡± I said.


    ¡°I heard you fall out of bed,¡± he said. ¡°I was in the lounge outside. You walked right by me.¡±


    ¡°I do not fall out of bed.¡± I crossed my arms again.


    He laughed and ruffled my bed head hair. ¡°Go get dressed. I didn¡¯t mean to slow you down. I just wanted you to know.¡±


    It was in that moment that I decided to tell him everything. It would take me longer to do it, but I knew that I could share what was going on with him. I wondered if he knew that, because all the weirdness of the last few months disappeared. It was like we had never stopped being friends. I didn¡¯t want to leave that moment to get dressed, but we had class to go to and meetings to attend.


    In my room, Ruby was tossing and turning, throwing in the occasional curse word. I smiled, it was comforting at this point to hear her, where the first few months had been terrifying. Now, it symbolized that someone was there, angry and ready to get into a fight for no reason. That made me happy.

 Chapter 44

    My days took on a new routine. I would start by studying or doing homework for the unit I was studying in each of my classes. I would go to class and then I would meet Flint, study snacks in hand, for a few hours of what I was doing wrong. My nights were either dedicated to waking up every two hours for EMS calls or to more homework. My grades were steadily improving and Flint and I were developing our old rapport. Every three weeks, I let myself do something fun, like go to a party.


    This time it was a fraternity party that Ruby and Lily had forgotten to put me on the list for. They were both loosely affiliated with sororities at the time, although time and general dissatisfaction would bring them even deeper into the fold. We had gotten past the bouncers with a few smiles and pointing to the list, as if I was an Elizabeth.  They crossed the name off, laughing and exaggerating the sound of my now name. I hoped they would let Elizabeth in when she came. Lily and Ruby dragged me through the door, as they had already pre-gamed and could care less about Elizabeth. Were there consequences for this kind of thing?


    ¡°You deserve it,¡± Ruby said, reading my mind. ¡°You¡¯ve been like a monk in one of those monkeries for so many weeks.¡±


    ¡°Monastery,¡± I muttered, speeding towards the punch bowl in an effort to dim my thoughts as well.


    I downed my first glass without breathing or swallowing more than twice. I reached for another, but paused at the sight of John, dancing in the crowd. I raised the hand with the glass in it to him in greeting. He didn¡¯t wave back and I noticed what was occupying his attention. Rather, who. Sandy was twirling in front of him. She leaned in to touch his shoulder, indicating her possession like a cobra with a dead rabbit. One of them knew I was here. I wished that I had a club.


    But I was basically in one, so instead, I grabbed Lily and we danced. We jumped up and down like middle school to the beats, dancing close, and trying to beat the other with the sexiest moves. Ruby joined us after a few Jell-O shots.


    ¡°You should try them,¡± she yelled over the song¡¯s breakdown.


    I smiled, my head loosely held in place by the muscle control I had left after the punch. We rocked out to every song, mouthing the words with the people we bumped into and waving our hands like lunatics, free at last. The disco started reflecting the rainbow Christmas lights that had been set up around the perimeter of the room. We saw Jacob walk in and immediately immerse himself in a group of fraternity brothers and sisters that were completely plastered. Lily broke off when Carl arrived. I stopped watching her when they stopped dancing. They did everything to extremes, anger and intimacy. Ruby and I leaned on each other so we didn¡¯t fall on the beer-covered floor.


    John began moving through the crowd towards us. I know it was childish, but I guided Ruby by her limp elbow and we migrated to the beer pong table. We picked the team we had seen around before and began using all of the strength in our vocal chords to guide the pong ball into the solo cups. It seemed like it was working too. We were either magical or the other team didn¡¯t like how distracting our voices were. On the winning shot, Ruby screamed like a harpy and ran for the garbage can, spewing chunks of the pizza she and Lily had eaten before the party. In a fraternity, this is a badge of honor. The teams playing pong and any who had witnessed it cheered her on, occasionally walking over and patting her on the back. I pulled her hair back and looked at her pale face.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I picked one of the solo cups up and ran for water. By the time I was back, some random guy had her pressed up against the wall with his hand up her skirt. Her eyes were closed and she looked like the only thing supporting her was his hand. I threw the water from the cup at his face and caught Ruby right before she hit the floor.


    ¡°Crazy bitch,¡± the guy said when he had wiped the water out of his eyes.


    I coaxed Ruby into drinking some of the water that was left and threw her arm around my shoulder.  We shuffled for the door which was where John caught up to us.


    ¡°Let me help,¡± he said, lifting Ruby¡¯s other arm over his shoulder.


    ¡°You¡¯re busy,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve got this.¡± Why had he chosen to intervene now? Five minutes ago would have been great.


    ¡°You won¡¯t be able to get her back to the dorm like this.¡± He moved to pick her up completely.


    I pulled her body towards mine, ignoring the smell of vomit. ¡°If you want to feel needed, pick someone else to help. You can¡¯t fix everything, John.¡±


    He let go and Ruby and I made our way out of the party, baby step by baby step.


    ¡°That was rough,¡± Ruby said when we could hear ourselves think again. I wasn¡¯t sure if she was talking about the party or John. I tried to pat her on the shoulder, but since she was taller than I was and was leaning on my shoulder, reaching for her shoulder made my arm cramp, and I stopped trying to be comforting.


    ¡°How much did you drink tonight?¡± I said, hoping to start some mindless chit-chat to keep from thinking of how far we had to go to get back to the dorm.


    ¡°Two¡­jelloooshots,¡± she said, tripping over a broken piece of the sidewalk.


    That didn¡¯t make any sense. Ruby was hardcore. She prided herself on being able to drink with the boys to an annoying degree. Two shots shouldn¡¯t have even made her drunk. Tipsy, maybe. But this was way farther than either. I didn¡¯t have time to figure it out until later, because Ruby reeled off of my shoulder to the grass and vomited twice more.  A few hours later, still awake, I had given up on figuring out what was wrong with her tolerance. When she woke up the next day, we solved the puzzle pretty quickly. Her first question was: what happened? I explained and she shook her head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember any of that,¡± she said. ¡°I remember going, and dancing a bit. I had a couple Jell-O shots, but then there¡¯s nothing.¡±


    We settled on drugs as the culprit. We had heard about certain fraternities spiking things they thought only the girls would drink.


    ¡°We should have been drinking the beer,¡± I said. ¡°How about you go take a shower?¡±


    While she cleaned herself off, I weighed the pros and cons of reporting this to the police.  On one hand, I wanted the people who had drugged her to suffer the consequences of their actions. On the other hand, she would have to admit to underage drinking to the police. I had heard stories about endless hours of community service, things going on your record and university discipline. I decided to leave it up to her, as it was her life that would be affected. She dismissed it faster than I could explain it to her. It wasn¡¯t worth her record. And besides nothing had happened, she said. I tried to get her to think of what could have happened if I hadn¡¯t been there. Or what could happen to another girl next weekend. She shrugged it off and buried it in the part of her brain that she doesn¡¯t visit often. A few years later, talking to the police, I learned that they had been trying to crack down on cases like that to get evidence so they could stop the perpetrators. Ruby would have hated being evidence. I still wish there was a way I could have convinced her.

 Chapter 45

    The next day, I had a study session with Flint.


    ¡°You look awful,¡± he said.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I plopped myself on the couch next to him. ¡°You¡¯re a real self-esteem booster.¡±


    He raised one eyebrow and waited for me to share.


    ¡°It was a rough weekend. This guy tried to assault Ruby while she was drugged. Then John offered to help but I wouldn¡¯t let him because he was with Sandy,¡± I said.


    Flint picked up my study book and fiddled with the pages. ¡°I guess we should get started, huh? We¡¯re burning daylight.¡±


    At the end of our study session, I offered to buy him a brownie. Whipped cream on the side. He refused and said he had to turn in for the night. I gave him a hug and he ruffled my hair. I wished to freeze time, to stay there. It didn¡¯t work and I trudged back to my room so he could sleep. When I opened my door, I found Ruby and John conversing, she from the top of her bunk bed, he from the floor.


    She looked up when I walked in. ¡°You carried me back here by yourself!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d do it again if I had to,¡± I said speaking to both of them. ¡°I have to finish a problem set.¡±


    John got up to leave. ¡°Andi, can I speak with you outside?¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Ruby laughed, not knowing the situation. ¡°Andi¡¯s in trouble.¡±


    I followed him outside to the hallway.  I leaned against wall and John followed, putting his hand on the wall near my head and shoulder, as if he needed to support himself. It was such a fratty move that I almost just barged through his arm and went back to my homework. But Flint was walking down the hallway from the bathroom at that moment and I felt like doing that would have been even worse than just leaving his arm there. He walked by without a word.


    John noticed how uncomfortable I was and tried to break the tension. ¡°Hey, man,¡± John said and waited for him to leave.  It didn¡¯t work very well. ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry I upset you the other day. Sandy¡¯s a good friend. I don¡¯t want you to think that I jumped from you to her. We were just having fun. She was trying to cheer me up.¡±


    I pushed his arm off the wall and set him off balance. ¡°You know what she¡¯s trying to do in EMS. She hates me. She wasn¡¯t trying to make you feel better. She was trying to make herself feel like she¡¯s winning.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t know her like I do. You and I, we need to be able to work together, for EMS. It¡¯s going to be a really long couple of years if you don¡¯t let me help every once in awhile.¡±


    ¡°Sandy and I don¡¯t get along and EMS is just fine.¡±


    He stopped talking and tried to understand what I was saying. I truly believe that he tried. But he was too used to believing what people said, taking everything at face value. His world was happier and more trusting than mine. He could even say that he understood, but on a deeper level, he couldn¡¯t. Everyone was nice to him because he was charismatic and could keep anyone amused for hours. No one ever had a reason to show him the other side of themselves. He didn¡¯t want to see it. Even after hearing the stories of Carl and Lily, he still refused to see anything wrong with him. ¡°You don¡¯t know him like I do,¡± was always his excuse. Because if you knew the why, it excused the action. I wished I could have believed him.

 Chapter 46

    Flint had canceled our study session for the next night with no explanation. So I decided to drown my sorrows in adrenaline.


    I slid on my tactical pants that my mom had sent me as an apology for her inaction. I focused on the pants to try to change their aura from guilt to rebellion. This shift was going to be about rebellion. I tightened my belt and tied my insecurities down. My plan was to pass a call. That would have made me feel so much better. My crew chief for that night was Carl. As I arrived at the office, Lily stormed out, her face averted so I couldn¡¯t see her tears. That was the first sign to turn back. Carl put his fist through the plaster wall in the equipment closet. That was the second.


    I put a radio on and played with the equipment in the jumpkit. Perhaps I could layer gauze over the hole in the wall and keep it there with medical tape. I could tourniquet Carl¡¯s hand to a pole and keep him from doing more damage. I could put a face mask over my mouth to keep myself from inhaling the toxic atmosphere. I wrapped my radio in an ace bandage, because it must have been broken. We weren¡¯t getting tones.


    I hit it. It was either a coincidence or fate, because it blared out tones at the exact second that my hand collided with the ace wrapping. I leapt to my feet and thanked the universe that I hadn¡¯t tourniqueted Carl¡¯s hand to a pole. I needed him on the calls, regardless of his issues.


    ¡°Move out, crew,¡± Carl said.


    I tried to put everything I knew about him out of my mind. Just follow him, I urged my legs. They reluctantly obeyed.


    ¡°I missed the dispatch,¡± I said. I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted to follow you.


    ¡°It¡¯s a female with stomach pain. She¡¯s in the wellness dorm.¡±


    I ran after him. The wellness dorm wasn¡¯t far, and taking the car wasn¡¯t worth it. We would get there faster by relying on good old fashioned legwork. I fell behind, trailing Carl by thirty feet. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was practice or Darwinism that made the crew chiefs the way they were, but they were consistently faster runners than everyone below them. I tried to close the gap by sprinting. When we reached the door of the dorm, I was gasping, ready to keel over.  That was probably the third sign.


    Carl stood with his legs shoulder width apart, shoulders solid. ¡°Take a second.¡±


    I nodded, afraid I wouldn¡¯t be able to make noises that sounded like words.


    ¡°Ready,¡± he said after five seconds.


    I took another deep breath and said yes, even though I really wanted to sit down for a few minutes so I didn¡¯t look like a sweaty fool when I walked in. We took the elevator up. For that, I forgave Carl for making me move before I was ready.


    At her room, we knocked to request entry.


    ¡°Come in,¡± a voice close to tears said.


    We opened to doors and stepped around the clothes arranged by the wind on the floor. Each had fallen in an inconvenient location. I pulled my gloves on and tried to move some shirts away from the patient. I introduced myself and asked her what was wrong.


    ¡°My stomach. It hurts so bad.¡± She held her stomach like it would fall off if she let go.


    ¡°Carl, can you take vitals?¡± Delegating was good. ¡°I¡¯m going to palpate your stomach. Just tell me if anything hurts.¡±


    She moved her hand away from her stomach, inch-by-inch so I could press on the four quadrants.


    ¡°Ow, ow, ow, ow,¡± she said.


    Apparently, everything hurt. I asked her what she ate: a burger a few hours ago. I assumed it was food related, made an ass out of you and me. I figured that she had gotten food poisoning. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°What do you want to do? Are you worried enough that you want to go to the hospital?¡± I said. ¡°You can go in an ambulance or with a police officer to the...¡±


    ¡°I want to go to the hospital.¡±


    The police officer stepped in. ¡°Has she thrown up within the last hour?¡±


    I scrunched my forehead and nodded, thinking he was about to dispense medical advice.


    ¡°She isn¡¯t coming with me. I just waxed the squad.¡±


    I bit my tongue, hoping I didn¡¯t look like I was having an allergic reaction. The police were very particular about their police cars. I can imagine it would not be pleasant to clean out of a car, but wasn¡¯t driving patients to the hospital part of their job description? I motioned to Carl. ¡°Can you call for an ambulance?


    We waited for half an hour, praying that any second the ambulance would come and end this call. The silence was punctuated by the occasional groan from our patient and the awkward topic of conversation from me.  I heard them clomp down the hallway in their composite boots before I saw them. I stood to the side and tried to get out as much information about the patient as I could before they interrupted me.


    ¡°We have a 19 year old female experiencing extreme abdominal pain¡­¡±


    ¡°When was your last period?¡± the stodgy one said.


    ¡°Last month,¡± she said, looking up from her hands.


    I almost walked out of the room. I had just forgotten the main reason for abdominal pain with women.


    ¡°We¡¯ll transport you to Magee Hospital. They do women¡¯s things¡­and medicine.¡±


    The stodgy paramedic¡¯s partner chuckled. ¡°Alright, sweetie. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    I stood, watching them guide her out by her arm, too shocked by my own misstep to be enraged by his comment. Carl shook his head as he passed me, following the paramedics out of the room. I gathered the supplies we had strewn among the patient¡¯s clothes, packing the stethoscope on top of the blood pressure cuff. I imagined how pathetic I must look to an outsider. All this time and training, how many times had I done this, and I still couldn¡¯t tell menstrual cramps from food poisoning. Carl didn¡¯t even feel the need to debrief me. It was such an unexplainable mistake. And I had done it in front of the city paramedics too.


