Chapter 28

I STILL DON’T WAKE UP

I sit in the wheelchair and breathe deeply. That’s when I notice that Mrs. Morris’s eyes are still open—and they’re looking at me.

Those dead eyes completely unnerve me. They look like Mrs. Morris’s eyes, but with none of their warmth and energy—no sparkle. I lean forward and try to close them, but it’s not as easy as it looks in the movies—her eyelids spring open again, which makes me let out a little scream. I jump back into the wheelchair, completely freaked.

How long will it take for the ambulance to get here? I wonder. Well, however long it is—that’s too long. The operator is still talking, asking me questions that I don’t even realize I’m murmuring answers to. But I can’t hang out with Mrs. Morris’s dead eyes on me, and I’m not going to just go up to my room and rearrange my bookshelf, either. It isn’t easy to just sit in a room with someone you love who’s now dead.

And before I know what I’m doing, I’ve tossed the phone on to the couch and rolled right through the front door and down the ramp. I don’t even pause to get out of the wheelchair—that’s how freaked out I am.

The air is cold on my face as I wheel down the street. It’s the first day of January, but we haven’t had much snow, so the sidewalks are clear as I race beneath the bare trees. My face stings, and I realize that it’s because my tears are starting to freeze.

A few lights come on, but I keep going.

I circle the block, and by the time I get back, the blue and red ambulance lights are flickering against the front of our house. A police car is there, too.

I roll up the ramp in the wheelchair, and a tall police officer with a big nose tries to stop me. “Sorry, miss,” he says. “There’s been an accident.”

“I know,” I explain. “I’m the one who called 911.”

The officer is really nice then. I follow him into the kitchen while the paramedics take care of Mrs. Morris. Of course, I have to answer a lot of questions. I’m a little muddy brained, but I answer as well as I can. I have to take a lot of breaks, though. I can’t quite catch my breath.

Finally, the short officer says, “You’ll have to come with us to the hospital. There’s a lot of paperwork, I’m afraid.”

“Okay,” I say, standing up.

I don’t think they were expecting that.