Chapter 21 #2
Nate waited until everyone had sat again. He shook the box gently, then pulled one card out. He unfolded it and read. “I wish people understood that I’m not confused. I’m scared.”
The room went still.
Nate looked up. “Are they the only one who feels this way?”
Every head in the room indicated otherwise.
“Hell, no!” Kendra snapped.
He drew another. “I wish people understood I’m trying as hard as I can.”
Another.
“I wish people understood I didn’t choose this.”
He paused.
Across the circle, Joshua watched the kids’ shoulders shift slightly, the way tension sometimes loosened when something unspoken was finally said aloud.
Nate held up the small stack of cards.
“Look around,” he said softly. “These aren’t separate stories.”
He tapped the pile once.
“They’re one room.”
Randy’s gaze dropped briefly to the floor.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Alex leaned sideways and bumped Randy’s shoulder.
“Told you it wasn’t just you,” he muttered.
Randy huffed out a quiet laugh, just a fraction too late.
The room seemed to relax.
A moment later, Randy pushed back his chair. “Bathroom,” he muttered, not really looking at anyone.
Nate reached into the box again, flipping the next card open.
“I wish people understood I’m tired of explaining myself,” he read.
A few heads nodded.
“Yeah,” Kendra muttered.
Nate glanced up. “That one lands, huh?”
He set it aside and pulled another. “Let’s do one more.”
He read, “I wish I didn’t have to think about it all the time.”
“About what?” Riley asked.
Nate gave a small shrug. “Whatever it is for you.”
There was a pause, then Lex spoke up, quieter this time. “School. Mostly.”
“People,” Jacob added, with a quick, humorless huff.
A ripple of agreement moved through the circle.
Nate nodded. “Okay. So—how do you get a break from it?”
Alex leaned back in his chair, stretching slightly—and glanced to his right.
Empty.
He frowned, just a little. His gaze flicked toward the door. Still open.
He waited a moment, then pushed to his feet. “Back in a sec,” he muttered, mostly to Riley.
The hallway was quieter than the main room—the hum of voices fading behind him as the door swung softly closed.
“Randy?” Alex called, not loud. Just enough. He glanced toward the restroom door.
Closed.
“Randy?”
Nothing.
Alex took a few more steps down the hall. And that’s when he saw Randy: on the floor, half against the wall, one arm slack at his side.
“Hey—” Alex stopped. Something wasn’t right.
He stepped closer.
“Randy?”
No response.
His chest moved—but not evenly.
Alex reached out slowly and touched his shoulder.
“Randy?”
Then he shook him.
“Randy!”
Nothing.
Alex turned and ran.
The door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame. “Colin!”
Every head snapped up.
Alex stood in the doorway, breath tearing in and out of him. “Randy–he’s—he’s down—he won’t wake up—”
Colin was already moving.
Trent pushed off the wall immediately. “I’m with you.”
“Where?” Colin demanded of Alex, voice razor-edged.
“Hall!”
He didn’t wait for the rest. He was past Alex and into the hallway in three strides with Trent right behind him.
“Call 911!” he threw over his shoulder.
Joshua had his phone out before the words finished, hitting 911 as he bolted through the door.
Marilyn took a step after them—then stopped and called after Joshua: “I’ll call his parents!” She turned back to the room. “Hey—hey, it’s okay. Stay here,” she said, her voice steady though her hands shook.
Nate moved without hesitation, stepping into the center of the room beside Marilyn.
“Hey—eyes up here,” he said, gentler now, but firm. “We’re going to give them space. Colin knows what he’s doing.”
Marilyn lifted her phone.
David moved to the door Joshua had just passed through, not blocking it, but holding the space.
“Let’s give them room,” he said quietly.
Randy was slumped against the wall, one shoulder twisted awkwardly, head tipped forward.
“Randy—hey.” Colin said.
No response.
Colin dropped to his knees beside the boy, fingers already at Randy’s neck, then shifting—checking, confirming.
Trent dropped to a knee, scanning quickly. “What do you need?”
“Space,” Colin said.
“Got it.”
Breathing. Not right—but there.
“OK. OK.” Colin’s voice was low. He slid a hand behind Randy’s shoulder, easing him down carefully, turning him onto his side, steady.
“Randy, stay with me.”
Nothing.
Colin adjusted his position, steadying him, making sure his airway stayed clear.
Alex hovered a step away, shaking. “I—he just—”
“You did exactly right,” Colin said without looking up.
Joshua reached them, phone pressed to his ear, breath tight. “Yes, we have him on his side,” he said. “He’s breathing but it’s irregular.”
The dispatcher’s voice continued in his ear, steady, procedural.
Joshua repeated what was needed, but his eyes were on Randy. On the stillness. On how young he looked like this. “OK,” he said, voice tightening for the first time. “I understand.”
He sucked in a breath. “Colin?”
“Hang on,” Colin muttered, bending over Randy. “Randy, I need you to hear me,” Colin said, low and firm. “You’re OK. Stay with me.”
He kept one hand steady at Randy’s shoulder, the other braced lightly, grounding, anchoring. Counting without thinking. Watching the rise and fall. Waiting.
The sound reached them first. Distant. Then closer. Coming fast. Sirens cutting clean through the quiet.
Trent glanced toward the front of the building. “They’re here.”
