“I think he’s still alive!” I shout it at the top of my lungs, and I don’t hear my friends come running because of the static in my ears, a high steady rush of panic. I don’t hear them come running, but then they’re there, and Roya is next to me again, pressing her fingers to the skin under Josh’s jaw, and then to his wrist, and then to the inside of his thigh.
“No.” She shakes her head. “There’s no pulse, but—”
“But he’s warm,” Iris says, and she’s across from us, touching Josh too. Everyone is touching him. Iris’s hands start to flicker with uncontrolled light—she still hasn’t figured out how to manage her magic without looking at it. “He’s warm, maybe we can—”
“Don’t,” Maryam warns. “Don’t try to heal him—remember what happened last time? And besides, you can’t—”
“But we have to—” Marcelina starts, and before she can finish, Roya and Iris have locked eyes and shifted positions. Iris cups Josh’s head, pushing his jaw forward and gripping the base of his skull. Roya laces her fingers together and presses the heels of her hands into Josh’s sternum, presses hard and rhythmic, again and again, counting under her breath.
His arm flops around with each compression, and I look for the birthmark that I didn’t notice when I was on top of him in his bedroom after prom. But then I realize I’m looking at the wrong arm.
The other one’s missing, torn off at the shoulder. I remember the blood on the coyote’s muzzle. Did she know she was helping us, or was she just taking her percentage?
I’m frozen. I’m useless. I’m not doing anything. They’re trying to bring him back, doing CPR like—like they’ve practiced a hundred times, like they learned just in case, and I’m just sitting here thinking about a missing arm. I’m not doing anything. I have to do something.
After a minute, they switch places. Iris mutters, “Do we do breaths? I can’t remember, they changed it,” and Roya says, “Don’t worry about it, just take over,” and then Iris is doing compressions. As she presses down, something in Josh’s chest makes a crackling noise.
“Hey,” Roya says, looking me in the eyes. “Call my mom.”
“But—” I hesitate, but she keeps her eyes locked on mine as she holds Josh by the head, and I nod. “Right. Right, yeah.” I take my phone out of my pocket and make the call.
As soon as Roya’s mom picks up, I start talking. “We found him, we found Josh, we’re doing CPR, he’s here—”
“Where?” she interrupts.
“Where?” I repeat, realizing I have no fucking clue where we are. “Um, we’re—it’s a little off the path, it’s—”
“Are you with people? Do they know where the trail is?” Her voice is calm, direct, and I want to lean into it. She knows what to do. Someone knows what to do.
“Yeah, hang on, let me—” I look to Marcelina, who’s standing frozen, gripping Paulie’s arm. “Do you know where the trail is from here?” She nods. “Yeah, okay, Marcelina knows where it is.”
“Give her the phone,” Roya’s mom says, and I do. Marcelina doesn’t take her eyes off Josh as they talk. I watch her because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know what to do.
She hangs up and gives me back the phone. “She told me to go find the trail, and then call her and tell her, uh.” She pauses, staring at Josh, until I snap my fingers at her. “Right. I’m supposed to call and tell her what marker we’re at, and she’ll come meet us.”
“I’ll go with you,” Maryam says softly, and Paulie doesn’t say anything, but together they all disappear into the trees, back the way we came.
“Fuck,” Iris whispers. “I don’t think this is working.”
“One more round,” Roya says.
“Can I help?” I ask, and Iris nods.
She grabs me and pulls me to where she’s kneeling, behind Josh’s head, and she shows me how to hold his head in place. His hair is so soft, the way it was when I buried his head in Marcelina’s woods near that broken tree. “Just like that,” she says. “Hold him still just like that. You’re keeping his airway clear so he can breathe if—if that’s something that can happen again.”
His body jolts every time Roya shoves the heels of her hands into his chest. I stare into his face, a face I kissed. This boy who would be alive if it wasn’t for me. I try to hold his head steady enough. If I just hold his head the right way, maybe he’ll breathe.
Please let this work, I think. Please let us save him. Please please please—
There’s crashing in the trees, and voices, and then everyone is everywhere. I hold Josh’s head as Roya and Iris stand up, as hands grip my shoulders to try to pull me away. If I hold his head, he might breathe, and they don’t understand, and they’re trying to pull me away. I open my mouth to yell at them—but then there’s a hand on my shoulder, and Paulie’s sending a sharp spark of magic into me, enough to jolt me away from Josh. She puts her hands under my armpits and hauls me up and away from him.
“Let them help,” she whispers in my ear, pulling me away from the body. “We’ve done what we can do.”
I look up. Everyone is here—Paulie and Roya and Marcelina and Maryam and Iris, and Roya’s mom, and the gray-haired cop from the school, and a half dozen others, all crowding around and doing things to help. They’re all helping, and I’m just … here. Useless.
I can’t fix it.
Paulie leads me to where our friends stand, half-huddled in a circle, leaning on each other. They look exhausted. Roya is flushed and sweating, and her eyes have taken on the
