When he walked out, I noticed Jasmine standing talking to a nurse. I waved at her. She came over to the door. "You need something?" she asked.
I looked down and sort of pulled on my covers. "Umm, maybe," I mumbled.
"Well, make up your mind." She smiled. "Do you or don't you?"
"The nurse lets me get out of bed to use the bathroom. Do you think she'd let you walk me down the hall?"
"You want me to take you for a walk?"
"I want you to take me to see the boy who was riding the bike." I didn't use BJ's name because I hadn't told the cops I knew who he was.
She looked thoughtful. "Let me ask the nurse."
She came back with a wheelchair. "The nurse said you're not ready to take a walk that far. You can barely make it to the John and back. She said I can take you for a ride, though."
I got in the chair and pulled my IV up beside it. Jasmine pushed me down the hall and around the corner. We were in another area similar to the one where I was. It had rooms in a ring around a nurse's station. All the rooms had windows that opened onto the station. Mine had windows too, but Momz keep the blinds closed. Since she was a nurse, they let her do that when she was in the room.
Jasmine stopped outside a room. Momz said a cluster of rooms like this with windows and monitors were a step down from ICU. The patients all needed round the clock monitoring, but they were stable. Their families were allowed to stay with them.
I could see BJ through the window. He was lying in the bed. He had bandages wrapped around his head. His leg was in a cast and hanging in the air. Both arms were in casts, too. The left one covered the whole arm. The right one just came to the elbow. An IV was hooked to his right hand. There was a tube down his nose. A machine was breathing for him. His Momz was sitting by his bed. Her hand was holding his. Her head was on the mattress. She was either sleeping or praying.
"Oh, God," I moaned. "I've seen enough."
Jasmine pushed me back to my room and helped me back in bed.
"Give me 10 and then come back."
I closed my eyes. "God," I said. "I think you're there. At least Momz and Popz seem to think so. And I'm alive when I should have my brains splattered all over the pavement. Anyway, here's the thing. BJ doesn't deserve to die. Take care of him, please." I stopped for an minute and then continued. "And I'm not asking for me, to get me off the hook or anything. I know I made some bad choices. I'll take whatever comes my way." I stopped again and blew my nose. "And God, you gave your Son for me. Let him help me to be a better person."
I opened my eyes. Nothing had changed, but I wasn't so down in the dumps. It felt like a weight had been lifted. "Okay, God, here goes," I thought.
"Hey, Jasmine," I called. She came to the door. I waved her into the room. "I'm ready to talk." I looked at her earnestly to make sure she understood the import of the understatement. "But I'll only talk to you, not those two cops who've been trying to get over on me. And I need to talk to Momz and my lawyer, first."
"I'll tell them at the station." She must have read my expression She hurried on. "But not until you give me the go ahead."
"You can tell them after I talk to Momz and Grady, but I won't talk to anyone but you. I'll let you record it or video it or whatever is okay with Grady, but no other cops will be in the room."
"Alright," she said. "Do you want me to find your Mom?"
I looked at the clock. "She gets a break in 15 minutes. She'll be here." I picked up the phone. "I'm just gonna call Grady." Jasmine nodded and left me alone. Grady said he'd be there by the time Momz went on break.
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Crash Test Dummy
General FictionIn some prisons the term crash test dummy is used to refer to an inmate who makes poor decisions and stays in trouble. Most are young and immature. This book is about an adolescent who is in danger of becoming a crash test dummy. Wayne learns at age...