Colin didn’t look up. “Good.”
Footsteps—quick, purposeful—then two paramedics came around the corner, stretcher at their side.
“What’ve we got?” one of them asked.
“Sixteen-year-old male,” Colin said, not moving from his position. “Unresponsive. Breathing—irregular. On his side.”
The paramedic nodded once. “Okay. We’ve got him.”
Colin shifted back immediately, giving them space without hesitation.
One paramedic dropped to his knees where Colin had been, the other already opening a kit. “Hey, buddy,” the first one said, firm but calm. “Stay with me.”
Joshua stood a step back, phone still pressed to his ear.
“They’re here,” he said. A pause. “Yes. They have him.” He listened, nodded once. “OK. Thank you.”
He lowered the phone slowly—but didn’t move.
Alex had gone very still. His eyes never left Randy, as if he feared looking away would lead to something worse.
Colin rose to his feet. Close. But not in the way.
“Pulse is there,” one of them said.
“Let’s get him on oxygen.”
“Copy that.”
Hands moved. Efficient. Practiced.
Joshua took a step forward—then stopped. His hands flexed once at his sides. He swallowed hard. “He said he was okay,” he said quietly.
Colin’s gaze flicked to him—sharp, immediate. But he didn’t answer.
There was nothing to say yet.
“We’re moving,” one of the paramedics said.
“OK,” Colin replied immediately.
Hands moved quickly, lifting Randy to the stretcher. Rolling it down the hall.
The hallway filled with movement again—controlled, urgent. Doors opening. Voices low.
Joshua stepped back against the wall as they passed. Just for a second. Just long enough to close his eyes. Then he pushed off and followed.
“Can I—” Alex started, then stopped.
“Hey.” Nate was suddenly there, a hand on his shoulder. “Stay with us, buddy.”
Alex didn’t argue. He just nodded and followed Nate back into the room.
At the ambulance, the back doors swung open.
“On three,” one of the paramedics said. The stretcher lifted, locked into place with a solid click.
“You riding with us?”
“Yes,” Colin said.
Joshua was already climbing into the vehicle.
Colin crouched near Randy’s shoulder, one hand braced lightly against the rail, not touching—just there. Watching. Counting. Still in it.
Joshua sat back on the narrow bench, hands clasped tight between his knees. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until his lungs began to burn.
“Pulse is holding,” one of them said. “O2 stats are good.”
“Let’s just keep him stable.”
Randy stirred, a low sound in his throat as his eyes fluttered open, unfocused.
Joshua leaned forward slightly.
“Randy?”
No response.
He swallowed. “You don’t get to check out like this,” he said quietly. “Not today.”
Colin’s eyes flicked toward him. Just for a second. Then back to Randy.
The ambulance rocked slightly as it took a turn. Sirens cutting through traffic.
Seconds stretching. Folding in on themselves.
Joshua dragged a hand over his face. “He said he was OK,” he murmured.
This time, his words weren’t quiet enough to ignore.
“I know,” Colin said. Calm. Steady. But softer than before.
“A minute out,” the paramedic called.
Colin nodded once.
Joshua didn’t move. His eyes never left Randy. Watching. Waiting.
The ambulance slowed, then turned hard. The siren cut off. Silence slammed in behind it. The doors flew open.
“Let’s go,” one of the paramedics said.
The stretcher rolled out fast, wheels hitting pavement, then smoother flooring as they pushed through the ER doors, Colin and Joshua clambering after them.
“Incoming!” someone called. Hands took over. Voices overlapped.
“What’ve we got?”
“Sixteen-year-old male, possible ingestion. Awake, altered mental status. Airway intact, breathing spontaneous. Pulse 112, blood pressure 118 over 72, respirations 18, oxygen sat 99%. No known substances as yet.”
“Trauma Room One.” A voice instructed.
Colin stepped back automatically. And just like that—he wasn’t in it anymore.
“Family?” someone asked.
Joshua hesitated. Just a fraction. “No. But we’re with him,” he said.
“Okay. We’ll update you.”
And then they were moving again—taking Randy with them.
The doors to Trauma Room One clicked shut.
And he was gone.
Joshua stood there, staring at the space where Randy had been. His hand lifted slightly—like he meant to reach for something that wasn’t there—then dropped.
For a second, nothing moved. No voices. No motion. Just… empty.
Colin stepped up beside him. Not touching him. Just there.
“He said he was okay,” Joshua said again, staring at the far wall. “I should have… should have…”
A nurse pointed them toward a row of plastic chairs. “Have a seat. Someone will come talk to you.”
Colin took Joshua’s arm and led him to the chairs. “Sit down. This wasn’t you, Josh. Just sit here and breathe with me.”
Joshua nodded automatically. The room hummed around them—phones, voices, movement—but it all felt distant. Muffled. He collapsed onto the chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands pressed together hard enough to hurt.
“I asked him,” he said quietly. “I asked him straight out.”
Colin turned toward him fully now.
“You didn’t miss anything. None of us did.”
Joshua shook his head once. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
Colin reached out and took Joshua’s hand, his grip firm.
He didn’t look at him.
Just held on.
For a second, he was back at the rec center.
But it wasn’t Randy on the floor.
He shut the thought down. Hard.
Every second was too slow.
And somewhere behind that curtain, a life was still being decided.