    I felt a hysterical bubble rise to the top of my chest. I pushed it down, frantically swallowing the cry that threatened to bludgeon the walls I had built. I put the jumpkit over my shoulder, hoping it would serve as a reminder that now was not the time for what was happening. My mother¡¯s voice echoed through the back of my head, coaxing my fear and self-loathing to an acceptable level. Not in public, it said. I breathed more easily. Later, the cry said. I¡¯ll come back later. I thanked my mother, for all her faults; her voice was one of the only things that sent my hurricane feelings away from shore.


    I didn¡¯t stay for the rest of my shift. I apologized to Carl for bailing and stumbled home, wiping away stray tears that leaked down my cheeks. It was dark outside, but I would have to make it through the bright lights of the dorm lobby and the inquiring eyes of the desk attendant before I arrived at a dark safe place for me to release the scream I was hiding. I prepared my usual excuse for if I saw anyone I knew. ¡°Allergies,¡± I would say. ¡°Did you see the pollen today?¡±


    But Ruby was in the room when I arrived. I pretended I needed a pen for homework and paused to collect myself. Flint. Flint¡¯s room was always unlocked. I bolted. Neither he, nor his roommate were in the room. I threw myself onto his bed and covered myself in blankets. It was never going to happen. I was never going to rank up.


    I cried, screaming into his pillow all of the frustration that had come with EMS. I opened my eyes against the pillow and saw only darkness, extending for miles into that soft, cushiony abode my face had found. I wished my mother¡¯s voice hadn¡¯t encouraged me to be alone. My only reprieve from my panic attack were seconds when I though the door was opening. I wanted Flint to walk in, to hold me in his arms and tell me that it was going to be okay. That in four years, none of this would matter. And I would tell him that it mattered to me. That it would always matter to me. That I would be looking at jobs one day and thinking of promotions, when EMS would come to the back of my mind and tell me that I wasn¡¯t good enough to advance through anything.


    Flint came back to his room, and I leapt out of bed and excused myself, hoping he couldn¡¯t see how swollen my eyes had become. I should paint my nails with sparkles, I thought. That would be distracting for other people. I would just wave my hands around and they wouldn¡¯t be able to see me.


    He stared at me, dumbfounded to find someone in his room. ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    I felt it in my bones. He didn¡¯t want me to be there. I ran to my room, to give him space, to give me space. I called Flint and listened as his phone vibrated through the wall. The phone rang and rang and rang. I called him again. No answer. A sick feeling settled its claws into my stomach, barbs that I couldn¡¯t shake loose. Was it because of the hallway before? I wished I had pushed John¡¯s arm away. The wall didn¡¯t need the support.


    I crawled into my bed, moving slowly over the creaky parts so that I wouldn¡¯t wake Ruby.


    ¡°Dammit, motherfucker,¡± she said as I lay down.


    I froze and moved only my head towards her. Was she awake?


    Silence followed. I gradually relaxed into my bed, hoping there were no more surprises. I thanked my bed for not judging me, for always drawing me in.

 Chapter 47

    When I could haul myself out of bed the next morning, I was assaulted with a text from Sandy.


    We need to talk about your behavior on your last shift.


    I considered shipping myself to Canada. Or perhaps Japan.  A remote mountain village where no one could find me.


    But regardless of everything that she was, she was my supervisor. I met her at a coffee shop a few hours later, primed with a pin in my hand in case I started to cry. It started off with her offering to buy me coffee. I turned her down, not wanting to be indebted to her before the conversation.


    ¡°Do you know why you¡¯re here?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Is it because I did poorly on that call?¡±


    Sandy scoffed. I hate people who scoff. I thought about poking her, just a little, with my pin.


    ¡°Your general behavior on shift. Not ranking up, leaving when things go wrong, being too empathetic with that patient. It¡¯s not something that is good for the organization.¡±


    The hundreds of hours I had volunteered, the missed homework assignments and failed tests flashed before my eyes. She had no idea how much I wanted to be good for the organization.


    ¡°It¡¯s probably because you¡¯re too friendly with the other members. You don¡¯t have perspective.¡±


    Perspective was not something that I lacked because of being too friendly with the other members. Being friendly with the other members was what gave me the little perspective I had. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Is this about John?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± she said, looking away.


    ¡°You know, when I started in EMS, I thought you could be a mentor to me. It was a boy¡¯s club, that you seemed to navigate so well.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She moved her coffee cup to the window. ¡°It was a difficult ride.¡±


    ¡°Which is why I don¡¯t understand why you would push people like me around and try to make things harder for them.¡±


    I felt myself floating out of my body, no longer in control of what I wanted to say. My body wanted to let everything come out. I laughed, scaring the table beside us. ¡°I know all about she-who-must-not-be-named and how she manipulated her way up the chain of command. I¡¯m surprised you were able to resist her advances. She sounds like quite the charmer.¡±


    ¡°She slept with John too.¡±


    ¡°John told me.¡±


    She locked eyes with me, trying to intimidate me in some way. I glared back and pressed the pin into my finger, this time to keep myself from walking out and leaving her there with her artisanal coffee.


    She broke contact first.  Staring out the window she said, ¡°I won¡¯t let you rank up. You won¡¯t last. You only have a few more months before you¡¯re brought to the Executive Board for removal.¡±


    I watched her leave, wishing she would stay and we could resolve this. Wishing she would go far away so I wouldn¡¯t have to deal with her. The rest of the coffee shop watched her leave, and then moved their attention to me. I waited a safe amount of time before following her out of that coffee shop.


    As I walked back to my dorm, I wondered if Sandy was right. Maybe medicine wasn¡¯t what I was meant to do. Sure, I loved it, but I wasn¡¯t any good at it. My mom thought doing something easy was the best way. Her thinking was that people would assume you were dumb if you tried something too hard and failed at it. I had fallen right into that problem. Maybe I should have picked something that I excelled at and specialized in that in college.


    I shook my head to clear the doubts. I had to finish this semester. I would never know what would happen if I didn¡¯t at least let it go through the end. Maybe I would tell John about what Sandy said, and maybe she would get in trouble. But then it would have seemed like I was a tattletale in the second grade. I had to suck it up and prove she was wrong.

 Chapter 48

    I practiced drills, rapid trauma exams, vital signs and call progression every night that week. I had fallen into a routine. Class, homework, practice. Wash, dry, fold, repeat. Ruby began to get annoyed with how many times I asked her to lay on the floor so I could practice rapid trauma exams.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to buy you one of those dummies so you can use that instead.¡±


    After that week was over, I passed my first call.


    It was a finger laceration from a student who had been up all night trying to finish a project. When we arrived, she explained the situation with the Exacto knife and gestured towards her finger, which was wrapped in tissue and tape. Before Carl, my crew chief, could do anything, I stepped in. Because she had already wrapped it, it was a bad idea for us to break the clot and rewrap it. I gave her the necessary materials, gauze and medical tape, to wrap it again later that night. I took down her information and recommended she call us again if she felt worse. When I handed over my clipboard, I was flying. When we left the scene, he told me I passed and I gave him a huge hug. It had been an easy call but a pass is a pass.


    In my dorm, I walked the halls without direction, humming to myself. When I went around the corner, I saw Flint. I tried to turn away, but he was too fast.


    ¡°Andi.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think we should talk about you and that guy?¡±


    I wished my reflexes had been faster and I had been able to avoid this conversation. ¡°John¡¯s a friend. In EMS with me.¡±


    Flint rolled his eyes. ¡°Is he the reason you¡¯ve been ignoring everything to do EMS?¡±


    I tried to turn myself into a houseplant, to no avail.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to help you fix everything unless you tell me what¡¯s going on.¡±


    Plan Z was telling the truth. I went with Plan G. ¡°He¡¯s one of the higher officers in EMS. He was just trying to tell me about the call we had the other day. He¡¯s familiar with all the girls in EMS.¡±


    Flint grunted. I couldn¡¯t tell if he was convinced or not.


    ¡°Is that why you missed our tutoring session?¡± I said.


    ¡°I was busy,¡± he said, playing with a bandana he had wrapped around his wrist.


    Liar, I thought. But I couldn¡¯t say that because I was a liar too.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°Grades don¡¯t make themselves.¡±


    Back in my room, Ruby noticed my agitation. Although, not noticing my pacing would have been like not noticing an avalanche pouring down on her head. She slammed her pencil down.


    ¡°What!¡± she said, meaning ¡°stop¡±.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I said.


    ¡°No. If you¡¯re going to use friction to burn a line in our carpet, at least tell me why.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Sandy.¡±


    ¡°Crazy bitch,¡± Ruby muttered. If there was one thing Ruby and I agreed on, it was our hatred of Sandy and her vendetta against us and Lily for dating EMS guys.


    ¡°She took me to coffee and told me she was going to keep me from advancing,¡± I said.


    Ruby smiled. ¡°At least I don¡¯t have to worry about that.¡±


    I felt like I was going to explode, the heat in my feet from the friction traveled to my head and lit up my cheeks. ¡°I guess you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s just jealous because you dated John. Carl says he was her puppy dog for forever. She just misses having him as a slave.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not even together anymore. We broke it off so I could focus on school. Shouldn¡¯t she lay off?¡±


    Ruby laughed. ¡°This is probably revenge. She¡¯s bitter about the past and she wants to eliminate you.¡±


    ¡°And you,¡± I reminded her.


    ¡°Not so much anymore, it seems like.¡±


    Of course she had separated herself from the only thing we agreed on. I rolled my eyes. Again, alone.

 Chapter 49

    The next day, my mother called. I answered the phone with a curt ¡°what?¡± There was silence on the other end, like she didn¡¯t know how to begin a conversation.


    ¡°Are you eating well?¡± she said. ¡°Fruits and vegetables? Please tell me you¡¯re not skipping breakfast.¡±


    ¡°Why do you care all of the sudden?¡±


    She hadn¡¯t cared when my father twisted my ankle on their surprise visit, or when I spent 48 hours in my room without food, and she especially had not cared when my father threatened to disown me and stop paying for college. I had always promised myself that after college, I wouldn¡¯t be beholden to him anymore, but that I had to get through college before I could break away. My father had jumped the trigger or whatever the expression was.


    ¡°You know I¡¯m trying,¡± she said. ¡°Your father is very¡­stubborn. He doesn¡¯t understand that it¡¯s going too far.¡±


    ¡°How is Sammy?¡±


    ¡°You know your father¡¯s trying to recover.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    My father had been trying to recover for years now. It seemed to be working where my brother was concerned but he always relapsed when he saw me. My mother had been conditioned so well, he didn¡¯t need to hurt her anymore. She just listened and did as she was told, probably rationalizing it as something she wanted to do.


    ¡°Can I talk to him?¡±


    ¡°You never answered my question.¡±


    ¡°Mom, I¡¯m fine. I¡¯ll make it through this without your help. I may have had good grades in high school, but I¡¯m happier here, without you and Dad.¡±


    ¡°Your father is sorry for what he¡¯s done.¡±


    I hung up. I knew it wasn¡¯t the mature thing to do but I did it anyway. It wasn¡¯t her job to make excuses for my father. The only reason he tried to control his anger issues was because my mother, in a moment of rare strength had threatened to separate from him. Over the years, it seemed the threat had worn thin and he knew that she had used up her supply of courage for the decade. He had gone back to his ways, quieter this time, less obvious.


    She called one more time, but I didn¡¯t pick up. She had been given her chance. I couldn¡¯t listen to the lies anymore. I had to focus on the here and now. I had wanted to tell her that I was doing better, that my quiz grades were improving, that I was spending more time on my homework. But I almost felt like those grades weren¡¯t coming from me. They were coming from a fear of my father. They weren¡¯t my accomplishments to share. They were his; he had made me do exactly what he wanted me to. The world was his play-doh.

 Chapter 50

    February


    A few days later, I went to my first executive board meeting. Ruby and I were the only two non-crew chiefs present and they seemed surprised their sanctuary had been infiltrated. It was my idea to come, but of course Ruby wanted to tag along. They started the meeting with updates from what they had done that week. ¡°Restocked the car bags and got us new oxygen tanks,¡± John said.  Carl jumped in with ¡°Spoke to the police sergeant yesterday. He wants us to start using Code 1, 2, or 3 instead of Priority 1, 2, or 3.¡±


    Then, Sandy stood up to give her report. ¡°The probationary members seem to be moving to responder fairly quickly. Anker is halfway through scenarios if anyone wants to help out.¡± She sat down. ¡°He¡¯d be farther along if he stopped having mental breakdowns every time he did something wrong.¡±


    The thought hit me from above. I could run for Sandy¡¯s position at the end of the year. This way, I would be able to actually help the probationary members move through the ranks without being as condescending as Sandy. She spent the rest of the meeting on her phone, occasionally giggling at something funny she saw on the Internet. I spent the meeting trying to remember where the job description for Training Officer was. We had so many types of rules, bylaws, SOPs, SOGs that sometimes, things got lost in different binders.


    I found it under a stack of refusal forms on the supply closet desk. ¡°Position requirements: Responder level¡± was the first thing that caught my attention. It seemed like Training Officer ran scenarios, made sure medical lectures were done and tried to make sure that people ranked up quickly. My first thought was ¡°oh, by threatening me she was going against her job.¡± My second thought was ¡°I can do this better.¡± Now I knew that Responder had to happen before the Executive Board elections.


    Of course that was the time period in which I stopped getting calls. I became what is known as a white cloud. Someone who, when they are on duty, prevents all calls from happening with their mere presence. Black clouds, of course, are storm clouds and when it rains it pours. But I knew I could prove myself in other ways. I started participating in lots of drills and trying to prove to everyone that I was ready to be a responder. Sitting in the office waiting for calls that never seemed to happen was excruciating and I would have given anything except my newly higher grades to change it.


    Flint had been able to help me study into higher grades. I don¡¯t know what I would have done without him. His explanations of concepts were always so much clearer than that of my professors, who seemed to take pride in how confusing they could be. The more questions the students had to ask, the better, was probably their motto. I¡¯m all for questions, but it would have taken me weeks to figure out what they had said in a fifteen-minute time frame.


    I don¡¯t think he believed me about John but he kept quiet, accepting it for now. Occasionally, when my phone buzzed, he would look concerned but I always made sure to tilt it towards him so he could see that it was Ruby or Lily. If he stopped tutoring me, I was completely screwed. I didn¡¯t want him to stop tutoring me because of something stupid that had happened in the past. He wouldn¡¯t see it as past. He would see it as a long-awaited trial on my many mistakes. I changed John¡¯s name in my phone to Lily and used past conversation to figure out whom I was actually talking to. I fell deeper and deeper into the hole that lies create. Every time I tried to dig myself out my hands caught on the barbed wire of my untruths and I slid backwards, deeper, darker. As I slid, I considered telling him the truth, but it was far too late for that.


