My phone kept getting buried under Emmy’s craft stuff spread across the kitchen table.
“Will you come and play with my space station?” Caden asked me. A milk mustache was smeared across his face.
“In a bit,” I told him. I picked up my phone. Maybe if I logged on to the movie listings, Josie or Selena would call.
“Okay. But hurry up.” He dashed out of the room.
Emmy was busy cutting paper, her tongue poking out between her teeth. I had run through all the local movie listings by the time Caden yelled down.
“I’ll be right up,” I answered. I checked to see if Josie and Selena had posted anything on Facebook.
Caden yelled something else I couldn’t understand.
“Daria!” Emmy looked over at me and rolled her eyes. Then she continued cutting.
A text beeped. Josie. U still talking to me? Us? Call me. Now. Im home. Call me. OK? PP.
“I’m going into the living room,” I told Emmy.
“Caden wants you,” she said. “Can’t you hear him?”
“I’ll go up in a minute.”
I was settling onto the couch when I heard thumps overhead. What on earth was the kid doing now? Rearranging the furniture? My phone beeped again. I thought I never wanted to speak to Selena again. But what had Cleo said? There’s always enough friendship to go around.
“Hi,” is all I said. I didn’t plan to make this easy.
“I know you’re mad at us,” Josie said. “I don’t blame you. Honest, Dari. It wasn’t my idea…”
“You could have stood up for me.”
“I tried. But I swear. It was Selena’s mom. We didn’t stand a chance once she suggested it to Justine’s mom.”
“I can’t believe—”
“I know. She’ll wreck the whole trip. You know Justine’s allergic to almost everything, right? And you know what? She’s bilingual, she says. I bet she’s going to practice all the way to Quebec.”
I held my hand against one ear to shut out the noise from upstairs. “Comment allez-vous?” I said in my clunkiest accent. “Voulez-vous danser avec moi?”
Josie laughed. “Mais oui, monsieur. But I guess it might be useful having someone who speaks it,” she said.
“If you say so.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Honest, Daria. I hate that you’re not coming with us. Hey, did I tell you about this great shirt I bought at Mexx last week?” And suddenly it was as if we were in the same room instead of separated by a thousand kilometers and a bunch of mountains.
As I lay back with my feet on the arm of the couch, the door flew open. “Go away, Emmy.” I held the phone against my chest. “I won’t be long.”
She charged at me. “You’ve got to come. Caden is hurt.” She grabbed my arm.
“Just a minute.” I tried to shake free.
Her hard little fingers dug into me. “Caden’s hurt,” she shrieked. “There’s blood all over the floor. He won’t get up. You’ve got to come!”
I threw down my phone and raced after Emmy. I overtook her halfway up the stairs and charged into Caden’s room.
It was empty.
“He’s in Mom and Dad’s room,” Emmy screeched.
Caden lay on the floor between the bed and the dresser. One arm was flung above his head. The other was twisted underneath his body. His face was white, his eyes closed. Around his head was a pool of sticky dark blood.
Emmy dropped down beside him. “Cady. Wake up.” She patted his face. His eyelids quivered, but he did not open his eyes.
“Don’t touch him,” I yelled. What had they taught us in First Aid? Something about pressing on the wound. But where was it?
Then I remembered another instruction. Don’t move the patient.
But I couldn’t leave him there. I hooked my arm under his shoulders and pulled him across my lap. I felt wetness smearing along my arm.
“Is he dead?” stammered Emmy.
“Of course he isn’t,” I said. But how could I tell? He was so still and pale. “We have to call an ambulance. Get my phone.”
“I want Mommy.” Emmy’s sobs grew louder. “Caden is going to die, isn’t he?”
“Stop saying that!” I could hear the panic in my voice. “We have to call nine-one-one.”
She sat back on her heels, hugging herself. “I want Mommy.”
Caden lay like a dead weight in my lap. “Emmy.” I struggled to keep my voice low and level to make her do as she was told without frightening her. “You have to call nine-one-one. It’s very important. Or get me the phone. You have to do it right now. Do you hear me?”
“Okay.” She was shaking. Her eyes were blank.
“Get up now. Go downstairs. Bring me my phone.”
Emmy looked around.
“Emerson!” I couldn’t keep the panic out of my voice.
She stood up and turned around.
“It’s downstairs,” I said. “Call nine-one-one. Do you know your address?”
“9631 Lakeview Crescent, Delta, BC, Canada.” Emmy spoke slowly as if she was memorizing it. “9631…”
“Emmy! Get my phone,” I yelled. “Now!”
“There’s one here.” She picked it up from the table under the window.
I took a deep breath. “Dial nine-one-one. Can you do that?”
“We learned that in Brownies.”
“That’s great.” I tried to keep my voice normal, even though my heart pounded in my chest like a hammer. “Now dial. Tell them where we are. Then hold the phone up to my ear so I can hear what they say.”
Emerson prodded the keypad. She pressed the phone to her own ear for a moment before she held it toward me. “Do we need the police or the ambulance?”
“Ambulance!” The pool of blood seeping into the carpet seemed bigger and darker.
“Ambulance, please.” Now Emerson spoke as coolly as if she was asking for a peanut-butter sandwich. She repeated the address twice. Then she leaned across Caden and held the phone toward me.
It took all of my self-control to answer the dispatcher’s questions. To repeat everything twice. Admitting that yes, I had moved Caden. That he was not conscious. But that I could feel him breathing. “There’s blood,” I said. “Lots of it.” My voice was shaking.
Emerson was huddled on the floor next to me. Tears streamed down her face. Her red and swollen eyes did not leave my face.
“No, I don’t know where it’s coming from,” I said into the phone.
“Stay on the line with me,” said the dispatcher. “Can you do that? Emergency Services will be there in about six minutes.”
“Hurry. Please.”
“Don’t hang up. Can you put a blanket over the little boy?”
I eased one hand from under Caden and dragged the quilt off the bed behind me. I draped it over him and across my own shoulder. Emmy tucked herself against my side.
Six minutes had never seemed so long. I held Caden while his sister’s sobs vibrated against my arm. I should comfort her. But all I could think of was the little boy in my arms and the blood soaking my sleeve and spreading around us.
The dispatcher suddenly said, “Daria. They’re at the house now. Is the door open?”
I could hear sirens on the street. Then banging downstairs.
“It’s them!” Emerson dashed out of the room.
“Hello!” Voices from the front hall were followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs. “It’s the paramedics.”
“Everything’s fine,” I whispered to Caden. “You’ll be fine now.”
It sounded good. Even if I did not believe it.