Chapter 29

My alarm clock tells me it is nine-fifteen in the morning. My windowless room is lit only by ambient daylight from the hallway. The house is quiet. I know Patty will have left over an hour ago, so the clatter and clink sounds in the distance must be Mom.

I retrieve my hair elastic from my end table nightstand and tie back my messy hair. I want to stay in my room to decompress, but I need the bathroom. And I’m hungry. It will be hard not to tell Mom about last night’s dream, but I’ll have to try.

Akasha died of natural causes — more specifically, a disease. So what am I doing chasing some kind of justice or closure for her? What could Akasha possibly want from me? A locket? My former self must have been a sentimental drama queen to go to so much trouble over recovering a piece of jewelry. It has to be something else. But what?

“Katelyn, it’s time to get ready. We need to be back at the hospital by ten-fifteen. They need to prep you for the ten-thirty scan,” says Mom, calling down the hall from the kitchen.

I’m dressed with my hair in a loose ponytail moments later. Mom shoves a dry bowl of cereal at me and points out a milk carton on the counter. We’re in the car before nine-thirty.

Re-entering the BC Children’s Hospital feels routine today. We know where we’re going; Mom scouted out the Department of Radiology before.

We check in and I’m ushered to an examination room where I change into a white gown covered in pink teddy bears. I really am in a children’s hospital. I sneak a quick glance in the mirror while I retie my ponytail. My baby blue eyes look darker for a moment. I blink and my irises are normal again.

Dr. Werdiger is nowhere in sight, but a nurse is waiting to take me to a dark room with a long shell-like bed with a huge white ring behind it. A small cupped pillow marks where I’ll rest my head. She asks me to lie down and helps me into the right position. Now I’m scared.

“Try not to move while we’re doing the scan. Lie as still as you can. Don’t worry about the odd finger twitch or your breathing, but if you shift or move your body, the head will move as well and we won’t get a clear picture,” says the nurse.

“Don’t worry. I’m scared stiff. There’s no danger of me moving.”

“It’ll be over before you know it.” The nurse touches my arm and smiles before retreating to a desk in the corner.

I hear a long beep. And then nothing. Then the bed lifts a few inches and slides backward, inserting me into the white ring. I open my eyes for a moment and it feels like I’m inside a huge donut. The bed moves again gently and I try not to flinch, snapping my eyes shut instead. I am moved back again, forward again, and then the lights come on.

“We’re all done. You can chat with your doctor to get the results,” says the nurse.

She leads me back to the examination room and tells me to dress. As soon as I’m back in my t-shirt and jeans, a knock on the door startles me. The nurse comes in before I can answer.

“Dr. Werdiger would like you to wait here for the results.”

“What about my mom? Where is she?”

“I’ll send her in.” The nurse is gone as quickly as she barged in.

Mom replaces her a few minutes later.

“I thought we weren’t going to get these results until we got home to Nelson,” says Mom.

“I guess he’s got time for us today,” I say, just as confused.

As we wait in silence, thoughts start to bubble up through my brain. Maybe Dr. Werdiger wants to talk to us right away because something bad came up on the scan. Something bad and urgent. What could be so important he can’t wait to talk to us?

“Mom, do you think we’d get in trouble if we just left anyway?”

“I don’t think we’d get in trouble, but we’d probably have to come back. Doctors don’t usually give test results over the phone.”

“Maybe he got sidetracked somewhere,” she adds. I can see she’s getting nervous too. We scroll away on our phones for a while. I close the blog I was reading and check the time. It’s past noon. We’ve been waiting for almost an hour.

A knock at the door finally comes.

“Sorry for the wait, ladies. Okay, I’ve got good news and bad news,” Dr. Werdiger says casually as he steps into our fear-filled closet of an exam room.

“What?” Mom clamps her hand over her mouth. I can see from Dr. Werdiger’s demeanor that it’s not that grim, but “bad news” is all Mom heard him say.

“Sorry, Mrs. Medena, I shouldn’t have put it like that. What I meant to say is that Katelyn’s scan is normal. The bad news is that we don’t have fresh insight as to what might be troubling her. I’m going to recommend continued appointments with your original psychiatrist in Nelson. And if you see any other indications of fugue states or otherwise not lucid waking incidents, please contact a medical professional immediately.”

“But she’s okay?”

“He just said that, Mom.” She shoots me a glare but there’s more relief in her eyes than anger.

“Yes, she’s fine.”

Mom hugs me.

“All right. Let’s get home and pack,” says Mom.

I think briefly of our narrow old house back in Nelson. And then I remember our date with the Mann family.