    * * *The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Meanwhile, Ruby and Lily had started fighting. Ruby was fed up with Lily¡¯s whining about Carl and not doing anything about it. She was fed up with me too, for always being the voice of the glass half full. But Lily was the more visible target. Lily Pulitzer is much more attractive to an angry bull than light gray pullovers. They started snarking about each other¡¯s actions during the times when we were together. Lily was furious that she was no longer receiving the unconditional support she wanted from Ruby. Ruby was furious that she had to continue to provide unconditional support for her friend to remain in an unhealthy, if not abusive, relationship. I thought they were both right, and wrong, so I stayed out of it. A bull can certainly go after something gray if provoked properly.


    ¡°Whatever you think looks good,¡± Ruby would say to Lily when she came in to ask our opinion on a dress.


    Lily looked to me. I pretended I was sleeping. Or dead.


    They reminded me of my parents in their early days, which is weird. It¡¯s weird when your friends remind you of your parents. They fought like them though. Each one attempting to get the upper hand at any cost, in the moment, not thinking about the damage they were ripping into each other¡¯s psyches. Sometimes, I even watched them from above, the safety of my aerial distance keeping me from getting caught in the shrapnel ricocheting around my miniscule dorm room. They even started their accusations the way my parents used to, before my mother went silent. ¡°You never, I always¡± and its sister ¡°I never, you always.¡± They were the songs of broken promises and expectations unfulfilled. And I was stuck in the concert from hell.


    When my dad relapsed on his anger management training the second time, I tried to convince my mom to leave him.


    ¡°He¡¯s dangerous,¡± I had said. ¡°Think of Sam.¡± I had been afraid to even put my name in the sentence because I had already lost hope that I would escape unscathed.


    ¡°He needs our support, now more than ever,¡± my mother said.


    Loyalty, my mother¡¯s shining virtue and Achilles heel. That¡¯s the way it always goes though. Anything to an extreme is bad. I long ago accepted that I took everything too far. But after my mother put her foot down the first time, I thought she would have been able to stay steady ahead, to put down her fighting colors only when the war had truly been won. She had surrendered prematurely and I tried not to be angry with her. I knew it was hard fighting a war while living with the enemy.


    I messaged Sam. ¡°How¡¯s school?¡±


    I found myself cleaning the room, tidying up my bed, the dirty dishes, and the carpet that had almost never been vacuumed. I was going to make sure I didn¡¯t need my parents. They weren¡¯t reliable or helpful. I would make sure to get internships and school trips during my breaks. I would find some way to see my brother without them. In three years, he would be in college too. Then we would be able to meet and talk without the fear of our parents.


    Sometimes I wondered whether Sam saw the situation the same way I did. Our mother and I had suffered the brunt of the attack when my father had revealed his true colors. He was too young at the time to be a target and things had cleared up enough by the time he was old enough that he never went through the same things I did. He was raised by the same ridiculously high expectations that I was raised by, but they were different. I was expected to wear nail polish at all times. If he didn¡¯t do well at little league soccer, he spent the rest of the night in his room. He also had a habit of disappearing. No one was ever able to find him when he decided to hide. I always knew that he had a secret cubby hole that he went to every time, but I never asked, afraid the walls would overhear us and the secret would be broken.


    I always believed he was the best example of the second child. He had learned from every mistake I made, sidestepping it like a ballerina and performing for the crowd. He had learned from when I tried to hide myself under the bed sheets that the best place to be at that time was somewhere they could not actually find him. He had learned that grades were paramount and trumped spending time with friends. He had learned that Dad in a mood was something to be avoided, while I always missed the signs and ran right into it. He was my slightly magical, better younger brother. I was glad he could be spared my experiences.

 Chapter 51

    My therapist sent me an email. ¡°This is a final notification that you have missed 3-4 sessions. Please notify me as to why, or I will have to give your spot to another student.¡± A surge of jealousy coursed through me. She would give my spot to another student? I felt like a child with a plastic dinosaur: ¡°But it¡¯s miiiine.¡±


    I shot her a quick response. ¡°I will be at the next session. See you in a week.¡± I hoped she accepted that as enough confirmation that I was still alive.


    I hadn¡¯t been going because it had not been helping. Her thin questions and inability to make a statement had made me want to pull my hair out, of which there was less and less. The stress of everything was making my hair fall out. I would wake up with it strewn around my pillow every morning. Collecting it and throwing it away always made me sad, like I was throwing away part of myself, which I knew was weird. But it would have been weirder if I had kept it.


    My father had been texting me as well, asking how my grades were though, not how I was doing. I ignored the texts as usual, not caring about the consequences at the moment. He¡¯d have to drive out here to do anything to hurt me and that would mean taking off work, which would inconvenience him. Let him be inconvenienced, I thought.


    I grabbed my coat, left my dorm and went to go sit on the wall overlooking a cavernous hole that I was sure if I ever wanted to get rid of something, I could throw it down there and not even the government would be able to find it. I admired the buildings around me for how flat their sides were, how perfectly chiseled, always ready to be viewed and admired. I wondered what I would look like if I were a building. Would I be a skyscraper, a ranch house without a basement, an academic building?


    John walked over, interrupting my reverie. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to see you here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s mutual,¡± I said.


    ¡°Look,¡± he said. ¡°I know you hate me now. I don¡¯t know why but I miss you a lot. I thought we had a good thing going.¡±


    I tried to tilt my face down, worried that it was betraying me. We sat in silence for a few minutes, looking away when other stragglers walked by the wall, pretending we were having a casual pause.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Can I take you for a ride? I know the view from this kidnappers wall is beautiful but I think you like the city skyline more.¡±


    You know those turning points? This is one of them. I don¡¯t know what I should have said. All I know is what I did say. I said yes, I followed him to his car and we drove. His car smelled like leather and musk, a true man¡¯s man car. He tried really hard to keep up some chatter in the background. Turned the radio on low so it wouldn¡¯t be so smotheringly quiet.


    ¡°So, how is everything?¡± he started.


    ¡°Can¡¯t complain,¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been good too,¡± he said.


    ¡°How¡¯s Sandy?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s fine. How many times do I have to tell you I¡¯m not interested in her?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s interested in you.¡±


    ¡°And six months ago, I would have been overjoyed to hear that. But I¡¯m interested in you now,¡± John said forcefully.


    I should have hated that. But instead, I melted. Why was I being so awful? Couldn¡¯t I just be with him? He seemed like he cared so much for me and for what I was trying to do. All he needed was honesty. My lie was staring me in the face. Nose to nose, it refused to break eye contact.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± John said


    I couldn¡¯t choke it out. I wouldn¡¯t. It would ruin everything he had just said. The reason he was saying these things was because he didn¡¯t know. But I couldn¡¯t say them back unless I first pulled my lie out of the cue.


    ¡°I have to tell you something,¡± I said.


    ¡°Fire away,¡± he said. When I paused, he said, ¡°Nothing you say can change how I feel about you.¡±


    I began to laugh hysterically, uncontrollably in my head. He had no idea that I was actually a horrible person.


    ¡°I¡­¡± I started. ¡°When¡­¡±


    ¡°Spit it out, Andi.¡±


    I pulled my last dregs of self-control to my head. This certainly wasn¡¯t courage. This was pure, ironclad force.


    ¡°When we were together,¡± I said. ¡°I was¡­with someone else during that time. I never told you and I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I covered my face with my hands, expecting my hair to be pulled or a hand to clamp down on my shoulder. I didn¡¯t expect the car to speed up.


    ¡°Who was it?¡± he said, anger trickling into his voice the way the courage had trickled into my life.


    ¡°It was Flint.¡±


    We sped up, John blind to the steepness of the curve we were taking. He scraped the side, the railings trying their very best to hold us in. I held on to the door handle in a futile attempt at control. We hit the wall on my side. The airbags deployed on his. It was the most exciting EMS call of the last decade.

 Chapter 52

    They came running, probably thinking how lucky it was that we had crashed so close to campus, lucky that someone with skills could do something for the victims immediately. I watched them race, in all their blue glory down Morewood and onto Fifth where we were holding up traffic. I saw them slow when they recognized John¡¯s car, and again when they recognized me. It was Sandy, Carl and Ruby, the holy trinity come to witness my sin. I felt a rush of blood to my head blot out all but one thought. I had failed. They opened the doors and pulled us out. I recognized their technique, analyzing it for mistakes. I should have been thankful that I had something to distract me. Instead, I found myself hyper conscious of my every action.


    ¡°Andi, can you hear me?¡± Ruby sternal rubbed me. I wanted to punch her to get her to stop but I couldn¡¯t move my arm more than a few inches.


    I nodded.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move too much,¡± she said. ¡°You know the drill, c-spine precautions.¡±


    Of course. I knew the drill. How many times had I practiced the exact trauma exam she was performing right now?


    ¡°John?¡± I said, trying to catch her eye, catch an honest glimpse.


    ¡°Sandy¡¯s got him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I began to cry as the reality of situation crashed over me, shattering my previously eerie calm. I had failed as an EMT. I was the one being taken care of again. My father would never respect someone who needed help like I did.


    * * *


    The doctors say that I was very lucky, that if I had been a few inches over, the car door would have collapsed on me, breaking the bones in the right side of my body. As it were, I only ended up with a concussion. Granted, the worst thing you can get as someone struggling with school is a concussion, but I guess I was thankful that I hadn¡¯t ended up half-broken.


    Revelations are not meant for the road.


    They told me to relax, to spend a lot of time with the lights off, not to use my phone or computer too much. I told them I would die if I spent my time disconnected from everyone else in the dark. They thought I was addicted to technology. That wasn¡¯t what I had been trying to tell them. When I asked how John was, they said that he was unhurt, just a little shaken up. He had been sleeping in the lobby since he had been discharged almost twelve hours earlier. And the car? I had asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re not car doctors,¡± they said. ¡°We preserve life.¡±


    My vision swayed and blurred with colors that usually stayed in place to match the surreal doctors who didn¡¯t save mechanical things. As I drifted back to the dark, safe unconscious, I wondered if I had become mechanical. Day in, day out doing school, then homework, EMS, homework then sleep. Turn the key to get me started and I would run on empty for miles. What was the key? I started to panic; what if they couldn¡¯t fix me? I would never be able to find the key.


    I woke up in the most ungraceful of positions. My arms were splayed like those of a clock and I felt like I had been trying to sleep on both my front and my back. John had found his way into my room and collapsed into a chair by my bed. His head was tilted back at an uncomfortable angle and I could see his eyelids flutter. I wondered what dream they were jumping about. He was the palest shade of fear. He reminded me of a baby; the soft contours of his face spoke of innocence and loyalty. I wondered if he had been watching me sleep the same way I was watching him.


    He woke with a start, like he had been falling and the wooden folding chair had caught him, scooped him out of the air and rescued him, overcoming its prosaic function with one valiant act. We stared at each other, each shocked to find the other present.


    He pulled me from my bed and into his arms. ¡°I thought I had lost you.¡±


    I allowed the melodrama and wondered whether he was referring to my confession or my life. Either way was valid but it was a different conversation depending on what he meant. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°I¡¯m still here,¡± I said. Vague was what I had chosen to go with.


    ¡°Are you hurt?¡± he said, examining my eyes for signs of trauma. ¡°Your pupils are sluggish.¡±


    ¡°Apparently, I have a concussion. Just what I need.¡±


    ¡°We could put you on personal leave for EMS,¡± he said.


    Personal leave. Perfect. The place where people who want to leave EMS go. I shook my head. Sandy wasn¡¯t going to get rid of me that easily.


    ¡°How are you?¡± I said.


    He twirled for me. ¡°I didn¡¯t get hurt. The damage was on your side of the car.¡± He looked at the ground. ¡°I thought it was going to be worse.¡±


    I lay back down. I felt like I had turned into a piece of wood and someone was trying to bend me.


    ¡°May I?¡± he said, gesturing to the bed.


    I wondered if he was going to apologize for crashing the car, for giving me a concussion.


    Like he had read my mind, he said ¡°I wish it hadn¡¯t happened.¡±


    Which wasn¡¯t an apology but it did show that he felt bad. I figured it was the best I was going to get.


    * * *


    Everyone in EMS found out and I couldn¡¯t do a thing to stop it from my bed, where I had decided to stay until I felt stable. Their constant texts of faux comfort were like barbs driving pain through my tenderized brain. ¡°Andi was a call,¡± I imagined they said. ¡°I would never be a call.¡± Sandy wrote up a special report about the incident, for documentation purposes. I knew she was building a case.


    My head felt like a blender for days. I was sure that crash had chewed up all my learned knowledge and mixed it with mango chunks and peanut butter. Every time I started a homework assignment, I had to stop. The mental effort exhausted me. Each statistics problem felt like a marathon. A marathon I had eaten hamburgers for instead of training. And I slept a lot, more than my usual. I slumbered like a dragon who had forgotten to set an alarm.


    My mother found out pretty quickly that I wasn¡¯t as sharp as I was through our phone calls.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming tomorrow,¡± she said. And that¡¯s what she did.


    My father had not been able to take off from work, my mother mentioned when she arrived. But he sent his regards.


    ¡°Tell him the sentiment was received,¡± I said. Two can play at the game of saying nothing.


    She cupped her hands around my forehead, as if by manual effort she could keep the parts of my brain together. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    I sat down on my bed and put my head in her lap, pouring out everything that had happened since I left home, sharing stories of Sandy, Flint, John and Ruby. I told her about my classes and missing tests. I told her about how much I missed her and Sammy. She stroked my hair, awkwardly at first because it had been years since I was young enough that releasing all my troubles on her lap was appropriate.


    ¡°How is Sammy?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s okay. Your father is really trying to control his temper around Sammy.¡±


    ¡°There haven¡¯t been any incidents?¡± I twisted up to see her face as she answered.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that. He¡¯s trying. Just like you are. We can¡¯t be perfect.¡±


    ¡°He shouldn¡¯t be there anymore. He should never have been there. He should never have been able to hurt Sammy.¡±


    My mother released my hair. Her hands hovered just above my head.


    ¡°When we went away, why didn¡¯t we stay away?¡±


    She was silent. She stroked my hair without thinking about it, like I wasn¡¯t there, wasn¡¯t part of the consideration.


    ¡°We came back because I believed that people could change. I had hope. For a better future for you and for your brother. Being raised by a single mother isn¡¯t a TV show drama. It¡¯s raising yourself, like I did. I didn¡¯t want that for you. I wanted to be there.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s not working.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m very tired, Andi. Please don¡¯t ask me any more questions.¡±


    I sat up.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not a child. You don¡¯t get to dismiss me like this, or play the martyr card. He hurt me too.¡±


    ¡°What do you want me to say?¡±


    ¡°I want you to tell me the truth. Why are you still with him? Why are you letting him live near Sammy?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s what I could get, Andi. You don¡¯t understand. He¡¯s what I deserve.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not what Sammy deserves,¡± I pushed. ¡°He¡¯s not what I deserved.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, okay?¡± She yelled. ¡°I don¡¯t have the answers you want.¡±


    We sat in silence. I let my broken brain sort through the shattered bits of information I had received.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said.


    We ordered Chinese food and ate it on my bed, knowing my father would have been furious at such an indecorous departure from decency. We didn¡¯t talk much after that. But there was warmth beneath it all. Or, more likely, a lessening of anger. When it was time to go to sleep, even though she had booked a hotel room, my mother slept in my dorm room bed. I went to sleep thinking about what my mother would do if she heard Ruby¡¯s sleep cursing.

