***

            I must have sat under those trees for a good hour before I moved. My legs were stiff and I hobbled back to my bike, knowing it was time to head back into town. I’d given some thought to buying a tent and just staying out here forever, but that doesn’t work so well in real life. Maybe after I turned eighteen. I’d have to see if I still felt as crappy then as I did now.

            I pedaled home slowly, this time paying more attention to where I was going so I’d end up where I was actually trying to get. That’s the thing about wandering aimlessly—sure, it’s awesome, but you’ve got to get back home sometime and it’s good when you know where you are. By the time I pulled up in front of my house, it was around three o’clock, and I’d pounded a lot of my frustration into the pedals.

            My cell phone was buzzing like crazy on the counter when I walked into the kitchen. Oh, yeah—I’d forgotten to take it with me. That hadn’t been the best thing to do—girl goes off into the woods on a bike and doesn’t take her cell phone. I’d have to remember that next time I was super upset and needing to run away from it all.

            I had five text messages and three missed calls. No surprises—they were all from Dylan and Amanda. I couldn’t handle Amanda’s puppy-dog-like devotion right then, so I dialed Dylan.

            “Hey,” he said after the first ring. “Where have you been?”

            “I needed some time.”

            “Well, did you get some?”

            “Yeah. Hey, have you got a car today?”

            “What do you need?”

            “A ride to the hospital.”

            “Be there in ten.”

            I loved how I didn’t have to explain myself. Dylan was pretty cool that way.

            By the time he picked me up, I had brushed the leaves out of my hair, changed my pants, and washed my face. I now looked a little less like a forest urchin. I grabbed an apple off the counter and pulled the door closed behind me after making sure that I had keys and my phone.

            “So where’d you go?” Dylan asked as he pulled the car out onto the street.

            “Long bike ride.”

            “You didn’t call Amanda.”

            I shook my head. “I just . . . she loves me a little too much sometimes.”

            He didn’t say anything, but he nodded once. I think he got it. Amanda is the best friend ever. She would do anything for me, never let me wallow in self-pity, insist on cheering me up. And I didn’t want that. I needed to wallow for a little while. I wasn’t ready to feel better. I was much better off with Dylan. Sure, he called me on the carpet for all my stupid stuff and never let me get away with anything, but I knew he’d let me feel sorry for myself without insisting that we go to lunch or get cheesecake. That would come later. Right now, I needed to feel selfish and ornery and ready to crawl into a hole.

            When we got to the hospital, I asked at the nurses’ station, and they pointed me to Bruce’s room. I took a deep breath. I felt like I should have brought a card or something, but how lame would that be, to bring a football player a card? No way was I going to get him a balloon—I’d had enough to do with balloons to last me a whole entire lifetime.

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