Scarlett White (34 page)

Timothy stood up and followed the nurse to a dark room where Scarlett was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling above her head. Her red curls were spread on the pillow about her face making her look even paler than she was. Her dark eyelashes were motionless; she did not blink once. Her chest moved up and down, but ever so slowly, as if she was sleeping. But her glassy eyes were evidence to the fact that she was awake.

Timothy looked down at her in pity. He hadn't known her for long, but he remembered his own daughter at this age, and his heart broke to think of what had happened to Scarlett today at school. Heartbreak was something that nobody could deal with swiftly.

"Her head wound was slight. We've run tests—CAT Scans, MRIs, X-rays—and we came up empty handed," the nurse explained. "There isn't any serious head drama. Aside from the possibility of some intense headaches, she will be fine. Just give her some Ibuprofen or Advil to take away the pain."

"Okay," Timothy replied quietly, still watching Scarlett's motionless body on the bed. "Can we leave now?"

"As soon as you sign here." The nurse handed him the clipboard, and Timothy hurriedly signed it.

As soon as he had signed the paper, he entered the room and sat on the bed by Scarlett, who was still staring up at the ceiling.

"Scarlett?" Timothy asked gently.

Scarlett's green, glossy eyes moved to look at Timothy's face, but she made no other movement or acknowledgement.

"The nurse says we can go home now."

Scarlett slowly pushed herself off the bed, slung her legs over the edge, and stood up. Her head still hurt, making her dizzy, but she was fine other than that. If she hadn't been so depressed, she would have thought that it was silly she had been taken to the hospital. It was only a bruise; nothing else. But she was depressed, after all.

Scarlett followed her stepfather to his car and sat quietly in the passenger seat on the way to their apartment. Timothy watched Scarlett sadly as she ascended the steps to her room. Her shoulders were slumped, her head bent. This boy really must have meant something to her. Timothy had only known Scarlett for a few months now, but the time that he had known her, she was always a bubbly girl. She always had a smile plastered to her lips and witty comments flowing out of her mouth.

As he watched her slowly close the door to her new room, an idea struck him. And it struck him good. He pulled out his cell phone and immediately hit speed dial #1.

"Hey, dad."

"Hey, Melody. I need you to do something for me."

Kyle, Tom, Sal, Parker, and the rest of the football team were crowded in the emergency room that Tristan was in. Tristan's mom and siblings had gone home to get some actual rest. The doctors said they would call her at the slightest change in anything. Mary and Bryan had taken the rest of the week off school so that they could be with their brother.

Kyle, Tom, Sal, and Parker were whispering when they heard a silent groan escape Tristan's lips. And everyone went still. The room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. The entire football team stared wide-eyed at Tristan's pale form lying on the bed motionlessly. Nothing had changed on the monitors. Had they all imagined it? Had Tristan really made any noise at all? Had they only heard what they wanted to hear? But when he made another mumble, they all saw with amazement that his lips had moved just slightly.

What they heard was barely above a whisper; it was so quiet they almost thought they dreamed it. But this time it actually made sense, "Scar."

"Scar? What does that mean?" Hank, a football player, asked.

"Scarlett was Tristan's girlfriend," Kyle explained. "She moved to Ohio last Friday."

"So, what? He wants Scarlett?" Hank asked.

"Apparently. I know this sounds too cheesy, but maybe if we could get Scarlett back down here. You know, just to visit him...?" Tom trailed off.

"That would be a problem," Sal replied. "The last anyone heard was that Scarlett is in the hospital."

The entire room went back to silence. All but one barely audible word was spoken. "Scarlett."

Meghan was sitting at home, quietly working on an essay due next Thursday when her cell phone buzzed on her bedside table. She hopped out of her desk chair, threw herself onto the bed, and clicked the green button, "Hello?"

"Meg, it's Ginny," Ginny said from the other end of the phone.

"Yes, I figured that since the caller ID said 'Ginny.'"

"Shut up; anyways, I have fantabulous news and then I have terriful news."

"Could you speak English?"

"I have fantastic slash fabulous news and then I have terrible slash awful news," Ginny quickly translated.

"Shoot."

"Scar is not in the hospital! Apparently, she was released from the hospital on Monday, but no one down here knew about it."

"Oh, thank God!" Meghan breathed a sigh of relief. "What's the not so great news?"

"She's sort of in this depression. It's even worse than when her father died and her half-brother was sent to that asylum," Ginny replied, her voice darkening.

"She-She is depressed?" Meghan stammered. "How are we going to help her?"

"Yes. But I need you to spread the news. Go to Tristan's hospital and tell the football team; I heard that they are with him twenty-four seven. Go!"