 Chapter 54

    March


    The week prior to Spring Fling was a whirlwind of activity. Third party tents started popping up all over campus. Signs for every kind of themed alcoholic event possible covered the electrical poles, the billboards, the sidewalk and the back of my eyelids. The atmosphere was electric. There was a countdown ticking away in everyone¡¯s heads; it is almost time. I got ready to spend a lot of the weekend doing my homework. During the day, from eight am to two pm, if people were feeling conservative, were the times when everything apparently slowed down. We had been told not to plan to do anything during the rest of the twenty-four hour period in a day because we would be running around.


    By the time the weekend came, everyone had been warned. The neighbors had been asked to please excuse the students as they let loose for the only time that year. The city paramedics had been warned that there would be an unusually high number of intox calls. The students had been warned that the police would be on patrol for the underage among them. We had been warned that this was our last chance to pass calls.


    Lily had passed her last call and gone through her scenarios a few weeks prior, which left me as the only one of our friends who hadn¡¯t moved up.


    I went to Flint¡¯s room to see what his plans were. He jumped when I opened the door without knocking. His face didn¡¯t have the same smiling light it usually did, when I saw him. He seemed to have been staring at one beam in his bed frame for a while.


    ¡°What does a guy have to do to get a little privacy around here?¡± he said.


    ¡°Stop leaving his door unlocked,¡± I said, shutting the door behind me. ¡°Are you doing anything fun for Spring Fling? Remember, I have to live vicariously through you.¡±


    ¡°Right to the point. That¡¯s my girl.¡± He pushed his fingers through his hair in his typical thoughtful way, as if I had asked him a philosophical question. ¡°Probably just going to lay low. People have been getting pretty crazy preparing for this. I feel like something bad is going to happen.¡±


    I looked at him again. He seemed paler than usual and sweaty.  I reached out to touch his forehead.


    He slapped my hand away. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    I held my hand in my other hand, behind my back, like I was leading myself off my favorite playground. ¡°Why did you do that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be touched.¡±


    ¡°I was trying to help. You don¡¯t look well,¡± I said.


    He shook his head. ¡°I have homework to do.¡±


    Dismissed, I walked towards the door. When I glanced back, Flint was staring at a different beam in his bed like he expected it all to come crashing down around him. He didn¡¯t have any homework in front of him, not even paper. I slammed the door on my way out, probably angering the rest of the floor and not bothering Flint one bit.


    Why was he always so confusing? What had I done wrong? Why had he reminded me of my father in that moment?


    I tried to push that thought out of my mind without thinking about it. I couldn¡¯t bear it if it was true.


    * * *


    My teachers had assigned a test and a project for after Spring Fling weekend, probably to try to temper the drinking with the need to get something done. But they didn¡¯t understand. The project would just stress everyone out the Monday after the weekend. It was taboo to do homework during this sacred time. This weekend was for shoving all the shenanigans we usually didn¡¯t do into reality. So I tried to work on studying for this test and making this project early. I could feel the excitement radiating from the other rooms. It made the lights brighter, the air crisper. Ruby was all smiles for a change. Someone had bought her a bottle of neon pink liquor. She told me it tasted awful but it looked so pretty, didn¡¯t it?


    We walked to the office together to get my jumpkit so I could go on duty. Ruby just wanted to hang out. I wanted to go over drills so I knew what to do if something terrible-awful happened. Like a party chandelier fell on someone¡¯s head or there was a heroin overdose or a heart attack. They ran me through an intox and then sat around talking. Ruby dominated the conversation, switching from jokes to serious questions like an expert DJ.


    DOOOO-DOOOOOOOH.


    We all leapt up, accompanied by the familiar curses and whoops that came with being dispatched. I picked my jumpkit up and started running. If I didn¡¯t get there when the Crew Chief and Supervisor did, I wouldn¡¯t be able to lead and pass a call. They jumped in the car, so I had to run back and join them. There was no way I was faster than a police vehicle repurposed for EMS.


    ¡°You all set? You know what to do?¡± John asked from the front seat.


    ¡°What was the dispatch again?¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Intox,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s started.¡±


    Sandy rolled her eyes. His grin was huge. He got such a thrill out of the rush of adrenaline that came with each call. As long as you weren¡¯t doing anything important, getting an EMS call was fun. I ran through the checklist I had made in my head for intox calls. I had taken to codifying the types of calls we had to make up for the fact that my brain couldn¡¯t handle fast changes as well as it used to. ¡°I¡¯m getting older now,¡± I imagined my brain saying. ¡°You¡¯re still 18,¡± I told it. ¡°Just because you¡¯re a little bruised¡­¡±


    We arrived at my dorm. That¡¯s when I knew something was wrong. It was a freshman dorm and supposed to be dry at all times. Sandy tried to block me from going in first, but I ducked around her and through the open door. The police were already there and an officer led us up a few floors, to my floor. My stomach dropped even more. What if it was someone I knew? I prayed that some upperclassman had forgotten that they didn¡¯t live here anymore and stumbled into the building in a drunken haze.


    Flint¡¯ roommate was outside their room. His words started filtering in slowly.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t wake him up. I thought it was weird. I don¡¯t know what happened. Is he going to be okay?¡±


    I gestured him aside. I felt like icicles were forming on my internal organs. Don¡¯t move the wrong way, Andi. Something will explode.


    Flint was lying on the floor in a starfish position. He didn¡¯t seem to be breathing so I checked for drug paraphernalia, prescription bottles and alcohol. Nothing except for an empty fifth. I almost slapped him. You¡¯re an idiot, I wanted to tell him. Instead, I sternal rubbed him, a way of getting a painful response mixed with maybe a little bit of payback. He woke up just enough to look at me.


    ¡°Andi¡­you never tell me anything,¡± he said.


    ¡°Flint, stay with me,¡± I said. His eyes shut.


    ¡°Sandy, call the medics. John, get the oxygen and set it up. I¡¯m going to do a rapid trauma and put him on his side so he doesn¡¯t asphyxiate if he throws up.¡±


    They went to do as I had said, John lingering a little longer. ¡°Is that the Flint?¡±


    ¡°Do you need a sternal rub too?¡± I surprised myself with my anger. That was what he was focusing on. Flint needed to be in a hospital.


    I pushed his hair, floppy with sweat from his forehead. He wasn¡¯t breathing well. I sternal rubbed him again but he just moaned. Wake up, idiot, I thought. I pulled my hand back when John entered the room. He dropped the oxygen bag on the floor and stood above us, pulling some sort of cosmic rank. I pulled the oxygen bag over to me, hoping that somehow it would transfer the will to live through the tubes and out of the valves into Flint¡¯ limp body. John¡¯s temper tantrum wasn¡¯t important right then. Flint started to throw up. I glanced at the mixture and noticed a few half-digested pills.


    ¡°Sandy, update the medics, there were drugs involved, not just alcohol.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± she said. ¡°He have any other friends here? Anything that can tell us what happened?¡±


    I kept my eyes trained on the oxygen bag and rattled off the possibilities. ¡°Possible suicide.¡±


    ¡°What makes you think suicide?¡± she said.


    I grabbed for any excuse I could think of. ¡°It¡¯s a feeling I have.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Sandy said. ¡°I love when we base medical decisions on feelings.¡±


    ¡°Did you try to wake him up?¡± John said. ¡°I bet you didn¡¯t try hard enough.¡± He grabbed Flint¡¯ ear and twisted it. Flint moaned and pulled away.


    ¡°Leave him alone,¡± I said, swatting at him. ¡°I¡¯m checking to make sure he¡¯s responsive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he is responsive to you,¡± John said. If he had been outside, I¡¯m sure he would have spit on the floor.


    I longed to be outside of this room. My worlds were colliding and I was afraid that this would be the end, like the reverse big bang. After what felt like an eternity, the medics arrived. John transferred to them with as much condescending language as he could fit into five sentences. The medics put him on a stretcher, covered him up with sheets whiter than a lily and certainly whiter than our Lily, and buckled him in. I found his wallet and tucked it into the side of the stretcher. I bargained with whoever the higher power was. I¡¯ll do anything. I¡¯ll work harder in school. I¡¯ll be more honest. I¡¯ll quit EMS. Just help him. I wished that I could go with him, be there when he woke up. But I was on duty and leaving would probably get me kicked out.


    ¡°Freshmen,¡± John said to Sandy when the medics had left.


    I stalked out of the room carrying as many of the bags and oxygen tanks as I could. It wasn¡¯t dignified or angry in any way. It was clumsy and I ran into every corner and doorjam on the way out. John and Sandy followed with their personal jumpkits, joking about how great Spring Fling was. I tried to ignore them but they wanted to debrief the call. Sandy had no idea what she had walked in to. John was well aware and didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°I wonder what he took,¡± Sandy said. ¡°Could you tell what the pills were?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°Why are you so down, Andi?¡± John said. ¡°That was the perfect call. You did everything right. Any reasonable human being would pass you on that.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Sandy said.


    ¡°Point proven,¡± John said. ¡°I¡¯ll pass you on it. That¡¯s your third one, right? Don¡¯t worry about that patient. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be very happy he got you your last pass.¡±


    The patient. I glowered at John, wondering if he had suffered a concussion as well. Perhaps it would help him see the situation more clearly if he lost some prideful brain cells. That pass was what I had wanted for a year.


    I glanced outside to see if the ambulance was still outside. Its lights were piercing through the window. I dropped the oxygen tank on the ground, ignoring Sandy¡¯s annoyed gasp.


    ¡°Consider this notice of my off time. I¡¯m going with him.¡±


    I started to run towards the ambulance, down the hall and then the stairs.


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle it,¡± I heard from behind me.


    I sped up but John caught me just as I reached up and knocked on the door.


    ¡°Andi, you can¡¯t do this. You have a responsibility to the greater campus. You can¡¯t just go jumping in ambulances.¡±


    The ambulance door opened.


    ¡°Is it okay if I ride with you?¡± I said to the paramedic.


    He waved me up.


    I turned to John as I climbed the stairs. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me what to do.¡±

 Chapter 55

    They let me stay with him for most of it but for initial check in and treatment I had to stay in the waiting room. I drove the receptionists crazy with my pacing. I¡¯m pretty sure they begged the nurses to let me go back.


    I ran-walked at the most appropriate pace I could muster. I pulled back the curtain to see. He was paler than I expected and upon further inspection, his hair was matted against his forehead with sweat.


    ¡°Flint,¡± I whispered, hoping that he wouldn¡¯t wake up. I brushed the hair away from his forehead. He moved slightly but didn¡¯t open his eyes. ¡°Flint?¡±


    Nothing. I kissed his forehead in the divide between two tufts of hair that had sprung back when I moved him. I straightened his sheets and touched the back of his hand.


    He was fast asleep. I shouldn¡¯t bother him. I shouldn¡¯t wake him. I gathered myself, looked at him over my shoulder and took a step towards the curtain.


    ¡°That¡¯s it? You¡¯re just going to steal a kiss and leave? Swiper, no swiping.¡±


    I whirled around. ¡°You¡¯re awake?¡±


    He closed and reopened his eyes. ¡°Unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°Did you do it on purpose?¡± I said. ¡°What did you take?¡±


    ¡°The doctors say it was a cry for help,¡± he said, finally answering one of my questions.


    ¡°What were you thinking?¡±


    He sat up a little taller in his bed, arranging the pillows so he had to do as little core work as possible. If I were him, I probably would have fallen out of bed. He reached for his beige pitcher of water and his mini-bathroom cup. After a few sips of water, I was sure he had forgotten my question.


    ¡°What were you¡­¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can describe it quite right. It was like a wave. It knocked me on my head and was dragging me out to sea.¡± He put his head back, exhausted by his exertion. ¡°I had to grab onto something. You were there but then you crumbled away.¡±


    I tried to avoid eye contact, choosing the fascinating image of the beige pitcher instead of the entrancing eyes trained on me. ¡°How did you find out?¡±


    ¡°A friend. They didn¡¯t know what they were doing. I think they were actually trying to be friendly for once.¡±


    ¡°Ruby.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t deny it,¡± he said.


    ¡°What did she tell you?¡±


    He shook his head at me. ¡°That you were with some guy from EMS. I came by to hang out and she was the only one there.¡±


    I promised myself that I would never tell Ruby anything ever again. She messed things up when she was trying to and when she wasn¡¯t trying to, although who could tell which was which.


    ¡°I have a concussion,¡± I said. ¡°When I told John we were together, he ran through an intersection and we got hit.¡±


    ¡°The doctors say I probably should have died tonight.¡±


    ¡°That was self-inflicted,¡± I said.


    ¡°And yours wasn¡¯t?¡±


    I grasped the cold handles of the plastic chair I had fallen into. Who had sat here before me? Was it a patient¡¯s mother as she watched her young son¡¯s leg get reset after a sporting accident? Had the sporting accident been that she took him to a game too young and the fans had trampled upon him?


    ¡°You have to choose,¡± he said, reaching out his hand.


    ¡°You don¡¯t get to tell me that. Not after this stunt you pulled.¡± I pulled my chair of memories away from his bed and tried to change the subject. ¡°When will you get out?¡±


    ¡°Whenever you ask me to.¡±


    ¡°Of the hospital,¡± I said.


    ¡°Whenever the doctors ask me to.¡±


    He reached out his hand to me. ¡°I don¡¯t understand you.¡±


    I backed away. ¡°You can¡¯t. I can¡¯t do this to you again.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re doing it to yourself. I just wish you could see that.¡±


    I glanced outside the curtains and noticed a group of nurses hovering next to a nearby station, straining to hear. An audience, I thought. Exactly what someone having a serious discussion does not need. I no longer felt like I could be myself. My face forced myself into a smile, pulling my cheeks upwards like a broken marionette.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see that you are doing okay.¡±

 Chapter 56

    April


    That week, after John passed me on my last call, I spent every free moment in the office. Scenarios were the scariest part of ranking up. If you did really badly, the Supervisors would stop you from doing any more until you were actually ready because there were only a few sets of them. I could feel my courage turn to a weak broth at the face of each scenario. They would close the door to discuss and I would feel my emotions crawling up my neck, threatening to strangle me.


    They told me that scenarios were designed as a teaching tool but I was sure they had turned into a rite of passage. ¡°When I did that one¡­¡± a sentence would often start. The idea was, if you had never seen a cardiac arrest or a really serious trauma, these would put you in a place where you knew how to deal with them. We didn¡¯t get a lot of life-hanging-in-the-balance calls, but when we did, we didn¡¯t want life to hang. Ruby had been a superstar through hers, passing some that only a few people before her had managed to pull off. I cried after each set of scenarios, furious at myself for failing and forgetting and seeming to be turning my wheels in the thickest mud.


    Lily saw me after one set, curled up in a ball in the hallway where I thought no one could find me. I tried to stop crying, hating that she was seeing me weak. Lily hadn¡¯t had trouble passing the tests.


    ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go get some fresh air,¡± she said.


    I tiptoed after her, hoping the soft padding of my feet didn¡¯t disturb her. Outside, we sat on a nearby bench.


