The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 42: Ronan

"I think I saw his eye twitch."

"Owen. This is the sixth time you've said that. You're imagining things."

"C'mon, Karen, it's a faint, not a coma; he should be waking up soon. Look— did you see that? His eye twitched again. He'll come to in minutes."

"And then what? Jesus, Owen, did you see his leg? And his nose? This is exactly what you were supposed to watch for, and prevent from happening!"

"Hey, the last time I checked, we both had eyes. Don't blame this all on me."

"I'm not. I just...."

"Karen, wait— where are you going?"

"I have to speak with the Director. About the— never-mind. There's just a lot we need to talk about."

"Darling...."

Retreating footsteps. The sound of a door slamming. A frustrated groan.

I open my eyes. I'm in the Med Cabin, lying on a cot near the window. "Hey," I say. My throat feels like sandpaper, and my mouth tastes like dead things. I vividly recall throwing up over the side of a canoe. "Hello?"

More footsteps. A shadow falls across my legs— it's Owen, crouching by my bedside (or is it cotside?), watching me with wide, concerned eyes. "You're awake," he says. He sounds relieved, or at least not as worried as before. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit." I push myself upwards into a sitting position, grimacing. "Sorry. You didn't hear that."

"It's okay. I understand you've been through a lot, so I won't give you any marks. Can I get you anything?"

"Water. Please."

Owen disappears. I close my eyes and rub at them with the palms of my hands, trying to force the haziness away. My brain still feels like it's running on slo-mo, and it hurts to think too hard— the insistent throbbing in my nose doesn't help, either. I wonder if it's broken. I hope it's not.

"Your water," Owen says, handing me a cup.

I take it and gulp it down— it's lukewarm and earthy, but it beats the taste of this morning's breakfast, so I don't really mind. "How long has it been?" I ask.

"About twenty minutes. The other campers should be coming back soon; we sent them all back after you...." Owen trails off, looking uncomfortable. "After your accident."

"Oh." I don't know how to respond to all this. "Okay. Thanks, I guess."

I drink some more water. In the corner of my eye, I see Owen watching me carefully. "Do you feel okay to talk about what happened?" he asks in a soft voice.

"Yeah," I say sluggishly. But what happened is so hazy in my brain, like a movie I watched years ago. Everything still feels so far away. And I must be hallucinating because there's no way Owen just called Karen his darling. "Actually, can you just give me a minute?"

"Of course," Owen says kindly. He's always kind. Too kind. "Take your time."

I take another sip of water, but my body is still being uncooperative, and somehow I manage to bump the rim of the cup against my nose. And, holy fuck, does it hurt. The pain explodes full-force again, so quick and intense that I feel like I'm about to pass out again. I glare at the wall, my eyes watering, trying to think about anything except the dizziness and nausea sweeping over me...

And that's when I see it. A telephone.

It's hanging on the wall opposite my bed, painted red and marked with the words "For Emergency Use Only". My heart rate speeds up, but not from pain, which now seems like more of a nuisance than a priority. The fog obscuring my thoughts quickly dissipates. And suddenly, getting Finn kicked out of camp doesn't seem so important anymore; at least, not when there's a telephone only feet away, and Jesse's number written across my brain. I can get Finn in trouble later— or anytime, really— but this might be my only chance to speak to Jesse all summer. I have to get to that telephone. I have to.