Barely Bones

Barely Bones 6

The word "ump" is not a typo. You'll see what I mean in this chapter.

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Chapter 6, Part I: Hospitalized Dream

"Left! No, no, left! That's notー there you go, Sebastian. That's the ump," I raved.

"This gross dirt road that's definitely going to make my car gross? Why is it called the ump?"

"Well, this trail was marked during the Depression, and no one bothered to pave it over. A lot of drunkards liked to hang out here, apparently, and they called it the 'ump' cause they couldn't say 'unpaved'," I explained. "Well, anyway, Gwynn, are you okay?"

"The dog..."

"That was terrifying," Sebastian whispered.

"Did you see the blood?" Gwynn squealed.

"I saw the blood, Gwynn. Believe me. I saw it. I didn't want to."

We didn't say a lot after that, but the omen was prominent. I sort of felt like turning back, but that would be impossible on the one-lane ump.

A decent half-hour later, all of us had had our pick of songs to play in the car and we were starting to slouch back, excited for sleep.

All prospects of finding Ess and Cameron had escaped me. The loosening fibers of the car seats were lulling me to sleep, and I could tell that they had the same effects on Sebastian and Gwynn. But, Sebastian was driving.

"Holyー Sebastian, don't fall asleep!"

"Mm..."

"She's right," Gwynn hissed. "You can't nap now! We'll die!"

And that's exactly when Sebastian drowsily pulled over to the side of the highway, earning us a few honks, and exchanged seats with Gwynn.

Good. A reliable person in the driver's seat could have all my trust.

No longer afraid, I sunk into a cold sleep.

In my dreams, I saw the hospital I'd visited daily when Cameron broke his knee cap. It was the day he was supposed to be released, but a blizzard was raging as the city succumbed to the mid-February, and he was held in his room until the weather improved. Ess had driven me there, but she'd stepped out to buy a book for him to readー THE PLAGUE by Albert Camus. In French, of course. I honestly don't know why he did that to himself.

As I remained in the lobby area of the hospital, waiting for Ess, waiting for Cameron, waiting for the damn blizzard to shut up, I saw so many things that made me sad. Firstly, a Spiderman hat lay on the floor mere inches outside the door. Some kid was probably crying about it, he (or she, you never know) would be cold, and perhaps that hat was a gift. It even looked sad, the way people had stepped on it and not bothered to pick it up.

Secondly, the nurses who were off duty and about to head home sat around one of those sticky public tables with a hot cup of Starbucks in their hands, they made me sad.

"I can't believe what she said to me in that staff email, Glenda!"

"No way, Marie. You're definitely making this up! Paulo would never say that to anyone!"

"Don't tell anyone, but I really hope Val gets fired after what happened."

My blood suddenly warmed up, and I sincerely wanted to confront them. You're nurses. Go gossip when there aren't dozens of blizzard victims being wheeled in. But nobody listens kids and teenagers, and everyone knows that.

The last thing came as such a shock, I hadn't registered it until Ess had come to pick up Cameron and me, and I had started crying in the car.

Later that night, when I was staying over at Ess's place, the news described the incident as this: "An ambulance rushes into the lot, and before it even comes to a full stop, three men leap out and wheel a gurney through a foot of snow. Or, at least, they try to, because as they get closer and closer to the door, [and some beefy guy pushes me away to make room for them,] the snow gets thinner and slushier, and there's that Spiderman hat. [I see a glimpse of] the bodyー thin, squirming, blue, bloody. In full ski gear. The fatal moment occurs when the wheels of the gurney slip and steer the patient over the hat, which in turn attached itself to the wheel. The stretcher flips itself over, dropping the patient on his ribs. The situation was so terrifying that a young bystander [me] turns around and actually throws up into the garbage pail!"

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Chapter 6, Part II: Illegal

When I woke up, I saw a bottle of beer wrapped snugly in my arms.

"Morning! How'd you sleep?" asked Gwynn.

"Why do I have beer?"

Sebastian cackled. "I'm of legal age now. We stopped at a gas station and picked up a few."

I frowned. "You're from Massachusetts?"

He nodded.

"The legal drinking age there is twenty-one. Eighteen, with parental supervision."

"Oh."

"I'm not even sixteen yet," I complained.

"You're such a goody!"

I handed him the bottle, slightly disappointed that Gwynn had let him get it. Everything about our trip so far had been terrible.

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Chapter 6, Part III: Motel, No

They messed up our reservation, meaning Sebastian had the misfortune of sleeping on the pull-out bed in Gwynn's and my room.

"Goodnight," he grumbled, springs creaking underneath his weight.

"Goodnight," we replied.

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i had to search up legal age in massachusetts for part II and the results were yahoo answers about what the legal age for certain sexual acts was and i was like wTF NO THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT I NEED TO KNOW THE DRINKING AGE

12midnight right now and i have school tomorrow yay