The last time I was in a hospital, I was sick. Too sick to pay attention to the stark white walls and antiseptic smell. The odor crawls up my nostrils, making my stomach turn and my fingertips tingle as my mom catches up to me.
Inside here, people are being born and dying.
One day Baby Kat was born here and a few weeks later her parents brought her back, sick with the measles, and they didn’t get to bring her home again.
Please let Nico be able to go home.
We head to the information kiosk in the lobby, where a man with a shock of white hair and tiny round glasses tells us Nico’s on the third floor. He hands us bright yellow visitor stickers and directs us to the elevator doors.
Mrs. Noble is talking to someone at the nurses’ station when the doors open on Nico’s floor. I rush to her.
“Is he okay?” I ask breathlessly.
“He is. He’s going to be fine, thanks to you.”
“What a relief,” my mom says, exhaling. “I’m Juniper’s mom, Melinda,” she says, reaching out to shake Mrs. Noble’s hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Melinda. I’m Adriana.”
My whole body decompresses with relief. “I was so worried.”
“You poor thing,” Nico’s mom says, pulling me into a hug. She holds on tight, anchoring herself. “I’m so glad you were there,” she murmurs into my ear. “My greatest fear, aside from this actually happening, was that he’d be alone if it did.” She pulls away. Looks me in the eye. “Thank you.”
“It was scary,” I blurt. There’s no reason to be anything other than honest. “But I’m glad I was there, too.”
Nico’s mom turns to mine. “You have an amazing daughter.”
My mom smiles. “I think so, too. But it’s always nice to hear it from someone else.”
“I’ve been so impressed by her. She really goes after what she wants.”
My backbone goes straight. If I’d been drinking water, I surely would’ve choked on it. Did Mrs. Noble say too much? Did she flat-out drop a hint? In my mind, she might as well have told my mom to expect a court notice in the mail any day now. But I guess it’s only obvious to me, because my mom seems to take the statement at face value, saying thank you and moving on.
“Can I see Nico?” I ask, peeling the backing off the sticker and fastening it to the front pocket of my flannel. I probably should’ve changed clothes, but in the flurry of everything, I didn’t think to toss my dirt-stained shirt into the hamper.
“Yes. I know he wants to see you,” Mrs. Noble says, leaning closer. “Between you and me, I think he’s afraid what happened might’ve scared you off.”
“No way.”
“Good.” She loops our arms together at the elbows and pats my hand. “How about I show you to his room and then maybe your mom and I can grab a cup of tea downstairs.” She turns to my mom. “What do you say, Melinda?”
“Yes. I’d like that.”
“Great.”
Great? What will they talk about now?
Mrs. Noble leads me down the hallway to Nico’s room, while my mom waits by the elevator.
“Please don’t tell her about Laurel,” I say. “I can’t deal with that today.”
“I would never say anything. You have my word.”
“Okay. I trust you.”
She knocks, then pushes open the door to Nico’s room. I run to his side. The swelling has gone down and he seems to be breathing fine without oxygen. But he still looks like he’s been through hell. The color in his face is still faded, almost gray, and his eyes don’t look as bright and excited as I’m used to seeing. They’re filled with something else. A mixture of fear and relief.
“I’ll give you some time together,” Mrs. Noble says. “You’re good, right, honey?” she says to Nico.
He gives her a thumbs-up. “Stellar.”
“Love you.” She blows him a kiss as the door clicks shut behind her.
I set his phone on the table by the bed. Grab his hand. “You look so much better.”
“Sure. Aside from the hospital bed and the sick-person gown.”
“Nah. Puke green is a good color on you.”
“Thanks.”
I look around the room. “How long are you stuck here?”
“They wanna keep me overnight for observation. Monitor stuff. It’s a whole thing.”
“One night isn’t so bad.”
He reaches for me and I sit down next to him.
“Are you freaking out?” he asks. I can hear the worry in his voice. I can see it on his face.
“Not even.”
“You were freaking out on the cliffs when it happened.”
“Well, yeah. Who wouldn’t? I was afraid you were going to…” I can’t finish the rest.
“Die.”
“Nico. I was worried. I already have Katherine St. Pierre on my conscience. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.” I brush the hair back from his forehead, and the warmth of his skin heats my fingertips. “But you’re fine. Look at you.” I realize I sound like my mom telling me I was fine after the measles. Dismissive. Because I wasn’t fine, and neither is Nico. These kinds of things can change a person forever. “I mean, you’re okay now. And hopefully it’ll never happen again.”
“There’s no guarantee. Unless I walk around in a hazmat suit.”
“That’d be kind of hot. Like a man in uniform.” I nudge him with my elbow. “I probably wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
“Your hands wouldn’t be able to get onto me.”
“I’d make it work.” I lean over him, and my hair slides down like a curtain around us. I press my forehead to his. “I care about you. So much.” I kiss his mouth. “Please wear a hazmat suit.”
“Should I wear it to the Snow Ball?”
I pull back. Crinkle my brow. “I thought dances were a hard pass.”
“I changed my mind. I think I should go. I want to. With you.”
“Are you sure? You’ll have to dress up. In a real suit.”
“Positive. I think I can handle wearing a tie for one night.”
“I can’t wait to see you in a tie.”
I lie down next to him. Kiss him again. His mouth. His cheeks. His forehead. I pull his hand to my lips and kiss it right where the bee stung him.
“You’re good at making things better,” he says.
“I try.” I rest my head on his chest and look around the room. “So where’s the remote, then? We need to watch TV all day.”
“Ah. So the truth comes out. You’re using me for my tiny hospital room television.” He laughs and I love feeling the rumble of it underneath my ear.
“Never.”
He kisses the top of my head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“Okay, then. Maybe a little.” I kick my feet excitedly as he hands me the remote. “Ooh, maybe we can watch that ice movie you were talking about.”
“That ice movie? Call it by its name, please. You know I have high standards.” He laughs into my hair. “Say it with me: The Ice Storm.”
I poke him. “You’re my favorite film snob.”