"Why can't you go?" Meghan asked. "I'm working on my history essay right now, so I'm kind of slammed—"

"That essay isn't due until Wednesday!" Ginny retorted.

"Thursday, but that doesn't mean you can't go," Meghan argued.

"Well, the other reason I can't go to the hospital is because my parent's grounded me for sneaking out last night. You don't even realize how hard it was for me to steal my phone from my mother's locked drawer."

"You're so stupid!" Meghan bellowed into the phone.

"Yes, yes, I know. Now go tell the football team," Ginny said hurriedly.

Meghan's heartbeat quickened. She knew that Ginny knew that she hated talking to anyone close to the B-list at school, let alone the A-listers; AKA the football team. Seriously, the football team? Nu-uh, no way, ain't gonna happen, zero percent, fat chance, make that a negative, not gonna happen...

"Why can't Kate go?"

"Because she snuck out with me last night," Ginny answered. "So, she's grounded as well."

"God, you're both moronic," Meghan grumbled.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. Now, get your ass down to the hospital."

"And how is my telling the football team going to help with Scarlett's depression or Tristan's coma?" Meghan asked.

"The football team has money. They're all filthy rich. And we need money to buy plane tickets."

"We're going to see Scarlett?" Meghan asked.

"I'm not sure yet. Maybe we can fly Scarlett down here. Whatever we do, we need money. Now go tell the football team and make it convincing," Ginny ordered.

Meghan really didn't want to go and face the football team. But then Meghan thought of Scarlett and what she would have done in this situation, and some confidence built up in her chest.

As Ginny had predicted, the entire football team was stuffed in Tristan's room—emergency room that is. There were quiet whispers here and there, but for the most part the room was deadly silent.

Meghan silently slipped in; not one person noticed her presence. Normally she would have liked to keep it that way, but today was different. Meghan quietly cleared her throat; nobody turned in her direction. Rolling her eyes, Meghan coughed, "Hello?" That got their attention. She heard whispers of people asking, "What's
she
doing here?" But she ignored the harsh words and continued her mission.

"I know you all have no idea what my name is, but right now I don't give a damn." Whoa, that was the first time she had cursed...aloud anyways. "But I have terminological inexactitude from the northern hemisphere."

Everyone still looked at her with quizzical expressions. "In simpler terms, I have gossip to tell all of you from where Scarlett is," she translated into high school jock language.

"Oohhhh," the idiotic football team said in union. Meghan rolled her eyes again.

"Scar is not in the hospital anymore."

Kyle and Tom stood up, happy smiles across their faces. "Can she come down here, like, pronto?" Tom asked, completely thrilled.

"Well, not exactly," Meghan gulped. "She's kind of in a depression now."

"Wait—we're talking about Scarlett White, right?" Hank asked. "The smartest girl in school, not to mention a pretty damn hot, smart chick," he mumbled the last part. "Why would someone who is that hot be depressed?"

"You know, not everything is about looks," Meghan retorted.

"Well, look who's talking," one of the football players mumbled.

Meghan glowered at the football player who had made the comment, but let it go and merely looked around the room.

"We need to get Scarlett down here," Tom said.

"Even if we do somehow get her out of her depression, who is going to pay for the plane ticket? It's not like her mother is the richest person in the world. And even if we do somehow get her back down here, who is that going to help. She isn't a doctor. She isn't a miracle worker. She can't just walk in the room, and 'poof,' Tristan's awake. It's not going to work like that," Meghan argued.

"Well, maybe her voice can wake him up. I've read articles about that happening with loved ones," Hank said.

Meghan looked at him dubiously. "You read articles?" she questioned.

"Well, I read the titles of the articles."

"That sounds more like it." Meghan smiled self-satisfactorily. "How are we going to get her here, then?" she asked.

"My dad would give me the money if I asked him for it," a quiet voice spoke from the corner of the room.

Everyone looked around and saw Mary, Tristan's younger sister, sitting quietly in the corner.

"You would do that?" Meghan asked.

"If it helps my brother, I can get the money," Mary answered.

Meghan smiled. "Then let's get to work on getting Scarlett back down here."

Her chest hurt so much she thought she was going to explode. And this was just the beginning.

Life went on, though.

It went on, but not easily.

The minutes felt like hours.

The hours felt like days.

The days felt like weeks.

The weeks felt like months.

Nobody had been able to make her feel any better. Chloe, Zoey, and Millie had done their best to try and ease Scarlett's pain, but again nothing helped Scarlett's depression. They had even had a slumber party, but Scarlett barely remembered the sleepover.

It was a Friday, and she was shaken rather roughly by someone who was much too effervescent for her own sullen mood. Bright aqua blue eyes were staring anxiously at her from above her head. A light brown strand of hair dangled from her head. When she realized Scarlett had woken up, she smiled.