Lily texted me just now. The plans have changed—Charlie is insisting that he and Brian have a drink with us, but she’ll drop me off at Nick’s after. That’s not what I want, but I can hold out a little longer—a short delay shouldn’t change anything.
SOMETIMES TIME MOVES LIKE A movie, a continuous shot. Other times, it moves like a slideshow, a series of distinct separate moments.
And after I drank from the flask, each moment was a freeze-frame, something I was watching from outside myself, sharper and more real than reality had ever been before.
Charlie, his face contorted and purple with rage, his foot raised to kick me in the ribs.
Mona’s mouth open in a scream as she punched out at Charlie.
Charlie shoving her away.
The blow from Charlie’s foot that connected with my face, the blood rushing into my mouth.
I watched it all, tasted the blood, felt the impact. It felt so very far away. Like it was receding into the distance, like it would all soon disappear. Like I would soon disappear. And I closed my eyes and curled up tight, readying myself to go.
It was okay, I thought, even as I began to slip away.
I’d been so tired, and maybe now I’d have a chance to rest.
And the last thing I registered, before everything went still, was that in the far distance there was a sound not unlike sirens.
I’m starting to get nervous. Or maybe I’m excited. I’m not sure.
All I really know is that in the morning, I’ll be another person again. Even if it doesn’t work out with Nick, the photo will be gone and I’ll be different again. I’ll be out of the well.
In the morning, it will all be in the past.
WE’RE LYING TOGETHER ON THE bottom bunk. Her hair is in my face, but I don’t mind. Her hair is the same as mine, after all. The exact same.
“The apples were red this time,” I tell her. “Red with flecks of yellow and green.”
“And what were you reading?”
I like how she always asks, always acts like these details interest her. So little varies, there’s not much to report otherwise.
I close my eyes, try to think back. It’s a blank. “I don’t remember. You were reading Shakespeare, though.”
“Which play?”
I close my eyes again. This I can see. Her sitting across from me, the cover of what she was reading—a girl on a balcony, a boy waiting for her below. “Romeo and Juliet.”
“Next time you should make it a happier one, a comedy.”
I smile and shake my head, my cheek pressing against the warm pillow. “I can’t control it. If I could, then I’d dream something more interesting to begin with.”
“Maybe you could control the details, though. If you tried. If you tried hard enough.”
She sounds sad. I don’t understand why.
“I’ll try,” I say, because I don’t want her to sound sad anymore. “It may not work, but I’ll try.”
“Okay.” She pauses. “Did you really have to drink all of it?”
I don’t know what she means. “I didn’t drink anything. It was just apples. Just books and apples and us all in the living room. Same as always.”
“Jess.”
“Same as always. I promise.” I try to laugh, try to show her that it’s okay. That she doesn’t need to be sad anymore. The laugh doesn’t come out right. It sounds more like a sob.
“Jess.”
I shake my head. The pillow feels colder this time. “Come on, tell me about your dreams. They’ll be better than mine.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Please,” I say.
“No, I have to get up now.” And she begins to sit up, to move away.
“I’ll come with you.” I start to move, to follow her, but she shakes her head.
“No. You have to stay.”
“I don’t want to stay here by myself. I want to come with you.”
“I’m so sorry, Jess,” she tells me, her voice so quiet that I have to hold my breath to hear her. “But I can’t let you do that.”
I know you probably won’t have heard any of this. That you’re probably fast asleep.
That’s okay.
In the morning, I’ll tell you everything.
EVEN WITHOUT OPENING MY EYES, I knew it was light outside. I must have overslept, I thought with a jolt. I must have slept through my alarm. I struggled to wake up fully, to get moving, but I found it surprisingly hard to surface. Things were off, somehow.
I tried to concentrate, to pinpoint what was different. The first thing I noticed was the throbbing pain in my hand. The second thing I noticed was that I had my arm wrapped around something large and warm. This was confusing, so without opening my eyes, I used my undamaged hand to poke it.
The thing jerked away. “Ow,” it said. “That hurt.”
I opened my eyes. “Sarah?”
“The one and only,” she said. She sat up and stretched. “Oh, yes. God, it feels good to move. You were latched on like a damn spider monkey.”
“Why are you sleeping in my bed?” I asked her. My voice came out rough and gravelly.
“We’re not in your bed, Jess.”
This made no sense, so I raised myself up on my elbows as best I could and glanced around.
Huh. She was right. This was most definitely not my bed, or even my bedroom.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital. You’ve been coming in and out of consciousness for a while now. You talked to your parents an hour or two ago—well, mumbled to them a little. They went to get some coffee, now that you’re out of the woods, but they’ll be back soon.”
“Okay,” I said. I don’t remember that, talking to them, but I believe her.
She tilted her head. “Do you remember anything? About what happened?”
I closed my eyes. There was a lot of gray, and my thoughts had a hard time coming together. I remembered asphalt and pain and…“Charlie? The flask?”
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s right.”
More started to come back, yet…I stared at her. “I thought it was Mona there,