    ¡°You need to calm down,¡± she said.


    ¡°This makes me feel better.¡±


    ¡°Your pity party in the hallway isn¡¯t going to get you through scenarios or to where you want to be. You can¡¯t take this process personally.¡±


    ¡°It is a personal process. I have to do well,¡± I said.


    ¡°Do you ever get that feeling, that you¡¯re on the outside and you¡¯re looking at yourself impassively? Like someone else is operating your body for you?¡±


    ¡°Yeah...¡± I said.


    ¡°Relax,¡± she said. She patted me on the shoulder. ¡°It helps.¡±


    I wondered if that was how Lily made it through being with Carl. I couldn¡¯t process it for two long though. I went back in to do scenarios and was actually able to pass two of them. I used my fake confidence and authority mask that I was learning and I figured out what I needed to do. I danced all the way home to my dorm. Looking back, that memory is still bright in my mind. Sandy was only able to sully it a little when she used the fact that I cried after scenarios as a reason I shouldn¡¯t be elected to a leadership position.


    It took another two sets of scenarios for me to get my last pass. Getting there felt like pulling teeth while climbing a mountain. Balance and pain were definitely problems.


    After I had passed, Ruby and Lily took me out to ice cream. It was the most adorable place with the best mix-ins, they said.


    ¡°It¡¯s actually a front for drugs,¡± Ruby told me later. ¡°But they serve ice cream, so who cares?¡±


    We giggled the way we should have been able to at the beginning of our friendship, sharing spoons and acting like restaurant critics.


    ¡°You¡¯re officially in,¡± Lily said. ¡°You made it.¡±


    ¡°Just in time, too,¡± I said. ¡°We only have a few more weeks left of school and even fewer before the EMS conference. Everyone forgets everything during the summer.¡±


    ¡°John passed her on one,¡± Ruby said to Lily with a shrug.


    My hurricane sensed conflict and began to spin, whirring amongst my organs like a bumper car. Stay, I told it. Disobedient thing. You¡¯re going to ruin everything.


    ¡°You sound like Sandy,¡± I said. ¡°You passed three finger lacerations. How hard was that?¡±


    We ate our ice cream in silence.


    ¡°Anyone want a napkin?¡± Lily asked.


    ¡°To clean this up?¡± I asked gesturing to the ice cream on the table, to Ruby, to Lily.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you think you can still run for a position. You¡¯ve only been a Responder for a few hours. I¡¯ve been a Responder for months,¡± Ruby said.


    We are well aware of that, I thought. Even Lily looked uncomfortable.


    ¡°You know this is why I¡¯ve been trying to rank up so quickly. I want to change our training program.¡±


    Ruby looked like she was going to throw her ice cream, slender handled mug and all at the wall. Gem of fire, indeed. I don¡¯t think the establishment would appreciate scraping ice cream off of their carefully chaotic walls. But I liked that I was able to bother her. I was in now. She couldn¡¯t keep me out because she felt like it.


    ¡°It¡¯s not up to us,¡± she said, an attempt at grace.


    ¡°It¡¯s not up to you.¡±


    ¡°I love this cookie butter,¡± Lily said.


    We both raised our eyebrows at her. But she had done it, cracked the tension just enough that we could let the mushy goop of our friendship seep through and cover our animosity.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe they sell drugs here!¡± I said.


    We laughed together, our conflict put aside, but never forgotten.


    Flint came back to the dorm a few days later. His roommate showed the most emotion that I have ever seen him at that moment. He hugged Flint in that enveloping way, the one you save for people you never thought you¡¯d see again.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to die, you do it when I don¡¯t know you anymore, we clear?¡± he said.  Flint slapped him on the back and smiled. ¡°You got it.¡±


    My father had called my phone at that moment, and I had run out of the room. I regretted not greeting Flint but there was more at stake.


    ¡°How are your grades?¡± he asked, forgetting or ignoring ¡°hello¡±.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be short with me. You got yourself into this mess.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to figure everything out,¡± I said.


    ¡°It might be too late. Who is going to hire you with grades like that?  I¡¯ll tell you, it¡¯s not going to be me.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to work for you.¡±


    ¡°Then what do you want to do? You¡¯ve always been wishy-washy. You want to go this way one day and the next way the next.¡±


    I tried not to let the truth behind the insult throw me into the whirl of the hurricane, but I could feel the storm brewing. My father had an unfortunate knack for stirring tropical damage.


    ¡°Is this EMS thing even worth it? You don¡¯t make money and your mother would be so disappointed if you were a menial laborer for the rest of your life.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not menial labor. We help people.¡±


    ¡°People on ambulances pick people up and put them down. Glorified bus drivers,¡± he spat. ¡°You should quit before you turn into one.¡±


    The difference between a quick response service and a transport service would be lost on him, so I didn¡¯t try to explain.


    ¡°I¡¯m figuring it out. I am,¡± I said. ¡°I just need more time.¡± I surprised myself with the force of my voice.


    ¡°Your mother wants to see you. We¡¯ll be coming up in the next week or two.¡±


    He hung up.


    Good old excuse. My mother wants something and my father is so obliging he can¡¯t say no. When in reality, the idea was probably his all along. I wondered why she didn¡¯t pack up and visit me herself if she felt so strongly. It was just another opportunity to control my life, steer it towards the ideal of, of¡­.of what I didn¡¯t know.


    I returned to greet Flint to find that he was in his room.  ¡°Resting,¡± his roommate/guard dog said. ¡°He¡¯s been through a lot.¡±


    In lieu of seeing Flint, I made myself a tea from the bathroom sink and hid in the blanket fort. What did I want to do? Why could I never pick something and decide on it? Did I have some fundamental flaw that prevented me from focusing on and doing any one thing well? I had chosen to study the technical fields because they promised jobs and stability, something I knew my parents respected. After all, you can¡¯t pretend everything is peachy unless you have money to hide the mold spots and clean up the skin. Apparently, EMS wasn¡¯t technical or a job or stable enough. It was a job for those ¡°other¡± people. I was too good for EMS in his eyes, but not worthy of anything else.


    I thought of hurling my cup across the room like he often would, to see if it would make me feel better, if the outward destruction would mollify the inward forces. Thinking about the pieces of ceramic that I would have to pick out of the fibrous carpet and that mess the tea with honey would make had me thinking twice. My father would have just thrown it, knowing that my mother would come along and clean it up. Oh, she would have said something, some light rebuke about denting the wall or alerting the neighbors, throwing a pink polka dotted kitchen towel over our troubles so no one could see what was really going on.


    Ruby had started vacating our room for days on end. She wouldn¡¯t go to the office, because I checked for her there. Sometimes, Akul would come looking for her. He would find her room empty and spend a few hours sitting in her desk chair, playing with the unkempt threads that were dangling out of her sheets. Sometimes he would tilt the chair back against the dresser and put his feet up on the desk, forming a ¡°V¡± with his body. She would arrive back in the morning sober and quiet, but she smiled more often these days. Not to me of course. She never forgot that we were competing for the same thing. Cold was a word I could use to describe our room, even as summer approached.


    ¡°Where were you?¡±


    ¡°None of your beeswax,¡± she said.


    ¡°Akul came by,¡± I pleaded.


    ¡°What did you say to him?¡±


    ¡°I told him the truth.¡±


    She whirled around. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°That you were out,¡± I said, more upset than triumphant that she had confirmed my suspicion.


    ¡°Leave it alone, Andi. This has nothing to do with you.¡± She flipped the desk chair to its upright position and then climbed under the mountain of comforters on her bed.

 Chapter 57

    I started spending any free time I had in lounges, the office, libraries, basically, anywhere else but our room. I felt like an accessory. Accessory to what, I wasn¡¯t sure. But I felt like I was helping her hide something from Akul. John had offered to help me practice my speech, so I spend a lot of time going over ways I could make the training program better and then inserting it carefully into my speech, dropping it in to make a smooth convincing mechanism. I knew I shouldn¡¯t have been worried about what Ruby was writing but I often wondered if she was writing a slander speech, something that would put me in a really bad light. She could. Anyone who lives with a stranger for a year has dirt on them. She had had no problem sharing with Flint about John, which meant that she was willing to go that extra mile for nothing. What would she be willing to do for something she wanted?


    Meanwhile, Lily and Carl broke up for the nineteenth time. We rolled our eyes while we patted her on the back. ¡°It¡¯s okay¡± fell lackluster from our mouths to plunk upon her deaf ears. We could have been singing the Cotton-Eyed Joe for all she cared. Voices and warm bodies was all she needed at that point and we were certainly up to filling that task. Around 11 pm though, Ruby got a text. She quickly shot off a reply and told us she had to go. We let her. What else could we do? Barricade the door?


    When she was out of the room, my curiosity overcame me. ¡°Stay right here,¡± I said to Lily.


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave me.¡± Lily got up to follow me out.


    ¡°Okay, fine. Follow me.¡± We tiptoed, spy style, to the study room window where I had once looked out in wonder at the students scurrying like ants.


    Now, sidewalks looked like the anthills had been brushed away, leaving only bare concrete in its wake.


    ¡°That¡¯s Ruby!¡± I said, pointing at the figure below the window.


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Lily pointed to the guy beside her. ¡°Akul?¡±


    We pressed our faces up against the glass in unison. ¡°It¡¯s Fothorn. Jacob Fothorn.¡±


    I left my face there for a moment, enjoying the feeling of the cool glass. Now we really were accessories to this. Did we have to tell Akul?


    We watched them walk away from our dorm and I envied the way that she could just go off with Jacob, regardless of Akul. She listened to herself; that was for sure. I imagined the sound of her boots clacking against the sidewalk and dried to drown my thoughts. If I thought too much, I know what conclusion I would come to. Ruby was my roommate, but Akul had been living in our room for almost as much time as she had.


    * * *


    We waited outside the elections room for almost an hour and a half. The election process was a cascading one from most important to least. The Training Officer position was at the end. When I walked into the elections room, I was surprised to see the entire organization jockeying for position around the oval table. Granted, I knew our organization was small, but this was tiny. There were maybe ten? Twelve if we were pushing it. I swallowed, hoping my speech words hadn¡¯t gone down to my stomach. I could feel the acid begin to churn like a hungry shark, doing flip-flops to scare out some sustenance.


    ¡°Who¡¯s going first?¡± Sandy said.


    Ruby and I made eye contact, trying to feel out the protocol.


    ¡°You can go,¡± she said and left before I could respond.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯m going,¡± I said smiling as big as I could, hoping my lame joke would be sharp enough to chip away at the ice.


    John gave me a half smile. Progress.


    ¡°For those of you who don¡¯t know me, I¡¯m Andi. I¡¯m running for Training Officer because I believe it is one of the foundational building blocks of EMS. If people don¡¯t advance, then we don¡¯t have any people. I¡¯ve been learning everything I can about training through scenarios and drills. I¡¯ve seen the plans for new member training and I understand the continuing education that needs to get done. As far as who I am, I¡¯m organized, obviously dedicated and really ready to become involved in leadership in this organization. I want to make it an inclusive place for everyone. Does anyone have any questions?¡±


    Sandy¡¯s hand was the first in the air. ¡°What would you do if someone was struggling in scenarios and had gone through them all?¡±


    I recognized the cases she was talking about. People who had gone through scenarios who hadn¡¯t been ready. These people would spend over a year in scenarios and then drop out because of the stress.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°I¡¯d probably take them out of scenarios, run them through drills and make sure they were ready before putting them back in scenarios.¡±


    Sandy smiled. I knew I had messed up.


    John raised his hand. ¡°What would you say the primary role of the Training Officer is?¡±


    ¡°Organization,¡± I said. ¡°Making sure everything gets done, not actually doing it. Trying to do it all would burn out any Training Officer and isn¡¯t a good plan. I¡¯m very organized and I¡¯d be able to delegate to the other members of the organization.¡±


    I hoped that had saved me, even a little.


    ¡°Any other questions?¡± I said.


    ¡°You can send Ruby in,¡± Sandy said before anyone could answer.


    I turned my back slowly, worried that a knife was going to come flying out of Sandy¡¯s hand and lodge itself in my back. I sent Ruby in.


    ¡°Was it bad?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I guess you¡¯ll see,¡± I said, putting my hands on the table to prepare for my head to rest itself there.


    She left. She came back. We waited almost forty-five minutes in absolute silence.


    John came to get us. ¡°We¡¯re ready for you,¡± he said.


    There had been war in this room. Everyone had deep grooves in their face, exhaustion from trying to get their point across. Ruby and I stood side by side, waiting for the judgment to fall.


    ¡°Ruby.¡±


    The single word was all she needed to celebrate. I stood still, hoping they were going to tell her that she was not the Training Officer, that I had made it through. But no one said anything further. I gave her a hug, trying desperately to be a good sport. Grinning, she took her seat with the Executive Board and I exited the room. Elections were over. Later, John had told me that Sandy was the major force in putting Ruby in the position instead of me. He said she had fought so hard to make sure everyone knew that I wasn¡¯t strong enough to go through scenarios and so I wouldn¡¯t be strong enough to have anyone else go through scenarios. She had finally gotten her way and kept me out of being able to change anything.


    * * *


    Flint found me on Flagstaff Hill, the place that everyone went to in order to smoke weed. Perhaps he was even looking to smoke, but he discovered me instead. I was sitting next to a bench, because the bench was metal and cold at night.  He walked up behind me and put a blanket around my shoulders. If he had been a serial killer, I would have been dead, because I didn¡¯t react. I had no idea who was behind me but I didn¡¯t care. I rested my forehead against the bench. Flint sat down beside me.


    ¡°I saw Ruby today,¡± he said.


    The sound of her name set the hurricane going. ¡°What did she tell you this time?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer, but I knew.


    ¡°I saw the quizzes on your desk,¡± he said.


    I hoped the cool metal would seep into my skin and turn me into a statue. People only admired statues.  But statues didn¡¯t have blankets. I tugged the one Flint had given me closer.


    ¡°What about them?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen your high school transcript, Andi. What is going on? I can¡¯t tutor you forever.¡±


    ¡°I never asked you to,¡± I said.


    He stood up, circled the bench and sat down again, leaping up almost immediately. He kicked up his own personal cyclone of dust as he did furious fast walking laps around the bench. He picked up a rock and threw it at a nearby tree. Crack. It echoed down the hill, brushing the tips of the grass as it went. I flinched at the sound, sensing its familiarity to my nightmares, the sounds of horse¡¯s hooves. Flint sat down beside me again, breathing harder.


    ¡°When I was in third grade, I had these two T.V. shows that I loved to watch. But I was only allowed half an hour of T.V. per week.¡±


    ¡°That must have seriously messed you up,¡± I said.


