Toxic (Ruin, #2)(25)

“As I said…” I offered a weak smile. “I’m Saylor and—”
I was losing them.
Already the eyes were glazing over. I knew some of the patients had memory issues, others struggled with mental handicaps, and I was boring them to tears.
Screw it. I raised my hand, “Who wants to make noise?”
“Me! Me! Me!” The girl from the front jumped into the air and started dancing while cheers erupted around her.
“Awesome.” I smiled and started handing out the different instruments. I had recorders — you know, like the plastic looking flutes you get in fifth grade music class — a cow bell, a miniature piano, a harmonica, and three drums.
Yeah, we weren’t going to be winning any Grammy’s, but I had tried to pick out instruments I knew Eric would like, and although he hated loud noises, he was totally okay with being the one making them.
Last year Mom had bought him a drum set.
My ears had been recovering ever since.
“I want drums!” The old man got up from his seat, hobbled toward me, jerked the sticks right out of my hands, and brought the small drum back to his seat, smiling the whole time like I’d just given him a new hearing aid.
The girl who liked sailing picked out the recorder.
It took me fifteen minutes to get all the instruments out, mainly because every time I offered one, someone else piped up that they wanted it. I broke the groups up. The recorders sat in one section, the drums in another, and so forth.
“What about Princess?” a voice asked.
I turned around and scanned the room, squinting as I tried to identify the person who had spoken.
“Over here,” she said smoothly, her voice was high-pitched but really pretty and clear, almost childlike.
I turned to my right and noticed a girl in a wheelchair sitting in the corner. She had really long blonde hair pulled back into a scrunchie and was wearing an Oregon Ducks sweatshirt.
Her smile reminded me of Eric, innocent and hopeful. Her hands were laid out in front of her, lifeless, and there was a bumper on either side of her head, keeping her facing forward.
“What would you like to play?” I took a few steps toward her. “I have drums left, but if you have any ideas I can get you something else.”
“Guitar.” Her mouth fell open a bit, as if she couldn’t control it, and then her smile returned. “I want to play guitar like my Parker.”
“Parker?” I repeated, my smile widening. “And who is this Parker?”
“Oh.” Her eyes were bright, but there were dark circles underneath them like she hadn’t gotten much rest in the past decade. “He’s my best friend.”
“Best friends are nice,” I said softly, the words clogging my throat as I watched her mouth fall open again and then close. Her eyes struggled to focus on me and then she blinked a few times, like she was clearing cobwebs.
“Guitar.” She coughed softly. “I want to play Parker’s guitar.”
“Guitar it is.” I looked down at her hands. They weren’t moving; she had to be paralyzed. How the heck was I going to get her to play guitar if she couldn’t move her hands?
“Ask Miss Janice, she’ll bring it out.”
“Miss Janice…” I stood to my full height, put my hands on my hips, and searched around the room, reading each nametag as I went.
“Red hat.” The girl said. “It’s a big red hat.”
“Huh?”
My eyes fell on a red hat, then the nametag. Janice. “Be right back.”
I jogged over. “Hey, I’m Saylor, a freshman at UW. I’m teaching the music workshop, and that girl over there said something about a guitar.”
The woman’s smile fell as her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, well, she can’t play it. It’s not hers.”
“But she said something about a Parker. Would he mind, you think?”
Janice’s eyes softened. “Honey, that girl is very special to Parker. It doesn’t take much to set her off, and when she remembers she can’t play guitar or even move her hands — she’s going to lose it. It’s near impossible to calm her down.”
“But maybe if I just brought the guitar over—”
“I’m sorry. No.” The woman offered a sad smile before walking away.
Well, crap.
Empty-handed I returned to the girl. “What’s your name anyways?”
“Princess.” She giggled and then coughed a bit, her face struggling to get the cough out. Like her body wasn’t strong enough to actually use the muscles needed for such a strenuous action.
“Okay, Princess.” I leaned down so we were face to face. “Martha’s grouchy today.”
She giggled more.
“So we have to do something illegal.”
Her eyes grew wide as saucers. “What are we going to do?”
“We…” My voice fell to a whisper. “…Are going to steal a guitar.”
“Oh yes!” Her neck strained as her head moved back and forth. “Yes! Can we, please? Parker would laugh so hard. He would laugh. I miss his laugh.” Her smile fell, her face clouded.
“Hey.” I touched her arm even though I knew she couldn’t feel it. “Why don’t I put you on look out? If anyone sees me steal the guitar, or if they’re watching. I want you to yell, ‘Ahoy Matey!’”
That did it.
Fits of laughter poured out of her. “You’re really funny.”
“Glad someone thinks so.” I winked. Gosh, she reminded me so much of Eric it made my heart clench. I missed that kid.