Airhead - Cabot Meg - Страница 8

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When I opened my eyes again it was daytime. And my mom was sitting in the chair my dad had jumped out of. She was calling my name.

‘Mom,’ I said groggily Because the truth was, I was still pretty tired. ‘I don’t want to go to school today. OK?’

At least that’s what I tried to say. I’m not positive those are the words that my mother heard, because they didn’t sound much like what came out of my mouth.

Instead of arguing with me though, Mom flattened her hand across her mouth and started to cry. That’s when I noticed she wasn’t the only person in the room besides me. Behind her stood my dad and a couple of people in white coats I’d never seen before.

I figured the reason she was crying was because my voice still sounded so weird. It was kind of… I don’t know… high-pitched.

Also, I still wasn’t sure the words I’d said made sense.

‘Honey,’ Dad said. He had his hands on Mom’s shoulders and was looking at me funny… like the time I slipped and hit my chin on the side of the pool at the hotel we were staying at in DisneyWorld, and I didn’t know it but a big chunk of my skin had come off and I was bleeding copiously, but since it didn’t hurt I wasn’t crying or anything, nor did I notice I was covered in my own blood because I was wet anyway. ‘Do you, um, know who we are?’

Whoa. Whatever number I’d done to get myself into the hospital, it must have been serious.

‘Um, yeah,’ I said. ‘You’re Daniel Watts and she’s Karen Rosenthal-Watts.’

The words didn’t really come out sounding that clear. There seemed to be something wrong with my enunciation.

Maybe that’s why my mom burst into loud sobs. Which was really startling. I’ve never seen her cry that way before. Not even at the end of the movie Love Actually, which always makes her weep like a baby.

I’m pretty sure Dad had never heard her cry like that before either. He looked totally startled by her outburst, and kept going, ‘Karen, it’s OK.’

Fortunately one of the people wearing a white coat stepped around my parents while they were huddled in their weepy hug and said, in a kind voice, ‘I’m Doctor Holcombe, Emerson.’

‘Oh,’ I said. Then I tried to clear my throat. Only it didn’t work, because there was nothing in my throat to clear, apparently. ‘Why does my voice sound so weird?’ I asked.

Dr Holcombe had taken out a penlight and was flashing it into my eyes. ‘Are you in any pain?’ he wanted to know. I wasn’t sure if he was ignoring my question or if he just hadn’t understood me. My voice sounded so weird, I couldn’t quite understand myself.

Meanwhile, another person in a white coat, this one a lady with her dark hair in a bun, said, ‘I’m Doctor Higgins. Can you wiggle your toes for me, Emerson?’

It was hard — I was still so tired — but I wiggled my toes.

‘What happened to me?’ I wanted to know.

‘Can you follow the end of my finger with your eyes, Emerson?’ Dr Holcombe wanted to know. ‘Don’t move your head. Just follow it with your eyes.’

So I followed his finger with my eyes. I could see everything just fine now. No more amoebas everywhere.

‘I mean, I know I’m in the hospital,’ I went on. ‘But what’s with all these wires? And why does my voice sound like that?’

‘Just keep looking here,’ Dr Holcombe said as he continued to shine the light in my eyes as I was following his finger with my gaze.

‘Can you squeeze my hand, Emerson?’ Dr Higgins wanted to know.

I squeezed her hand.

‘Seriously,’ I said. Since Mom was still crying and Dad was still trying to help her pull herself together, I had no choice but to address my concerns to these doctors I had only just met. ‘How much school have I missed?’ Because I was in all Advanced Placement classes, and it was no joke if you fell behind. And then, because I still sounded so weird to myself, I asked, ‘What is wrong with my voice?’

‘We’ll get to all that,’ Dr Holcombe said, finally flicking off his flashlight, ‘in time, Emerson.’

‘Em,’ I corrected him. ‘I go by Em.’

‘Of course.’ Dr Holcombe smiled, and put his penlight away. ‘Now why don’t you try to get some more rest? Your family, as you can see, is fine —’ he glanced at them, realized they were both still sniffling, and looked uncomfortably away again — ‘er, at least, they will be. They’ve been very worried about you, that’s all. It’s quite a relief to see that you’re doing so well. You can go back to sleep now, if you want to.’

I was still pretty sleepy. But I was worried about the school thing. His assurance that we’d get to all that in time didn’t mean I wasn’t going to have bucketloads of work to make up.

And how come no one would answer my question about my voice?

But the doctor with her hair in a bun was jiggling some of my wires, and suddenly I got sleepier than ever. So I closed my eyes for another little nap.

And when I opened them again, it was night-time, and the handsomest guy I’d ever seen in my life was sitting in the chair beside my bed.

‘Oh, you’re awake then,’ the guy said when he noticed that I was staring at him.

And then he smiled.

And I knew exactly what it must feel like to reach level sixty at Journeyquest. Suddenly, it was a little hard to breathe.

Also, it wasn’t at ALL annoying that one of the machines next to my bed started pinging like MAD in time with my heartbeat.

‘Oh no,’ the guy said, the smile disappearing as he glanced at the machine in alarm. ‘Did I do something?’

‘No,’ I assured him in my still-weird voice. But who even cared?

Obviously this guy was a hallucination.

But one that I was going to enjoy as long as I could.

I smiled back at him, and asked, relieved the pinging had gone back to normal (how embarrassing!), ‘Are those for me?’

Because he was holding a big bouquet of red roses. Like his presence wasn’t enough of a treat. He’d brought me flowers as well.

‘Oh,’ he said, looking down at the roses like he’d only just remembered they were there. He laid them down on the bed beside me. ‘Yes, they are. Do you remember me? Gabriel Luna? From the Stark Megastore grand opening last month?’

I had no idea what he was talking about. I guess I semi-remembered something about a Stark Megastore. I definitely remembered him though. Or at least, I thought I did. That dark hair and those piercing blue eyes — those I knew.

Just not the name that had been attached to them. Or how I knew them.

I couldn’t believe such a totally hot guy was visiting me in the hospital. And I really couldn’t believe he had brought me flowers.

‘Of course I remember you,’ I lied.

‘That’s good to know,’ Gabriel said, smiling again. And this time, even though my heart didn’t speed up (thank God), I felt it melt. Just a little. Because of course even though he was handsome, he wasn’t Christopher. ‘I wasn’t certain you would. Couldn’t have been the best day of your life… ’

What was he talking about? I had no idea.

‘Ha ha,’ I said, smiling back at him. I reached over to touch one of the rose’s silky crimson petals.

Which is when I noticed my hand…

… wasn’t my hand.

I mean, it was, obviously. It was attached to my arm. But it looked… different. Instead of my chewed-up, raggedy fingernails (I’m a hardcore nail-biter), I saw that I had what appeared to be a grown out, though perfect-except-where-the-cuticles-needed-to-be-pushed-back, French manicure… pink on the bottom, with white tips.

Weird. Also, did my fingers look… thinner than before? Could you lose weight in your hand? I suppose so, if you were unconscious long enough.

But still. How long had I been sleeping, anyway?

Then I realized: long enough for Frida to glue on those Lee Press On Nails she was always threatening to make me wear.

Then I realized Gabriel was talking to me. He was saying, ‘You look well. They’re saying — well, all sorts of things about you. I didn’t know what to expect. No one would tell me anything about you. They aren’t allowing visitors… I had to sneak on to this floor —’

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