    He shot me a look. ¡°I would watch one of the shows when my mom was home, but I would watch the other show when she wasn¡¯t. She¡¯d run out for an errand and I¡¯d flip on the T.V. So one time, she asked me to make these drawings to send to my grandparents in Florida while she ran to the drug store for some soap. We had run out. Well, naturally, I turned on the T.V. to watch my show while I drew the pictures she had asked for. She was back too soon though. I heard the door shut and I flipped the T.V. off and started frantically coloring something on the page, but I was no longer young enough to get away with scribbling on the page and calling it art. She asked me what I did while she was gone. I said that I had been working on the pictures. She put her hand on the T.V. and gestured for me to come over. She got down on her knees so we were eye level and said something I will never forget. She said ¡°Flint, I have only ever asked one thing from you: respect. Respect means that you care about someone enough to trust them with the truth.¡±


    ¡°I see so many parallels to my situation,¡± I said.


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing, Andi. I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why are you always so cryptic? Can¡¯t you just say that you think that I lied to you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m getting at. You¡¯ve never been real with me, even when you tried. I wonder sometimes if you¡¯re capable of it. Stop thinking about what people think of you and just be the Andi that I know is in there.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that this isn¡¯t the real me?¡± I said. How do I know which me is me?


    ¡°I can¡¯t figure that out for you. I just know that it¡¯s keeping you down. You can¡¯t be anything until you¡¯re you.¡±


    He left me with the blanket.


    I sighed. The situation had called for it. It all reminded me of the hookah-smoking caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland. He kept asking her ¡°Who are you?¡± and blowing smoke in her face. That always made me angry. I wanted Alice to find a different hurdle to overcome. How was Alice supposed to know who she was if she couldn¡¯t see through all that smoke? The only thing I hated more than smoke was mirrors.

 Chapter 58

    May


    My parents visited me for a few days. My father had make extra effort to take off from work to be there, my mother said, trying to inject love where there couldn¡¯t possibly be. I had said nothing, not wanting to rock the boat. Physical proximity was always where I had least control.


    ¡°I¡¯ve made reservations at a place nearby, had to pull a few strings because we reserved late.¡± He said it like it was my fault.


    My mother pacified. ¡°It seems like the food will be wonderful.¡± An offering, I thought. Take it.


    ¡°One second,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    I walked into my room. Ruby wasn¡¯t there to save me that time. I looked at the window, at the bed, at my computer. I tried to find something that could save me. I caught a glimpse of how crazy I looked, whipping my head around to find something that would help. There were bags under my eyes, purple circles that made my skin contrast like an English essay, for sure that had been the cause.  My hair had been combed but the split ends that kept occurring while I slept were fraying. My hair had been falling out, not the point where someone could notice, but pulling it off of my pillow in the morning was getting more and more disheartening. I tugged at the skirt I had chosen because my mother thought it looked ¡°elegant¡± on me.


    I reached out for the mirror, measuring the distance between it and my body. I slammed my fist into the mirror, shattering the glass all over the floor.


    My father almost broke down the door trying to get in.  ¡°Andi,¡± he said while pounding against the paper-thin door. ¡°Open up the door. What¡¯s happening?¡±


    I opened the door with my good hand. There were strange gashes starting to separate to reveal the layers of my body below. My blood was warm and felt calm as it flowed down my hand. I just held it up.


    ¡°We need to get her to a hospital,¡± my mother said.


    I smiled. Hospitals were where you were never alone.


    My father drove down Fifth Avenue like we had all the time in the world. I had a cloth pressed over my knuckles and I was applying pressure, the way I had been taught. My mother kept turning back from the front seat to see if I was okay and then turning away because she couldn¡¯t stand the sight of blood. I had bled through the cloth and created a tie-dye masterpiece with my blood. My mother stopped turning around and put her head on the cold window. Not once did my father ask if I was okay.


    ¡°So, we were talking about your grades,¡± he said after a few minutes.


    I thought about punching through the window and realized I wouldn¡¯t be able to. Car windows, I had learned, were made out of different, stronger glass.


    ¡°Have they improved?¡±


    I was silent.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a minor anymore,¡± he said through his teeth. ¡°They can only release it to you.¡±


    So he had tried. I knew he had. Why else would he resort to going through me? I played with the threads that were swaying from the bottom of the cloth. I pulled at one and winced. The adrenaline had worn off and I was feeling the pain. I wondered if there was glass still in the wound. That would be awful. The hospital might miss a piece of glass and then my skin would heal over it and get infected and twenty years later it would cause nerve damage and cut through my muscles and then I wouldn¡¯t be able to use my hand and no one would hire me because you can¡¯t hire people who can¡¯t use their hands. Other than professional speakers, and maybe teachers? But they still had to write things down. I would have to learn how to use my left hand for everything and everyone would think that I was slow and had horrible handwriting.


    ¡°Are you listening to me?¡± my father sounded like thunder sometimes. My mother¡¯s twitches were like lightning. You had to count the seconds between them to see how far away the storm was.


    One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississi¡­twitch.


    Close, but still okay.


    ¡°It¡¯s going fine. I have it under control. I have a tutor.¡±


    ¡°A tutor?¡± My mother this time, appalled that I had shown anyone I was less than perfect.


    ¡°Explain fine. Fine is not an answer.¡±


    ¡°Like, decently well. Figuring things out.¡±


    One-Mississipi, two¡­


    ¡°I asked you a question,¡± the thunder rumbled. ¡°I expect you to answer it.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°B-level. It¡¯s not great, but it¡¯s not bad either,¡± I yelled.


    The storm fell away and there was silence. The quiet made my stomach squirm. I knew it couldn¡¯t last for long. My mother had pressed herself against the side of the car, probably doing a trick I had learned from her: making bargains with whoever was up there. I¡¯ll give up this, I¡¯ll be better at this, just please, intervene here. Do something.


    It never worked, but it was a great distraction when you knew something bad was going to happen. But we felt it in the air, the way you know that it¡¯s going to rain after you¡¯ve had surgical metal implanted in you.


    ¡°You are okay with B-level,¡± he said, not a question, a fact.


    ¡°I¡¯m working to change it. But in the meantime, yes,¡± I said. Wrong answer.


    A security guard tapped at our window, reminding us that we were in a parking lot of a very public hospital. My father rolled down the window.


    ¡°How can I help you?¡± The perfect image of charm.


    ¡°Would you folks mind moving up or parking? This is the drop-off lane.¡±


    Even better. I opened the door and got out of the car, safe in the knowledge that my father couldn¡¯t do anything while this guard was next to the car. Had my mother learned the importance of public image from my father or had he learned it from her?


    ¡°I¡¯m being dropped off,¡± I said. ¡°Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re coming in with you,¡± my father said. ¡°Close the door.¡±


    I closed it, making sure my body was on the outside. He sped off, leaving a cloud of dust that sent me sneezing in his wake. I followed the colored signs for the emergency room through winding hallways. There must have been more hallways than patient rooms in the hospital because I kept turning down another one. Perhaps one day, if they built a few more hallways it would look like a game of pick up sticks.


    When I arrived at the welcome desk, I held up my hand, covered in a bloody cloth. It must have looked like I had gotten my hand cut off because the receptionist in front of me lost her cool a little bit.


    ¡°In there,¡± she said. ¡°Go in there. Quickly.¡±


    ¡°My parents are going to come in. Can you keep them out for as long as possible?¡±


    She nodded.


    Being analyzed by a medical professional when you are a medical professional, even a minor one, is quite painful. The guy in front of me would ask me questions and I would have to restrain myself from answering the next ones that I knew he was going to ask.


    He looked up at me after I answered his question before he asked for the seventh time. ¡°Spend a lot of time in hospitals?¡±


    ¡°EMT.¡±


    He nodded his head like a string puppet. Fake respect for the lowest medical provider on the chain. Well, EMRs were lower but only firefighters became EMRs.


    I was sent to Room 410 and asked to remove the bloody cloth from my hand so a nurse could examine it. I felt nostalgic removing the cloth. We had already been through so much together that day. I loved that cloth more than my own mother in that moment. At least the cloth had protected me.


    It took my father all of thirty minutes to get back to my room, past the receptionists. He and my mother walked in, side-by-side, but with a few inches too many between them. A nurse was in the process of cleaning the wounds so she could figure out which needed stitches or glue. Every dab of her cleaning solution sent another jolt through my nerves.


    My mother took to talking to the nurse. ¡°Poor dear; she fell. Clumsiness seems to run in the family.¡± She laughed weakly.


    I saw right through her game. God forbid the nurse leave the room thinking anything but positive thoughts about us.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get it taken care of. There will be a few scars but nothing too noticeable.¡± The nurse stayed very focused on my hand.


    I wanted to give her a hug, a thank you, for appreciating my hand as important. I couldn¡¯t. The nurse would probably think it was weird, but still, it was the thought that counted.


    My father counted the number of individual cuts on my hand, loudly, like he was chronicling my sins. No one but my mother and I would know how angry he was. Any outsider would have looked in on the scene and seen a worried father obsessing over how hurt his daughter was. How I wished it were like that.


    We spent hours at the hospital in complete silence except for the occasional hubbub in the hallway. They treated me and bandaged up my hand to look like a mummy. It was like the time I had wrapped myself in toilet paper and walked around like a zombie. My mother had laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She had let me chase her around the house as I moaned and pretended to be the aggravated dead. My father had come home early that day. My mother had ripped the toilet paper off of me and shoved it in the garbage.


    He had walked in and put his briefcase on his desk. I stood stock still in the corner in the kitchen, hoping that he had had a good day. He had come in and kissed my mother, a peck on the lips. We knew he could sense that something was wrong. He must have felt it in the rigidity of my mother¡¯s back or the size of my eyes.


    ¡°Come over here. Give your father a welcome home hug,¡± he said.


    I took the smallest steps I could to prolong my journey over. He held out his arm and yanked the toilet paper I had taped to my leg to start my mummy costume off.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t look like homework,¡± he said.


    I looked at my mother, hoping she would explain that I was tired and the book report wasn¡¯t due for another four days.


    She stared at the counter like there was something interesting there.


    He threw his briefcase at me, clipping my shoulder as I began to sprint towards my room of my own free will. Later that night, he knocked and I let him in because I had to. He sat on the bed and drowned me in a sea of apologies which I knew I was obligated to accept.


    I loved the silence of the hospital. It was a welcoming thrum, the sound of a good machine, the faithful type you¡¯d find in an old car than never broke down. Everyone knew what to do next. Triage, treat, terminate. And again. I loved the way it made my father seem washed out and small. He kept trying to tell the nurses that he was almost a doctor, because he¡¯d done pre-med in college, they brushed him off. He got antsy, walking in and out of the room, sometimes disappearing for an hour at a time, returning in a cloud of smoke. Where he found the cigarettes, I don¡¯t know. This was supposed to be a hospital. Didn¡¯t the people who worked there understand the health ramifications?

 Chapter 59

    My parents brought me back to my dorm once the hospital had discharged me. I said goodbye to them. My father said ¡°see you tomorrow¡± but instead of being comforting it sounded like a warning. I trudged up the stairs to my room where Ruby was waiting.


    ¡°What the hell happened?¡± she said.


    ¡°You got that right,¡± I said.


    ¡°There¡¯s glass everywhere. Why didn¡¯t you tell me? I could have hurt myself.¡±


    I revealed my neon white boxing glove hand.


    ¡°It was intentional?¡± She paused. ¡°Did they give you any drugs?


    ¡°Just a prescription for extra strong Advil, some local anesthetic.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said your parents were coming,¡± she said, going to the door and looking both ways.


    ¡°They did,¡± I said.


    ¡°You have major issues. Will you at least pay for the mirror?¡±


    I nodded, unsurprised.


    * * *


    At dinner the next day, my father ordered a bottle of wine with authority. A full-bodied red, he said.


    ¡°May I recommend the 2007?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll do,¡± he said.


    I waited until he was a glass in. Then, I thought, better wait for two. My mother ate in silence. My father supplied the conversation, which consisted mainly of how difficult his work was and how grateful I should be for his work.


    ¡°I¡¯ve decided I¡¯m going to be a doctor,¡± I said.


    He finished a sip and trained his gaze on me. ¡°A doctor, huh.¡±


    I cut another piece of my deconstructed chicken Parmesan, holding my knife like it would come alive any second because of my injury.


    ¡°You know that requires good grades, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I wondered if he really did think I was stupid.


    ¡°A toast,¡± he said, hoisting up his glass. ¡°To my daughter¡¯s success!¡±


    My mother and I hesitantly raised our water glasses and clinked with his. I wished my brother could be here to see this but they had left him home so he wouldn¡¯t miss any school. He would have loved that my plan was working! My father had accepted my proposal and his demeanor had changed as a result. The rest of the night was a warm glow. My father called for another wine glass and the waitress hurried over to bring it. As the red liquid splashed down my throat I thought, I should have done this sooner. My mother smiled at me and at my father, her light mixing with ours.


    They drove me home and I climbed into bed knowing I had done something right. I was on the path to being successful and successful meant happy. I was going to be happy.


    I woke up to a hard rap on the door. ¡°Who is it?¡± I said, the high altitude of the bunk bed addling my brain functions.


    ¡°Open the door, Andrea.¡±


    I shot up. My real father was back. ¡°One second!¡±


    I fell down the ladder and scuttled to the door. ¡°Is everything okay?¡± I rubbed my shoulder to brush off the chill that had settled.


    ¡°Your mother and I are going home,¡± he said. ¡°You have a big dream, Andi. I¡¯m disappointed you haven¡¯t been trying harder.¡±


    ¡°I have¡­¡± I stuttered. Stupid stutter.


    ¡°Your grades are abhorrent and you insist on traipsing around with this crew of do-nothings. This just won¡¯t do if being a doctor is what you want.¡±


    There was no more discussion on the matter. He was right as always and one of the few who could perform my nightmares for me in real life. I played out my part, locked in place in front of them. My mother kissed my right temple, her way of saying sorry. My father gave a curt nod. I waved to them and went to push the door closed. My father reached out and closed it for me. I searched for my life control system. I had lost it in a flash of lightning.


    * * *


    A week later, EMS had to make plans for getting to the conference. Because I had been ignoring EMS and the planning process, I had last pick of cars. I ended up in the middle seat between Lily and Ruby, directly behind Carl and Akul, fifth wheeling an unsteady car like it was my job. Everyone was excited, and like puppies that haven¡¯t been house trained, no one could control themselves for long enough to keep from making a mess.


    ¡°What would you like to do when we get there, Ruby? Anything you want to see lecture-wise?¡± Akul asked, his sincerity sending a pang through me like a cramp.


    ¡°Whatever,¡± Ruby said. ¡°Probably dance and drink and avoid all the lectures.¡±


    ¡°I want to see the lectures,¡± Lily cut in, trying to make Akul feel better.


    Carl, sensing that the focus had shifted away from him said ¡°Of course you do, teacher¡¯s pet.¡±


    Lily averted her gaze and sunk into her silence. I resisted the urge to open the door and throw myself onto the smoothly paved highway.


    I suggested music, which was the only thing everyone could agree on. No one could agree on what music to listen to, so I guided Akul in choosing a neutral pop station.


    When we arrived at the hotel in which the EMS conference was held, everyone put their happy faces back on. There were escalators after all. Who could be unhappy on an escalator? We rode up three flights, crisscrossing with other hotel goers as we went up and they traveled down. I extended my arm to touch a golden chandelier that was just out of reach. The lobby was filled with college EMS providers sporting their school''s¡¯ colors and uniforms. In one corner, a group from one school was admiring the folding trauma shears of the other school. In another, someone who had cut her foot was surrounded by fifteen service providers all playing whose certification is higher.


