Send Me a Sign(91)

“Finally,” Hil answered. “I’ve been sitting here for almost two hours, and I have to go soon.”

I scooted over on the bed and she climbed up next to me. We leaned against each other, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, and stared at the wall in front of us.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she reflected with a wry laugh. “Remember all our plans for a perfect senior year?”

“Do you get why I couldn’t tell you?” I asked.

“No.”

“You wouldn’t have let me mope. You would’ve gotten the whole squad to—I don’t know—shave their heads in solidarity. You would’ve been there for me. Right?”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“I didn’t want to be held accountable. Lauren let me wallow in self-pity and hide from this—at least at first she did. And if she had a bad reaction when I told her and she rejected me, oh well. I didn’t think I could handle that from you.”

“I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m going to be fine.” Each time I said it, I was more confident it was true.

“Promise?” Hil turned to look at me, her face overwhelmed by her large, worried eyes.

“I can’t promise, but everything looks good and I believe I’ll get better.”

She gave me a smile. “That’s good enough for me—I’ve never seen you not meet a goal. I mean, you even got Ryan Winters to beg to be your boyfriend.”

“Is he okay?” He had kept his word and hadn’t visited. My fingers traced the chain around my neck. It didn’t feel right to wear Ryan’s heart post-breakup, but I needed to fidget, so the chain stayed. I’d punched a hole in one of Gyver’s picks and wore that instead.

Hil rolled her eyes. “He’s Ryan Winters; there are already new hook-up rumors. Though I think they’re more girls’ wishful thinking than truth. I’m sure he’ll be fine. Mostly, he and Chris have been locked away doing ‘guy stuff.’ What do you think that even means?”

“We watch musicals and eat chocolate; maybe they eat wings and watch war movies?” I suggested, then giggled. “But seriously, how awesome would it be if they’re at Chris’s watching Annie or Grease?”

She threw her arms around my neck; I hugged back just as greedily. “God, you’re not allowed to go AWOL again, Summer Girl. Okay? Whatever happens, you tell me!”

“Deal,” I agreed.

She let go. “Welcome back. Also, I expect you to come out for winter cheerleading. We can figure out how to deal with missed practices. We can’t figure out how to miss you.”

Before I could respond or tear up, she added, “Though it totally sucks you can’t tumble, because the new recruits are hopeless at it.”

I laughed and shook my head. Hil would always be Hil. From the hallway I heard Mary Poppins Nurse—Mariah—call, “Hello, handsome.”

My favorite voice responded, “How’s our girl today?”

I turned to Hil. “Gyver’s coming. You have to be nice. Gyver’s my …” I trailed off. Boyfriend didn’t seem right, not strong enough. “Gyver’s mine.”

Hil laughed, her throaty, haughty laugh. “Gyver’s always been yours. Why do you think I wanted-slash-hated him so much?”

“Can you be satisfied with every other male? What about Chris?”

“Am I the biggest hypocrite for hiding him all fall and giving you grief about dating?”

“Yes, but it really wasn’t so hidden—we all knew. Play nice with him; he’s crazy about you.” I would’ve said more but Gyver knocked and entered.

I smiled like a fool; I couldn’t help it. “Hey.” My voice was whispery, girly, ridiculous.

“Hey, Mi.” He answered with a matching smile and extended eye contact before acknowledging the impatient girl beside me. “Hi, Hillary.”

“Hey, Mac ‘n’ Cheese.” She wiped her cheeks, smoothed her hair, and stood.

“You know, I don’t actually like that name,” he said, but his voice was amused, so I relaxed back against my pillow.

“I know.” She gave me, then Gyver, impromptu hugs and walked to the door, turning around and grinning at our shocked expressions. “I’ll call you later, Mia.”

Gyver claimed his spot and my hand. “Hi.”

“Speaking of calls, I called you from the dance.”

“I know. I called back, and Hillary answered from the ambulance. I drove here like a maniac.”

“I thought you didn’t pick up because you were mad.”

“No. That’s not why.” Gyver took my hand in both of his. I could see a flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Why?”

“It’s embarrassing. You know, this is what I always thought your hospital room should look like.” He pointed to the cards, flowers, and stuffed animals, sent by classmates and crowding all flat surfaces.

“Nice try, but I’m not that easily distracted. You, embarrassed? This I’ve got to hear.” I tugged on his hand.

“I didn’t answer because I was out in my backyard.”

“Why? It was freezing.”