27. River #2
Between Asch and me, we manage to get him to Blaze’s fancy car. Blaze jogs up to us and hands Asch the keys.
“I’ll call the clinic—no, shit, it’s already closed. You have to take him to the hospital. I’ll call them,” Blaze says, tapping on his phone.
Zayden is behind Blaze. “Don’t tell them we were drinking,” he warns us.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I snarl at Zayden.
“Not right now,” Asch snaps at both of us from the driver’s seat. “Are you coming or not?” He slams the car door closed.
I hurry over to the other side, getting into the car right before Asch starts to pull away from the curb.
“Hang in there, Franklin,” I tell him, looking back at him.
The sounds he’s making are weaker, and panic starts to course through me.
I should’ve said more. I should’ve stopped them.
“Faster!” I tell Asch, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Asch doesn’t look at me, but he accelerates until he’s speeding across campus. Thanks to the late hour, no one’s on the road, and it only takes us ten minutes before we’re pulling into the emergency entrance to the hospital.
Ten minutes is a long time.
How long had he been without air before I’d noticed?
Three people are standing right outside the entrance with a gurney, and I hurry to get out of the car. I fling the back door open, shouting, “He’s back here.”
They rush forward and get Franklin onto the gurney.
Franklin doesn’t move or make a sound .
“It’s an allergic reaction,” I tell them. “Cinnamon. He was vaping, and?—”
One of the EMTs jabs something into Franklin. “Thanks. We got it.”
They wheel Franklin inside, and I stare as the hospital doors shut behind them.
“I’m going to park the car,” Asch says. “You can go inside in case they need more information.”
I realize I know next to nothing about Franklin, but I nod anyway and jog into the building. “My friend—” I begin to say to the woman behind the desk.
“We need his name and point of contact,” she interrupts me.
“It’s Franklin Delgado,” I tell her. “But I don’t know anything but his phone number, and I don’t think he had his phone on him when we brought him in.”
The woman — the badge clipped to her shirt says Annie — types something into the system. “Is he a student?”
I nod. “Yeah. Dyschord U,” I reply. “He’s in the Kappa Alpha fraternity. The, um, frat leader might have more contact info. I’ll call him.”
I realize I don’t have Zayden’s contact information, but Asch arrives, looking breathless.
“What’s going on? Where is he?” Asch asks.
“He’s in the back,” I tell him. “They need contact info. For his parents, I guess?”
Asch nods, and he quickly taps on his phone. “Blaze? We need?—”
I start to tune the words out, staring at the door they’d wheeled Franklin through. He’s okay. He has to be okay.
Why hadn’t I spoken up louder? Why hadn’t I protected him more? I should’ve taken his protests seriously. Hell, I should have stayed by his side and not gotten distracted by Blaze’s stupid fight.
“Have a seat,” the receptionist says to me, pointing to the waiting area. Then she peers at both of us and says, “Do you need emergency services? ”
I have no idea what she’s talking about until Asch taps his jaw. I reach up to my face and remember the pummeling I’d received only an hour ago. I look down at my hands, to my bruised knuckles.
The missing finger.
“We’re okay,” Asch says. “Nothing that can’t wait.”
He takes my arm and leads me to the chairs. I sit down, numb, my attention still on the door.
My phone dings a few times, but I ignore it. People go in and out of the door, none of them Franklin. The girl with the bloodied arm and the guy in the Dyschord sweater who’s all pale and sweating get up when their names are called and follow a nurse through the door.
I take a deep breath, trying to fortify myself against the memories that threaten to overtake me.
Fuck.
It’s been a while since I’ve been to the hospital, but I’d been a frequent visitor growing up — right until the point where the nurse had sent my parents out of the room and asked frankly about where I’d gotten my latest injury.
I’d stayed home after that, my mom taking care of me as well as she could… except for the finger.
That had necessitated a hospital visit, and I take a shaky breath as the bland surroundings and distinct smell shake up thoughts I don’t want to have.
They make me hate Pandora all over again.
My left hand aches, and I look down at it. Phantom pains; it’s long gone and healed.
It doesn’t make them easier to handle.
“River?” Asch’s words break into my thoughts, and I realize he’s been trying to get my attention. “You okay?”
I blink several times, trying to clear my vision. “Yeah,” I say automatically, only to amend, “Not really. I hope he’s okay.”
I need him to be okay.
The doors open and close repeatedly as more people filter in, but none of them ask about Franklin at the desk.
I wonder if his parents will even show up.
Mine wouldn’t.
“Yeah,” Asch says. He awkwardly pats my arm. “It’ll be all right. We got him here pretty fast. And we’ll get an epi-pen for if this happens again. And stab those fuckers, because apparently there needs to be more stabbing of our frat brothers.”
