I burst into the room like a tornado, realizing only afterward that I could've knocked over a patient with an IV or a nurse carrying something... unpleasant. Luckily, the room was empty, except for the girl lying in the bed. I didn't recognize her at first because she had her back to me.
My jittery brain started painting all kinds of bizarre, horrifying pictures, mixing today's events with the beeping of hospital machines. I thought the situation was way worse than I had imagined. Maybe she was already dead, and they just hadn't covered her with a sheet, like in those medical dramas.
"Heather!" I rushed over to her.
"Mmm," the "corpse" stirred and turned toward me.
I flinched in surprise, then burst into tears from sheer relief.
"Oh my God, Heather! I'm so glad you're alive! What happened? How did you manage to get in a car crash?"
"Uh, sorry... who's Heather?" she asked, confused.
Everything inside me went cold. "Heather, it's me, Mel. Melanie. You don't recognize me? Oh God, I'll call a doctor or a nurse. They'll fix this. I've heard of people recovering memories from worse injuries. Heather..." I was about to start wringing my hands when I noticed her biting her lip, trying hard not to laugh.
"Are you freaking kidding me?! You're joking? I almost lost my mind thinking you were dead, not knowing how to break it to your parents!" I started smacking her shoulder out of frustration.
"Easy, easy! Or you'll break my other arm!" Heather winced, but she was laughing now, full-on.
"Sorry! Damn, you should've seen yourself..."
"Total knockout, right?" Heather smirked, flashing me a grin.
"More like totally wrecked! Have you seen a mirror? You've got a shiner under your eye and stitches all over your forehead..." I began to calm down, feeling grounded again as it sunk in that Heather was okay. I hadn't lost her, but it looked like she might be stuck in the hospital for a bit.
"Eh, just a couple of stitches," she said, gingerly touching her forehead. "I'm gonna look even more like a tomboy now. Maybe I should chop my hair off like you did, and then I'll be the coolest chick in the neighborhood. Maybe then you'll forgive me."
"I've already forgiven you, Heather," I said quietly, sitting on the edge of her bed.
"I thought it'd take me like five years to work my way back into your good graces."
"Heather, does your mom know you're in the hospital?" I tried to steer the conversation in another direction.
Heather grimaced, inching closer to me. "I asked them not to call her. I wanted them to just patch me up and let me go, but I'm not turning eighteen for another month, so when my mom shows up, she's gonna kill me. That's what I told the doctors: 'Don't bother with the cast or stitches, 'cause I won't need them. My mom's gonna finish me off.' Didn't go over well, as you can imagine."
"I'll stay with you until she comes."
"How did you even get here? How did you know I was here?"
"Team effort."
"So, your new dream team is here too?"
"Every last one of them. They were worried about you."
"I don't care about them. I care that you still care about me, even after everything I put you through."
"Unfortunately, you're right." I patted her leg through the blanket. "Let's hope there's no more drama?"
"What drama? Everything's totally fine. Just a few stitches on my forehead, and based on how my butt feels..."
"Yeah, your butt's always getting you into trouble..."
"...a black eye, as you so kindly pointed out— so much for your bedside manner — and a broken arm," she said, lifting the arm that was already neatly packed in a cast.
"You're a terrible driver."
"It's your fault."
"Oh, is it now?"
"I was thinking about you when I hit... whatever the hell it was."
"Don't tell your mom that, or I'll be the one getting shipped off to Catholic school."
"I've told you, Catholic school is awesome. Loads of girls in uniforms. The only thing better is anime."
"Oh, God..."
"Yeah, those exact words came up every night with the girls."
"Stop exaggerating. You're not Blanche Devereaux from The Golden Girls."
"Remember when we binge-watched that whole series?"
"Heather, you're an idiot."
Whether it was the sheer happiness of knowing she was alive, or the fact that I could finally breathe again, or maybe it was just that she was so close, and I could catch that familiar scent of hers, or maybe it was my anger at Bianca and that cursed birthday party, but it was enough. I leaned in, cupping her face in my hands, and kissed her.
•••
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