Brave

Chapter 7: Owing My Life

Cam, just like his sister had done, hugs me while his tears flow freely. Morgan is a little more reserved with her emotions, but I can tell it pains her to see me in a wheelchair. Once Cam releases me, Morgan gives me an intense hug and kisses my cheek.

My voice gushes along with my own tears, "I'm so happy to see you!"

"You, too, girlie," Morgan says. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired right now. Just had my first physical therapy session and it wore me out after fifteen minutes."

"Well, you've been through a hell of a lot," she replies. "You'll get stronger, don't worry."

"Yeah, that's what my physical therapist just told me."

"Hey," Cam jumps in, abruptly changing the subject. "That guy on Four South finally got kicked out." He's referring to a guy in the dorm who played his music ridiculously loud at all hours of the night and had received many warnings. Apparently, the university finally took action.

"It's about time!" I cheer. "How's everyone else?"

Cam immediately launches into gossip mode and tells me something about everyone who lives on our floor. He's funny like that; he really loves keeping everyone up to speed on the latest news. But he finishes by saying, "Everyone asks about you. Now we can tell them you're almost as good as new!"

"Ha!" I scoff. "I'll never be as good as new. But I want to visit as soon as they let me out of this place. And please tell people they're welcome to come and see me here. I feel like I'm in prison, being so cut off from everyone."

"Yeah, I'm sure that sucks," Cam says. "I'll tell them."

"I won't be going back this school year," I sigh in a forlorn voice.

"That's understandable," Morgan tells me.

"I know," I mutter. "It's just not fair. I didn't sign up for this. All I want is to get back on track and graduate so I can move on with my life."

"You will," she assures me. "You're the most tenacious person I know!"

I smile at her compliment. I love it when people applaud my brains or my abilities, or even my effort. I couldn't care less if they tell me I'm pretty or if I'm wearing cute clothes. Well, that's not exactly true. Every girl likes to feel pretty once in a while.

I can't fight a huge yawn. "I'm sorry, but I think I need to catch a little sleep," I tell them as I fight back a second yawn on the tail end of the first one. After more kisses and hugs, they leave me to my nap.

I sleep most of the afternoon, awakened only by the arrival of my dinner. It looks a little more appetizing than whatever was served the day Ethan ate with me.

I'm just finishing when my mom and dad come back in. They set down a sack of cookies from my absolute favorite bakery, The Sugar Shack. I open the bag and find a half dozen of the best cookies on the planet, margarita cookies made with white chocolate and lime.

"Thank you," I gush. "I will most certainly put on about ten pounds right now because I'm going to eat them all!"

"Pace yourself," my father says with a laugh.

"How was your first day of therapy?" My mom asks. She had tried to get away from work, but she's saving up her family leave time for when I'm released from the hospital.

"Interesting," I say. "I didn't last very long, though. I got tired really fast."

"I'm sure that's normal," says my dad. "You'll build up your stamina quickly. I'm sure you're drained from the trauma as well as just lying around all day, letting people wait on you." He winks, letting me know he's teasing.