I try to smile at him, but I can’t muster it. “We got him here fast, but I don’t know how long it was before we realized something was wrong,” I say.
The next time the door opens, Blaze walks in, accompanied by an older woman wearing sweatpants and a large sweater. She rushes to the front desk, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.
Blaze spots us and walks over to us. “Hey,” he says, tapping his foot against my leg. “That’s Mrs. Delgado. Franklin’s father lives in Seattle, but he said he booked a 6 a.m. flight… I guess that’s 9 a.m. our time.”
I nod, watching as a nurse leads Mrs. Delgado to the back.
I don’t have a good feeling about this.
About fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Delgado storms back out, eyes red and furious. “You,” she says, pointing at me. “What did you do to him?”
I stare at her, my mouth going dry. “Is he… Is Franklin?—”
He can’t be dead.
We got here as fast as we could. He hadn’t been doing well, but he had been alive . I’m sure of it.
Except I hadn’t seen him as the nurses had pulled him out of the car. Had he been dead and gone already? Had we been too late?
We couldn’t have been.
I can’t think that way. I can’t?—
“I talked to him this morning!” Mrs. Delgado shouts. “He was fine then! Now he’s… Now he’s…” She starts sobbing, the tears running thick down her cheeks.
Blaze goes to her side and hands her a tissue. She slaps away his hand, and it makes a loud sound in the otherwise deadly quiet waiting room. “It wasn’t River, Mrs. Delgado. Franklin had an allergic reaction.”
“One that wouldn’t have been deadly if he hadn’t been drunk!” she yells. “You fraternity boys, drinking and drinking, and Franklin knows he’s allergic, he wouldn’t have eaten anything with cinnamon, and…” Her sobs grow louder.
One of the nurses hurries over and guides Mrs. Delgado away from us.
I don’t miss the judgmental glare from the nurse.
It doesn’t matter. I deserve it. I deserve that and worse for failing to protect Franklin when I should have made him stand up for himself.
If I hadn’t been drinking, I wouldn’t have stood for it.
My limbs feel heavy, and I stare at the floor.
I should’ve paid more attention. I shouldn’t have gotten distracted by Blaze and Zayden and their stupid games.
“I was his friend,” I say, biting out the words. “And he died alone in the back of your fucking car because I didn’t do anything to help him.”
“He wasn’t dead when we got here,” Asch hisses. “He couldn’t have been. They used an epi-pen. I saw that. They wouldn’t do that for a dead person, right?”
I sneer at him. “They would if they thought he was still alive,” I retort. “You think he miraculously made it all that way and died here then?”
I wish I thought that was the case.
I wish I thought that he hadn’t died alone.
I don’t.
“Does it make a difference?” Blaze asks quietly. “Either way, he’s dead.”
Those words ring in my ears, and my blood boils in my veins. “Yeah,” I say harshly. “He’s dead. He’s dead because those fuckers pushed him into doing something stupid.”
He’s dead because I was too drunk to do anything about it .
Well, I’ve sobered up now.
“We did everything we could,” Asch says, his voice as calm and rational as ever, and it’s infuriating .
“No. No, we fucking didn’t!” I shout.
“Sir!” the nurse at the front desk says. “I need you to calm down. You’re scaring the other patients.”
Fuck the other patients. I don’t care about them. I care about Franklin — Franklin, who was kind and earnest and spoke about his brand-new girlfriend with the sort of passion that comes with a first love.
I quiet down anyway. “It never should’ve happened,” I say.
“No,” Asch says, and he glances in the direction of the nurse. “It shouldn’t have. But it won’t happen again. We’re going to get some things to keep on hand. Epi-pens, Narcan, whatever else we need to.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Fat lot of good that’s going to do now.”
We stand quietly for several long minutes, and I can feel parts of myself crumbling. I thought I was beyond these types of reactions. My father would beat me for being so sensitive .
But it still hurts.
Blaze runs his hand over his face. “We have to… we have to take responsibility.” He tosses the tissue into the trash. “Let’s go back. There’s no point waiting around here.”
Take responsibility.
Like that’s going to do a goddamn thing.
I open my mouth to protest.
“We can’t change anything now,” Asch says quietly before I can say anything, standing up. “And we all stink. We need to shower. Change clothes.”
I don’t want to shower or get changed.
I want to beat the shit out of Brock and Tate for this.
I want to do worse than that.
I want to rip open his insides while he screams for mercy.
I won’t give it to him.
“Go bring the car around, Asch,” Blaze orders .
Asch nods and heads out.