    Lily, Ruby and I headed to a room that we were to share. In the elevators, we were greeted by more people our age carrying cases of beer. They smiled and asked us where we were going.  Ruby and Lily answered and we discovered that we were all on the same floor. We discovered that the hotel had filled each room on our floor with a group of people from the various EMS groups that were there. To keep us quiet, I said. To let us be loud, Ruby countered.


    While they changed their clothes, I took a look at the schedule: nonstop lectures until 8 pm and each lecture slot had four subject options. Perfect, the likelihood that I would have to spend enormous amounts of time sitting around with the EMS people was low. I don¡¯t know if I could handle being in the same room with John at the same time that I was in the room with Jacob and Ruby AND Sandy. I highlighted the ones that I wanted to go to and then fanned myself with the program. I watched Ruby and Lily finish dressing. They slid into their clothes as if they were dancing, instantly looking more beautiful and put together. I was never that graceful wearing clothes. In fact, my dressing process looked like the cha cha slide.


    That night, the conference had set up activities for us, probably to keep us from leaving the hotel and terrorizing the city¡¯s residents. There was a dance party, banner decorating contests, and a competition to see who could perform the best CPR. People at both contests were hunched over in their concentration. Everything was life or death to them. We all partook in the CPR contest but ignored the banner making, where EMS providers were frantically drawing stars of life on any white space they could find.


    When we entered the dance, I was surprised at how high school it all felt. Everyone was much older, there was a significant amount of alcohol involved now, but it all looked the same. Everyone was jumping up and down to music blasting from speakers that could actually force you backwards with sound. We found our group and joined them in jumping up and down. I saw John making his way across the dance floor. Girls and guys alike were stopping him and asking for the tube coming out of his backpack.  Finally, he reached us.


    ¡°What is that?¡± I said.


    ¡°A camelback filled with vodka,¡± he said. ¡°Want a syringe Jell-O shot?¡±


    I took the red Jell-O shot he offered but refused the camelback.  I wasn¡¯t ready to drink from something everyone on this dance floor had drunk from. I wasn¡¯t drunk enough yet. I took two more syringes.  Emboldened, I took John¡¯s hand and guided him to a more open spot on the dance floor. He twirled me around and we danced as the world spun around us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ruby and Akul arguing just off of the dance floor. Lily was being dragged around the room with Carl who couldn¡¯t make up his mind about what he wanted to do. As the music transitioned into a slow song, John held out his hand to me.


    I accepted it and we swayed back and forth to the melodramatic melodies of the love song. His shoulders felt solid underneath my touch and I longed for what we had had before, wished everything could be simpler. His face had softened, as it sometimes became after he had had a few drinks. This version of him was what I had fallen for in the first place. He never hid his feelings the way I did. It was almost like he couldn¡¯t, like they spilled out of him on a glorious wave he could ride.


    Suddenly, a dancer rammed into me on the dance floor. It was Sandy.


    ¡°Why is she always so upset?¡± I said.


    ¡°Seniors don¡¯t like having their lives change during their last year.¡±


    ¡°She is really dangerous.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°She¡¯s not dangerous. She¡¯s just older than you are. The best thing to do right now is avoid her.¡±


    ¡°You or me?¡± I said.


    ¡°Both,¡± he cracked his knuckles. ¡°It¡¯s hard to be friends with her when she¡¯s like this.¡±


    I tried not to, but I felt bad for her. I knew that all she wanted was John¡¯s attention back, but I didn¡¯t want her to have it at my expense. She had made it very clear where she drew the line. I was happy to stay on one side of it when it meant being pummeled by rocks every time I tried to go near it. Lily tugged on my arm. I raised my eyebrows, hoping she understood what I was asking. At this point, the DJ had turned the speakers to maximum volume. I couldn¡¯t myself lucky that I didn¡¯t fall over every time I lifted my feet off the ground. The floor was like a trampoline. It was never where I thought it would be.


    She ran her fingers down her face from her eyes to her chin. Crying, I thought. Who¡¯s crying?


    She made her fingers on both hands into the sign for good pasta in Italian and began to smush them together like they were kissing passionately. Got it.


    Someone is crying and making out, I thought. What a weird combination. Lily tugged on my arm again. I grabbed John¡¯s arm and followed Lily off of the dance floor. We moved as a chain, each dragged forward by the other¡¯s desire to have some support in the coming situation. Outside, I felt like my ears were filled with indelible cotton. I¡¯m never going to be able to hear well again, I thought. Good bye not having to ask people what they said¡­again.


    ¡°Lily, Lily,¡± I said. ¡°Explain using words now.¡±


    ¡°Everyone is making out and crying,¡± she said.


    I laughed. ¡°Will you be on my charades team?¡± The Jell-O shots were kicking in and the situation was not one that I could take seriously.


    ¡°Specifically Sandy and Ruby,¡± Lily said. ¡°But I only care about Ruby. Sandy¡¯s a bitch.¡±


    ¡°What is happening?¡± My head spun a little, not at exorcist level, but still.


    ¡°And Akul might start crying soon.¡±


    That¡¯s when John inserted himself into the conversation. ¡°Why would Akul be crying?¡±


    In that second, I knew why Akul might be crying. And it was our fault. Ruby¡¯s fault first, but then ours. And guilt was like a piece of toilet paper stuck to our shoes.


    ¡°Someone fill me in,¡± John said, using his I¡¯m-your-superior-in-command voice.


    ¡°Um, you know Jacob?¡± Lily said.


    ¡°Oh fuck.¡± He let go of my hand. ¡°We need to get there.¡± He sped up to the point where we were running behind him to keep up. A fixer, off to fix things.


    When we arrived, it was exactly as I pictured. Sandy was on a bed, blubbering into Jacob¡¯s arms. Ruby was standing with one foot in and one foot out of the bathroom where beer was chilling in the bathtub. There were empty glasses from previous revelry on every empty surface.


    Upon seeing John, Sandy slowed her crying.


    ¡°Jacob. Outside,¡± John said.


    He dropped Sandy and rushed to follow John¡¯s already retreating back.


    Which left Lily and I in a room with Ruby and Sandy, which honestly, was the last place I wanted to be that night.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Akul?¡± I said.


    ¡°Probably still dancing without a care in the world,¡± Ruby said.


    ¡°What were you thinking, Ruby?¡± Lily said. She was quiet, not accusatory.


    ¡°I wanted someone who wanted me, you know?¡± Ruby said, on the verge of tears.


    ¡°Sweetie,¡± Lily said and ran to her trying to keep the tears at bay with a hug.


    I stood still, conflicted as to who I should be comforting. It¡¯s not like it didn¡¯t make sense to me. I knew that Ruby wanted what she wanted and couldn¡¯t help herself. But I also felt pity for Akul and his situation. But no one liked to be pitied so I decided that comforting Ruby was the best I could do.


    ¡°Maybe next time you can tell him before you sleep with someone else,¡± I said. To this day, I¡¯m still not sure if I was trying to be comforting.


    Ruby didn¡¯t take it well.


    ¡°How dare you? You, who stands in a house of glass?¡±


    ¡°You could have just called me a hypocrite,¡± I said, annoyed that this was happening, annoyed that this was happening in front of Sandy.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me do this,¡± she said.


    I shrugged. I had told everyone I cared about knowing.


    ¡°You don¡¯t care that you were with Flint while you were still with John?¡±


    ¡°I care, but it¡¯s not as bad as knowingly cheating on someone just because you didn¡¯t have the guts to tell him you were done.¡± I felt like a child stomping my foot. I would not be refuted.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize there were levels of betrayal. I think there is just one. It¡¯s like a light switch, on or off,¡± she pleaded.


    ¡°Yours was premeditated,¡± I said.


    ¡°And yours wasn¡¯t?¡± She realized she wasn¡¯t going to get sympathy by pretending to be a victim.


    ¡°Of course it wasn¡¯t.¡± I ignored the sick feeling in my stomach that perhaps she was right. Was she right?


    I thought back to the kiss, the start. I had wanted to be close to Flint at that time. I had felt him slipping away but had I planned it?


    Sensing weakness, Sandy began to text. John threw open the door, Jacob hot on his shadow. He looked around, as if trying to locate a fire.  Jacob entered the room and endured our awkward stares as we sized up the competition for Akul. Too skinny, too pale, too close. Hadn¡¯t Jacob and Akul been friends before EMS? Perhaps they had been friends the way Ruby and I were friends, tentative crutches when the time called for it. Maybe that¡¯s what Ruby had needed Jacob for.


    ¡°What is it? What¡¯s wrong?¡± John said.


    ¡°Tell him,¡± Sandy prompted me.


    ¡°I was with Flint while we were together. I told you this already. Then you crashed the car and I ended up with a concussion.¡±


    ¡°Now do you see?¡± Sandy began. She stopped mid-sentence. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Your bomb has been diffused, Sandy,¡± I said. ¡°But you sure have shown me your true colors.¡±


    John looked at me, probably unsure as to whether to be mad at me all over again by the revelation. Ruby looked pleased with herself, sitting in Lily¡¯s arms. The only thing that could make the situation worse would be if Akul walked in.


    And then he did.


    I have never seen so many people forget their problems so completely at one moment than what I saw in that room. I watched Ruby for signs of remorse. She shrunk back behind Lily and tried to make her body into a ball like an armadillo. Akul was intoxicated but it was clear that the alcohol had focused rather than dulled his senses. John took a small step forward, ready to jump between Akul and whoever he tried to go after first. Jacob shifted his body so the majority was behind Sandy.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t anyone tell me?¡±


    It took him five words to rip open my guilt so it was fresh and oozing. I looked at Lily. She looked away, still nervous about standing between Akul and Ruby.


    ¡°It¡¯s not so hard. Someone could have said ¡°your girlfriend and Jacob are sleeping together.  Or one of the parties involved could have had the guts to tell me to my face instead of sneaking around behind my back.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to hurt you,¡± I said.


    ¡°Of course it was going to hurt. But didn¡¯t I deserve the courtesy of knowing?¡±


    We all stared at the floor, experiencing the kind of yelling that we experienced from our parents when we were children playing ball in the house and something broke. When they found out, it wasn¡¯t about breaking the object anymore, because we had done something worse, lied about it so we didn¡¯t get in trouble. ¡°It¡¯s about respect,¡± my father used to say to me. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you love me. You will respect me.¡±


    Akul turned his attention on Ruby. ¡°Was I not enough?¡±


    Everyone stopped breathing, afraid of making a sound and missing what she said next.


    ¡°You were only one person,¡± Ruby said. ¡°How could you be?¡±


    Which sent thoughts racing through my temple. Had I been leading Flint on because John wasn¡¯t enough? Had I led John on when Flint wasn¡¯t enough? What was enough? I had the strong desire to find a corner of the room and put my face in the darkness, where no one would be able to access my thoughts or feelings.


    ¡°They¡¯re all like that,¡± Sandy said.


    Akul shrugged his shoulders and said, ¡°I guess so.¡± He and Sandy walked over to the TV stand that had been repurposed as a makeshift bar, poured out two shots of tequila and knocked them back, no lime, no salt.


    ¡°Again,¡± Akul said.


    They knocked back another shot while we all watched, watched what seemed like the funeral of something.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think of coming to my room tonight,¡± Akul said to Ruby.


    Lily began to stroke Ruby¡¯s arm, hoping the friction would help. Sandy stayed, an unfortunate byproduct of John still being in the room.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get you to sleep,¡± I said. ¡°All non-essential personnel please leave the scene.¡±


    Jacob cracked a quick smile at my attempt at lightening the mood. Sandy shot him a look and his smile disappeared down the rabbit hole. Everyone filed out of the room until it was just myself, Lily, Ruby and John.


    John pulled me aside and looked into my eyes like I had gone through a terrible trauma.


    ¡°Can I help?¡± John said.


    ¡°I guess,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what she needs. I don¡¯t know what Akul needs either.¡±


    ¡°He needs space,¡± he said. ¡°The same way you do sometimes when you¡¯re upset.¡±


    I rolled my shoulders, trying to move some of the discomfort I felt from John knowing me so well behind me. ¡°Did I betray him?¡±


    ¡°We all should have told him.¡±


    ¡°You knew.¡± Of course. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to miss the signs. We work in what is the equivalent of a one bedroom apartment that¡¯s been shrunk by a ray gun.¡±


    Kind of like the room we were in. I started to feel a little better as the blame and guilt started being spread around.


    ¡°Ruby should have told him when it happened. Akul¡¯s right.¡±


    I felt like ants were crawling up my spine. ¡°She probably didn¡¯t think it would happen again after the first time.¡± Who are we talking about? I wanted to ask, but it would have been too blunt and what if he was just talking about Ruby and Akul.


    ¡°He probably would have been okay with it,¡± he said. ¡°The action, that is.¡±


    I nodded and looked away, uncertain as to what my face looked like.


    ¡°The lie is so much worse.¡±


    ¡°He never asked her,¡± I said. ¡°It was an omission, not a lie.¡±


    ¡°He should have said ¡°Hi baby, have you cheated on me recently? Also, how about mac and cheese for dinner?¡± He scoffed like my suggestion had been more ridiculous than pumpkin spice flavored oreos.


    With each phrase, John was taking an unconscious, tiny step forward and I found myself with no more room to move back to compensate. I shifted my shoulders to my right, hoping my hips would follow.


    ¡°It¡¯s disgusting,¡± John said.


    I stopped nodding, knowing my initial instinct had been right. Ruby and Akul were tangential to this conversation.


    ¡°Lily!¡± Carl called, as if he were calling an unruly pet that had run away in the park.


    She followed his voice out of the room faster than Ruby or I could recognize what was happening. We shared a worried glance; roommate telepathy is actually a thing. John left, trailing small friction fires in the carpet. Ruby and I just sat there, staring at each other. We were too dumbfounded by the turn of events to speak, silently bonded in our worry for what would come back with Lily. When she did return, it did not take us long to find out.


    ¡°He called me a cunt,¡± she wailed, covering her face with her hands.


    ¡°I thought no one was allowed to use that word.¡±


    ¡°Why did he do that, Lily?¡± I said.


    ¡°He said it was because I danced with other guys downstairs.¡±


    ¡°He was dancing with other girls¡­¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she sobbed.


    I wondered what small city we could destroy with our respective shit shows.


    ¡°I need to go to the bathroom,¡± she said, pushing past both of us and our problems.


    She slammed the door shut and we waited, steeping in the hot water that had boiled around us. We listened to her muffled screams for a while, then the sound of the faucet washing her tears down the sink. Then nothing. I didn¡¯t realize it for a few minutes because I had accustomed myself to the crying so much that it had become background noise. I shot up on the bed.


    ¡°You think she¡¯s okay?¡± I said to Ruby.


    ¡°No,¡± Ruby said.


    I rushed to the door and tried to open it. Locked, of course. ¡°Lily, can you open the door?¡±

 Chapter 60

    ¡°I just want to be alone,¡± she said.


