Cheshire Girl

Ch. 49

Hypothermia was no joke.  People died from that. 

                Fortunately, I didn't.

                That didn't mean I wasn't close, though.  The doctor—who's name was Jason Michaels—said it was a very very very close call, which didn't help when it came dealing with my mother. 

                And a broken ankle was no help either.  But thanks to Dr. Michaels, I was able to leave the Cheshire Hospital (the size of a clinic, only better equipped) in time for Spring Break.  I had a hardcore brace on my ankle so that I could technically walk, and crutches that I didn't want to use.  Once the ankle was mended, I'd go through a bit of physical therapy to walk on it again; it'd grow a little weak without any use.

                I received a lot of gifts from the parents of victims, and updates on the lawsuits.  With the evidence I'd emailed, it was a guarantee the principal was going to be locked away for a very long time.

                I didn't have to take part in the trials and such, which was good, because I never wanted to see him ever again.  Charlie and the other girls testified, and many of them sought counseling from Mr. C and a few friends of his he called over from the shelters and social work offices.

                Spring Break was mostly spent at my house, where I got a lot of visitors (grateful parents and annoying reporters), and was coddled almost to death by my mother and friends.  I refused to sit still, so I often left the house much to everyone's protest.  I spent a lot of time with Charlie and Ethan, who updated me on the long night I'd spent out in the woods.

                After I was informed, I asked that we not talk about that night for a long while, and they agreed.  We did normal stuff instead, like hang out, go to the movies outside of Cheshire, found random crap to do in Cheshire, drove around, hung out at each other's houses, get ready for prom—

                "Wait, prom?"

                "What?  You thought I forgot?"

                I threw a fry at Charlie, sinking back into my booth at the Cheshire Rocket, their fifties-style burger joint on the east side of Cheshire.  "I'm not going to prom."

                "If she's not going, I'm not going," said Ethan, earning him a fry to the face point blank.

                "You're both killing me.  Ethan, you don't have a choice.  And, Bella, you can't run from me just yet."

                "That's just cold," said Ethan.

                "Even if I wanted to go to prom—which I don't," I said, "I can't do much with the ankle, I don't have a dress, and I don't want to be the third wheel."

                Charlie smiled.  "I've got that covered."

                "No way do you have that all figured out," I said.  "I don't want to go.  It's as simple as that."

                "Too bad.  I don't want to go without you.  It'll be more fun now that everyone's cool with each other."

                Charlie did have a point.  What happened with Wyatt had really sobered everyone up.  The Wyatt-Walker rivalry officially stopped.  Thomas and Ethan were hanging out sometimes to work on Thomas' old truck.  Charlie and I hung out with Cynthia and Catherine at her mom's store; we were going to work there in the summer.