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Zara.
What state are you in?
Maine. Or consciousness?
Funny. Nice sarcasm, miss. Although you have learned from the best. She starts to
smile and then gets professional again. Were you thrown?
I don t understand.
From the vehicle, she explains. Were you thrown?
No
Her eyes narrow the way they do when she s trying to figure things out. The wind whips
her gray hair straight above her head. How d you get all the way over here, then?
I I
I must take too long, because she interrupts me. Did you move her, Nick?
Nick shakes his head gently, I guess so he doesn t hurt me too much. I wasn t here
when it happened. She was tinked.
Betty nods really quickly and switches gears. Where s it hurt?
My arm. The one I broke. My chest. My head and neck. It s not too bad, though, I
explain as Betty directs the other EMT, this tall guy, Keith, who has movie-star hair and a
very bad chin. They get a gurney-bed thing out.
We re going to move her, Betty tells Nick.
Excuse me. I am not her . And I m right here. And I can walk, I complain,
struggling to get up.
No. Betty slaps a big, ugly neck collar on me.
I didn t break my neck, I insist as they lift me up.
I m not taking any chances, she states. Her boots clomp down in the snow, hard and
no-nonsense.
Nick gives me a sympathetic glance. He almost looks like he s going to laugh. I twitch
my nose at him, which makes him smile.
Can I go in the ambulance with her? he asks.
Betty thinks about it for a second.
I can walk, I say again. People are staring at me.
Firefighters are not people. Firefighters are professionals, and it is their job to stare.
Yes, you can come, Nick, Betty says just as Issie and Devyn pull up. Issie flies out of
the car and rushes toward us.
Oh man, Zara! Did the pixies do this? Is blurts out.
Keith s head whips up and his mouth drops open. He stares at her. Pixies?
The rock group, Betty covers. Zara listens to music far too loud. The Pixies are one
of the old alternative groups from the 1980 s.
Very retro, Is says, trying to cover up. Very old school. But hip. Yeah. Zara s hip.
Oh man, Zara, did you break your hip?
Nick s hand lands on Issie s shoulder. Is, take a deep breath.
Deep breath?
Inhale and exhale, Nick says calmly.
Some firefighters start yelling. There s a heavy knocking sound by Yoko s remains and
then the clanking of metal hitting metal, the whirling of water through hoses. Nick shifts
his weight and keeps talking to Issie like nothing else is happening. And maybe take a
step back so they can get Zara in the ambulance.
She s going in the ambulance! Issie exclaims. She reaches out and grabs my hand.
We ll follow you the whole way. We ll be right behind you. Do not worry. Okay? No
worrying.
Breathe, Issie. I m okay. I smile and squeeze her hand for a second before I let go.
No hips broken. No massive concussions.
Thank God for small miracles, Betty mutters as they lift me into the back. She slides in
next to me. Everything is tight space and instruments, drawers full of medicine and
needles, just enough supplies to keep people alive and stabilized until they get to a
hospital. Nick hauls himself inside too. He bens his head so he can fit.
The moment Keith gets into the driver s seat Betty mumbles so only I can hear, You are
going to tell me exactly what happened, right?
I try to nod but it s hard with the silly neck brace thing. I m sorry about the car, Gram.
The car, my dear, is the least of my worries. She says. Then she does a very un-Betty
thing. She leans over and kisses my cheek. Her lips are soft and dry. You are going to
be the death of me.
She chuckles. I m on my back, staring up at their faces. The light is so fluorescent bright
that I can make out their pores, Nick s individual eyebrow hairs. So many people have
been in this ambulance dying. Some of them Betty has saved. She is a hero. So is Nick,
taking down so many pixies all by himself and never complaining, just trying to keep
everyone safe. A hero can be anyone, but I have two right here, and they love me. Tears
seep out of my eyes.
Nick leans down and kisses my eyelids. Loving you, Zara, is a full-time job. It s a great
job, don t get me wrong. It s the best job in the universe. But it is not easy, because you
tend to& .
Get hurt Betty suggests. Find trouble? Pass out? Break arms?
All of the above. Nick laughs.
My hands find Nick s wrist and I grab onto its thickness. You know, I m the patient
here. Where s the bedside manner? Where s the sympathy?
Zara, sympathy is just a good excuse to buy greeting cards and make sorry eyes and
secretly gloat over how glad you are that you aren t the person whose crap is hanging out
there for the world to see. Betty says.
A check at the hospital reveals:
·ð one sprained wrist
·ð a couple of minorly bruised but unbroken ribs, and
·ð one small neck strain that does not require a neck brace.
Gram changes into her civilian gear at the hospital, putting on a flannel shirt and L. L.
Bean cords, and then drives us home in her truck. I m in the middle seat leaning against
Nick.
I push my thigh against his. Well, thank God.
Thank God what? he asks. His hand slowly rubs up and down the place where my
shoulder meets my arm. It makes me good shiver.
That I don t have a neck brace. It s hard to rock a neck brace, especially if we re still
going to that dance.
He leans in and kisses my nose. If anyone could do it, you could.
I tilt my head so our lips meet.
Hormonal ones, I am right here. Me. The old lady otherwise known as your
grandmother, Betty says.
Sorry. He s just irresistible. I say, settling back against him.
Well, try to resist the irresistible, Betty says knowingly as the truck bumps over a
pothole. Sorry! Didn t mean to jostle you.
Wait, Nick says. What did that mean?
She said to resist the irresistible, I explain.
But that means me.
Betty starts laughing again. You have a high opinion of yourself, don t you, Mr. Colt?
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