    Why, I thought. Isn¡¯t that the last thing you want to be right now? Isn¡¯t that what you¡¯re crying about? ¡°It¡¯ll just be really quick,¡± I said. ¡°I promise.¡±


    I heard the door¡¯s lock click to the open position. I burst in and, while simultaneously checking for external wounds, I collected all the medicine, our razors from the shower and any mildly pointy items. She stared at me without acknowledging my presence the whole time. I nodded to her and left the room, holding all of my objects in the fold of my shirt. The lock clicked again behind me.  In that moment, I realized the glass could be shattered and used as a weapon if Lily chose to go to war with herself. I knocked again.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°One more thing,¡± I said.


    She unlocked the door. I nabbed the two glasses off of the side of the sink. She raised one eyebrow.


    ¡°I¡¯m thirsty,¡± I said.


    She laughed, painfully, like she couldn¡¯t quite form the right sound.


    We stayed up until five a.m. that morning. I spent the time fading between alertness and a fuzzy grayness as the sky turned from dawn to day. Ruby and I shared a bed, neither one of us wanting to be in a big, cold bed alone. I woke up every time she cursed and struck out with his fists. When I was awake, I was constantly thinking about Flint and how he was doing. I wondered if he would have known what to say to Lily to draw her out of the bathroom. All I could think of was, ¡°Breakfast is here!¡± like I was the cook in some farmhouse banging a gong. She didn¡¯t have windows, there was no way for her to tell whether it was morning or night.


    Ruby rose as well. ¡°It is not¡­¡±


    I sat Lily down on the bed. ¡°What are you going to do, Lily?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°I...Where...Where¡¯s my phone?¡±


    I smiled. A child of the new millenium. First thing when she comes to, she wants to check her phone.


    I shuffled to the dresser, picked up her phone and tossed it towards Lily¡¯s lap.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°How do I start?¡± she said.


    ¡°We¡¯re over.¡± I said.


    ¡°I can¡¯t give you any more chances,¡± Ruby said.


    Lily jumped in. ¡°I was the only one who believed in you. I hope someday you¡¯ll understand how much pain you caused, but I won¡¯t be there.¡±


    We fell asleep two hours before our alarm went off. When we woke up, I realized Lily had slipped in between us on the bed. I wished we could all stay in this space, between chaos and resolution, night and day, anger and forgiveness. But it could not last and our alarm went off, encouraging us to shower before we showed our faces in front of every college EMS provider and their medical command physicians.


    * * *


    I felt like someone had packed sponges in my brain and poured syrup all over my body in the night. That is to say, I did not need encouragement to shower. We used up every second before arriving, only slightly disheveled at the lectures on the first convention level. Ruby shot off to go to Leaders of EMS, which she reminded me, that she was. I hesitated to remind her what else she was.


    ¡°You ready?¡± Lily said, already dragging me towards a room. ¡°Hand traumas. They¡¯re going to teach us about hand traumas.¡±


    No one has ever said that sentence to me with more joy.


    We bopped from lecture to lecture, soaking up knowledge from each person and their specialized skills. We learned about oxygen saturation and when to actually apply oxygen to patients, what to do when you¡¯re a medical provider on a plane, and about the worst kinds of alcohol intoxications. I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about John and Flint and Akul and Ruby. How had it gotten so complicated?


    ¡°Andi,¡± Lily said.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡±


    I grimaced.


    At lunch, I tried to convince myself that everything was alright. And it was, between myself Ruby and Lily. But when Akul, John and Sandy walked in, it became abundantly clear that it wasn¡¯t.


    They sat beside us and didn¡¯t speak for the entire meal. That began the trend for the weekend, in which everyone who knew us ignored us.  Lily was ignored because they were afraid she would burst into tears at any moment. I was ignored because Sandy had gotten John to be mad at me. And Ruby was ignored because Akul had chosen shunning as his punishment for betrayal. It started a trend for the rest of the weekend. We went to lectures and no one spoke to us. We went to their rooms to drink at night and no one spoke to us. I began to feel like I lived in a bubble. My head started to feel like my whole world, my imagination my only friend.


    We arrived at school in one piece. When we backed up in the shoulder on the freeway, I was afraid we would die in some fiery death and the headline would read ¡°EMT¡¯s fight to save EMT¡¯s but who can help those who can¡¯t help themselves.¡± I tried to talk to John, but he refused to acknowledge me. The only thing I heard him say was ¡°this is what you do to everyone else.¡±


    I thought that was a little unfair but I didn¡¯t say anything. Starting rows in cars was not something I was accustomed to doing. A remnant of driving in a car with my dad. In a car, I was never more than an arm¡¯s length away and therefore never had the upper hand.

 Chapter 61

    June


    As the frost parted to make way for a new season, the tree branches reached out their tendrils and began to caress the other foliage around them, interlocking their fingers for a joyous dance. I began to feel lighter than air. My parents hadn¡¯t been in contact for weeks. Everyone in EMS had been avoiding each other, which meant radio silence from that end; a silver lining to everyone hating each other was that there was no new drama to deal with. And it was my brother¡¯s birthday. He was turning fourteen. He had called me from school the other day to tell me that he had news: that he was going to tell the family when they came to pick me up from college.


    ¡°I want you to be there,¡± he said. ¡°For support.¡±


    We both knew what he was talking about, I much more than him.


    ¡°I miss hearing your cello, you know, when I fall asleep.¡±


    ¡°This awful racket?¡± I said, running my fingers over the strings of my cello while it rested against my bed.


    He didn¡¯t laugh. I¡¯ll admit, it wasn¡¯t a very good joke.


    ¡°It will be okay,¡± I said. ¡°Everything will be okay.¡±


    And that¡¯s probably why it happened. Because you should never say that it¡¯s okay. Anytime someone in a movie says ¡°I¡¯ll see you later¡± or ¡°I¡¯ll be okay¡±, something terrible happens.  You would think I would have learned my lesson.


    * * *


    My grades turned around. Well, they turned up. Around implies drastic progress. I didn¡¯t fail my classes. It was enough to get off of probation and back into the University¡¯s lukewarm graces. I vowed to work harder next semester, to keep my involvement with EMS to a minimum. Finn took the credit for my uptick in academic standing. I let him, knowing that I wouldn¡¯t always have him there to guide me along. I would have to be able to support myself, something I had too often over the past year felt too weak to do.  I sealed closed the old me, shoving my hurricane away breath by breath. I think Finn saw the change because he stopped being as guarded with me, ceased sharpening his questions to a point.


    ¡°Do you ever want to talk to someone about it?¡± John said one day. ¡°I hear it¡¯s unhealthy to keep that shit inside.¡±


    I sunk back into my memories of my therapist, the one with all the answers, the one who wouldn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know where to begin.¡± I said. It was the truth.


    * * *


    My parents let Sammy stay with me when they came. ¡°A set of helping hands for finishing the packing process,¡± my mother said.  I hadn¡¯t packed a single thing. I wanted Sammy to see my room as it was before it got stored in cardboard boxes. ¡°Your father doesn¡¯t feel great so we¡¯re going to rest at the hotel. He works so hard.¡± How quickly packing me up to leave school had become about him.


    Sammy immediately gravitated to the cello and I realized that he was taller than it. I had always teased him that even my instrument was bigger than he was, but there he was, growing like a weed. He plucked a few strings. I don¡¯t think he was sure where to start.


    ¡°Do you want me to teach you a song?¡± I said. ¡°Or a scale,¡± I offered when he looked up.


    ¡°I think I can play something. I¡¯ve been filling in for people in orchestra when they get sick.¡±


    I nodded, another thing my father would have tried to suppress in his son. It was a miracle Sammy had remained such a gentle soul.


    He began to pick out Ode to Joy. He stumbled at first, warming up to it.


    I floated on the notes, letting my brother musical talent wash over me. What a happy song, I thought. And he was playing really well. I wondered if he really had only been playing here and there. He finished and I applauded, trying to make the sound fill the room. There should have been hundreds there to hear him.


    He bowed, self-conscious.


    ¡°You¡¯re good.¡± I said, masking my surprise. ¡°If you like it, you should keep it up.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± he said.


    * * *


    Ruby came to the room only to get her stuff. Her parents were moving it all to storage because she wasn¡¯t going to need much of it. They had duplicates of everything.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Ruby said. ¡°Good luck next year. I know we won¡¯t be living together but I hope I still get to see you.¡±


    ¡°You still want to see me?¡± I realized that I might want to see her as well.


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯ll be better next year. Living with strangers¡­It is great at the beginning and then everyone relaxes. Then the whole deal goes to shit.¡±


    I smiled. It felt good. ¡°What are you doing this summer?¡±


    ¡°Traveling, probably updating my resume and guzzling freedom until school starts again. You?


    ¡°Classes, I think. I have to get back to where I should be if I want to be a doctor.¡±


    ¡°Ugh. Summer classes. The thought makes me ill.¡± Her eyes grew bored. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around.¡±


    I watched her retreat and thought about how her response should have been what I was feeling. After all, I was the one who had to take the classes. I wanted to take the classes though. It felt right for the first time in a long time. It was my choice.


    * * *


    Sammy and I walked to my parents'' hotel room at the Shadyside Inn to save my father the trip. My mother had asked over the phone. Maybe we could pick up Chinese on the way? We weren¡¯t going out tonight. We ordered our favorites, a series of fried meats covered in sauces, noodles, rice, a vegetable dish for our mother. I gave my brother a spontaneous hug, remembering back a few years to when we had last ordered takeout together, the thrill of being entrusted completely with a task that we considered so crucial. We traipsed down Forbes and Fifth to collect the food, me trying to guess what it was that he wanted to tell our parents, him asking me about landmarks, about college about life after our family.


    He stopped outside their hotel room. ¡°You¡¯ll be there, right? For support?¡±


    I set the Chinese food down and hugged him. ¡°You can count on it.¡±


    My parents let us in to the room and I set up the table, laying out forks and napkins, plates and knives. I opened up cartons, releasing their pressured steam into the air. My brother fluttered at my side. I stole glances at him in between tasks. His eyes were fixed on my father who was making his way to the table. My mother pulled out a chair for him and he sat down with a thump.


    ¡°My back is killing me,¡± he said.  ¡°What did you get?¡± He gestured to the assortment that Sammy and I had collected on our way over.


    ¡°The usual favorites, plus some shrimp spring rolls.¡± My father put a finger in his mouth like he was going to throw up.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to eat them,¡± I said. ¡°We didn¡¯t buy them for you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my money, isn¡¯t it?¡± He said, grabbing one from the bag.


    My mother sat across from him, leaving Sammy and I to take the seats in between at a table where our knees were all touching.


    ¡°I have an announcement,¡± Sammy said.


    ¡°How did the packing go?¡± my mother said at same time.


    I ignored my mother. My vision tunneled on Sammy. My father finished pouring fried rice onto his plate, set it down slowly and took a bite.


    ¡°What?¡± A few grains of rice fell from my father¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°You know Mr. Pren, the orchestra teacher?¡± Sammy said.


    ¡°What about him?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been helping out with some of the music stuff lately. A lot of kids have been missing practice or getting sick. I¡¯ve been filling in to help out.¡±


    My father stopped eating.


    ¡°And he said that I¡¯m really good. A natural, he said actually. He talked to some teachers at Interlochen, sent them some videos of me playing.¡± We were all staring at this point. ¡°Anyway, they want me to come for next year. They think I could be really good.¡±


    There was complete silence. I grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed. I could barely contain my excitement. He could go to Interlochen where he could board. He could learn how to play music and move people¡¯s emotions. He could be Beethoven.


    My father grabbed his arm, tearing him out of his seat. ¡°How long have you known?¡± My hand hovered in air and then dropped.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you would be happy.¡±


    ¡°You go behind our back! You¡¯re too young to be making these decisions for yourself.¡± He dragged him towards the bedroom, with Sammy¡¯s arm twisted behind his back. My mother stared at the ground, her usual position. I stood up, tangling myself in my chair and almost falling. I hurtled forwards, towards my father and Sammy.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch him.¡±


    At the sound of my voice, he stopped. Or was it. Sammy wriggled out of his grip. My father rested his back against the wall, glancing around like the hallway was closing in on him. He breathed hard, struggling to inhale. He slid down to the ground and lost consciousness. I shook him, sternal rubbed. No response. I checked his breathing and his pulse. Nothing, absence. My mother peered around the corner, confused and emboldened by the silence.


    She started breathing like my father before he had passed out. ¡°We have to call someone.¡±


    ¡°An ambulance,¡± I said on autopilot. ¡°We have to call an ambulance.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an EMT. It¡¯s your job to help him.¡±


    An EMT¡¯s responsibility on scene is to provide care as a first responder, to assess vital signs, to understand the patient¡¯s history. We¡¯re there to provide relief, to mitigate severe symptoms. I had figured out the vitals signs. I knew what was going on. I knew his history. I knew I was there to do what any reasonably competent provider would. I was there to help. But help who.

 Chapter 62

    July


    I¡¯m sitting in Phipps conservatory now, losing track of time and my place in it, catching my reflection in the lithe glass sculptures and floral scents. It¡¯s one of the only places where I feel like I¡¯m bordering on peace. The way Alaska borders on Russia. It¡¯s close enough. There are children circling empty strollers everywhere as their parents struggle to herd them through. Turning right, right, right, again, again, again. I¡¯m not part of the flow. I stand outside it, with the gardeners. They see the garden for what it is, nature, but curated nature, almost an art form. Some people would prefer not to think about the work that goes into it, but I think it makes it more beautiful. It¡¯s the fact that so many people put their work into arranging each flower into the perfect orientation. I think the gardeners think that way too. They see how far the flowers have come, how they¡¯re better together, symbiotic symbols.


    My father made it through his heart attack. The paramedics commended me for starting quality CPR so soon after my father went down. They said that was why he lived. I¡¯ll never forgive myself for that, for doing the right thing. But he was softer afterwards, quieter. He started taking medication for depression after they released him from the hospital. My mother tried to remove anything sad from his path before he saw it. He definitely wasn¡¯t allowed to read the news. Sammy didn¡¯t get to go to boarding school for music. But he arranged to spend most of his nights at his friends¡¯ houses. He always had a change of underwear and a toothbrush in his backpack. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    When I come home, my father stares at me now like he stared at those paramedics who rescued my brother. And my mother calls me when she¡¯s worried now. She also calls me when she gets paper cuts or stubs her toe.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you can¡¯t tell me what¡¯s wrong. You¡¯re basically a doctor, right?¡± she says.


    Which is when I remind her how many years still stand between me and a medical degree. ¡°Ask me again then,¡± I say, hoping I will come up with an excuse by then to not be responsible for her every ailment.


    My brother is coming to visit my university next week, to check out the classes and activities. I won¡¯t be here when he becomes a freshman. We just missed each other. He¡¯s going to be a professional musician, he said to me the other day. I think I¡¯ll be a professional one day, I said in response.


    I¡¯m up now. I¡¯m walking through Phipps turning right, right, right. I¡¯m tired of watching the dug up dirt. Instead, I watch the children circle their strollers, orienting themselves in their familial orbit. I take it one step at a time, forward and right. My hurricane and I, we¡¯re part of the flow.