It takes a while, but I finally get through to Thea. She picks up on the first ring and I tell her it’s me, not Coach.
“Oh my god! Ruby! Where the hell have you been?”
“Is there any way you can get to SHC Med? My mom’s here. I can tell you everything, but I don’t want to suck up what’s left of Coach’s phone charge.”
An hour later, Thea and Juliette arrive at the hospital.
Mila trails behind them, her arm in a cast. I hope it says something that she’s here. That maybe we’ll be okay after all.
It doesn’t look right to see all of them without Iris.
I collide into a group hug with Thea and Juliette while Mila hangs back. I look at her and she shrugs. I pull her in, too. The four of us hang on tight, everyone crying. We cry about the fact that we’re here and Iris isn’t.
Once we collect ourselves, we sit and my friends inundate me with questions. Thea lets me use her phone to text Leo because she has him in her contacts and Coach doesn’t. My text won’t go through and I have to keep trying. My friends listen while I tell them about Charlie. And being trapped.
“Unreal,” Juliette says, shaking her head.
They tell me what happened at the pool when the earthquake hit. How Coach knew what to do and how he kept them safe.
“He tried so hard to save Iris,” Thea says, her voice catching, like she’s seeing it all flash in front of her again.
The same way I keep flashing to the rubble. And my hospital bed. And the stairwell. I keep seeing it. I always will.
“Coach was pretty calm, but he was totally worried about you,” Juliette says. “Grilling all of us about where you were. Like he was personally responsible for your safety.”
“He’d do that for any of us,” I say.
“He took care of Iris like she was his own kid,” Thea says.
“See? It’s not just me.” I look at Mila. “Despite what you want to think about me getting special treatment or whatever.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. It was a messed-up thing to say.”
“You’ve said a lot of messed-up things,” I tell her.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, man, Iris would’ve loved this,” Thea says. “The two of you making up.”
And then we’re all crying again. For the loss of our friend—and life as we knew it.
Until Thea’s phone dings.
“Oh! It’s Leo!” She holds the phone up for me to see the text on the screen.
I’ll be there as fast as I can.
“He’s on his way,” I say, a smile taking over my face as my body floods with relief. Leo is okay. I’m going to see him. I’m going to be able to hug him and hold him and be held by him. I’m so thankful.
“I’m starving,” Juliette says.
I dig into my pocket. Rip open a protein bar and divide it into even squares. We chew slowly, and I try to imagine that the tasteless, sticky lump in my mouth is a slice of pizza instead.
But then Mila says, “This is disgusting.” And we all bust out laughing.
“It’s the worst,” I admit.
“When will we have real food again?” Thea whimpers.
“When will we have water polo practice again?” Juliette says. “Is our season just over?”
“Coach’ll find a way,” I say.
Mila sits quietly next to me. “Wish I could be there,” she finally says. She turns to me. “I haven’t told anyone yet, but I decided to enter treatment. This whole week has been, I don’t know, life-changing, right? For everyone. I’ve had a lot of time to think and . . . I just. . . I don’t want to die.” She swipes at her eyes.
“I don’t want you to die, either.” I pull her into a hug. “And I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I miss my best friend. The one who always had my back. The one who made a pact with me when we were ten years old and the only two girls on a team of boys.”
“I’m going to try to do better,” she mumbles into my shoulder. “I need to get help. And it’s going to be hard.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
“We all are,” Thea says.
“Thanks,” says Mila. “It won’t be easy. I’m sure I’ll need all of you.”
And she’s right. It won’t be easy. Rehab is hard work. She might slip. Stumble. But all I can hope is that she’ll keep trying. She has to try every day.
We hang out a while longer, going floor-to-floor to find something left in a vending machine while swapping our best Iris stories. I’m grateful for the simplicity of the moment. And for the loyalty of my friends.
“Thank you for coming all this way,” I say.
“We had to see you,” Thea says.
“Unfortunately, I think we have to head out now,” Juliette says. “It’s getting dark, and there’s a curfew at the shelter.”
“Totally get it,” I say. “I’ll find my way to you next time.”
We hug again. Promise we’ll keep tabs on one another. Coach comes out of my mom’s room to say goodbye. Tells my friends to be safe. And they’ve got his number if they need him. Or me.
After they go, Coach heads off to ask for something from the nurse’s station.
And then I wait.
When Leo arrives, he reaches out. Pulls me in. I sink.
I fall completely and wholly into the familiar safety of him. He draws me in. Tighter. Closer. Like he can’t believe it’s really me. I know exactly how he feels. And then he pulls back. Touches my face. Making sure I’m here and true. He runs his fingertip over the stitches on my arm. His brow twists with worry.
“I was freaking out, Ruby.”
“I know. Me too.”
He knots his fingers with mine. Kisses each of my knuckles. “I was so bummed about what I said the other day. And how it made you feel. That was the last time we were together. That was the last time I saw you.”
And then I remember what he said about my hands and how upset I got. It seemed like such a big deal when it happened. It doesn’t matter now, but this is what Leo has been worrying about. This wish for different last words. I know how awful that must’ve been, because it’s the same way I’ve been wishing my last conversation with my mom hadn’t been about how she’d ruined my life. We remember the last things we say to people. It’s what was on Charlie’s mind. Maybe even Mila’s. We all want to have a chance to go back and make things right again, but we don’t all get that chance.
But right now Leo does.
And I do.
We’re lucky.
I can say the things I want to say to him. The things I need to say.
“I love you.” I lean in. Kiss him. Push my fingers through his curly hair to pull him closer. I put every ounce of reassurance I can into this moment. Life can change in an instant. It’s important to let the ones you love know how you feel. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I love you. We’re okay.”