Jumping was not a good choice.
Look, I didn’t intend to jump. I was at a lost. I only wanted to have a chico for myself, and then I missed the landing. Jeez. I wasn’t trying to kill myself because my ex-boyfriend and soon-to-be boyfriend was fighting not too far away from me. I wasn’t insane!
So there, everybody assumed I jumped off someone’s bedroom window, which was three floors above the ground—someone even told me it was cool.
Not.
The police was investigating the Shaias. The police? I knew. It was my fault. But not entirely since I wasn’t the reason behind the kegs and beers and the cheese crackers during an annual charity event, supposedly for adults. It wasn’t to anyone’s surprise that the entire Luna East student body was also attending, enjoying the free beers, because I realized it has become a tradition, but the police wouldn’t hear of it. Guess Chelsea was also in for an interrogation. Some interrogation.
I laid on a hospital bed with a fractured leg, a broken rib, a scar—shaped like Harry Potter’s, whose scar was the only thing I knew about, incidentally, because some nerd who visited me told me so—on my forehead and scratches all over my body due to the supposedly nonexistent branches of a chico tree that made my journey down harder than I thought, prolonging the inevitable, but somehow slowed down my fall.
The nerd was King, by the way. And he had brought me a basket of fruits, so I had forgiven him, partially, for being such an annoying nerd. “Wow! That’s like the scar Harry Potter got on his forehead! You got some cool scar in there, sis!” he had exclaimed.
I had to tell him to shut up, because he had annoyed me that way, in my really strange voice, which had sounded hoarse like I was just making guttural noises instead of trying to make a nice and normal conversation with my twelve-year-old brother. Apparently, nothing between us had ever been normal, so it had been okay, really.
And Molly, she called me five times already since the night of the party when I had skyrocketed to earth with a really loud bang, but she wasn’t able to visit me in person. She told me she was grounded, because of what happened. I felt really sorry for her. But at least she and Martin were still okay.
My doctor had said I could go home in less than a week if I could move my left leg. Though I had been in the hospital for five days already and my left leg hadn’t moved an inch. Maybe it was because every time I had tried to move it, it would hurt so much that I had to stop trying. My nurse had helped me out, but it didn’t change that my whole body hurt.
Also, the scratches on my body started to itch uncontrollably. My nurse had told me once that it was good. That they itched, I mean. Because it indicated that they were healing. I didn’t know how it was supposed to be working that way, but I hated that they itched.
Then, I had to think of my broken ribs, and my heart—now that, I didn’t know how it would heal, it hurt more than anything else—which had received the most fatal of blows. The problem was, my doctor and nurse had been focusing on the wrong parts of my body. They didn’t know a thing about my broken heart.
What my doctor and nurse knew were plain sheets of bulls—excuse the expression—pampering me with hospital food, applying cream on several parts of my body, moving my leg from left to right and asking me questions like how are you doing today, while all the time they had my heart exposed to more possibilities of breakage.
When I thought I already had Annie—my 26-year-old nurse—on my side, she would drift off like she wasn’t listening at all to all my complaints and everyday whining. Twice I told her about the Noah and Henry incident. The first time, she was smiling all the way down from start to finish. And the second time, she gave me an advice to wait, because sooner everything would be back to normal. I thought she already knew what my real problem was, but the next days, instead of joining me in my mourning she went back to being the same old Annie who just smiled and checked on my leg. There wasn’t a word about Noah and waiting and all.
From then on, I learned to just smile back or pretend I was sleeping throughout the whole ordeal. Because I wouldn’t have to convince Annie or Dr. Carlos that the real source of my longer capacity to heal was my broken heart.
Everyday my mom or my dad or King would visit. Sometimes, my mom would sleep with me. Sometimes, she brought King with her to cheer me up. Yes, after two weeks in the hospital, I realized having King in my company was a real blessing. I didn’t know how it happened, but I started to enjoy his nonstop chatter. He still annoyed me in some ways, but he has such a cute face that I wouldn’t mind looking at it, thinking how stupid I was not to appreciate such charm from the beginning. I knew he would grow up to be a charmer. He might not grow up to be a muscled-type guy, but surely a lot of girls would still adore him.
I missed Christmas entirely. I mean, Christmas at home at least. I did celebrate Christmas in the hospital. My mom, dad, King and the nurses on duty celebrated the Christmas Eve with me. They all gathered around me like I was some paralytic patient who couldn’t move without somebody’s help, which was true, but not entirely true. I wasn’t paralytic. It was just hard for me to move my legs. I received a snow globe from King and I promised I would give him his gift as soon as I was out of the hospital. I wrote a mental note and promised myself I would buy something really cool for my brother. My mom gave me a scrapbook with pictures of us as one happy family, which made me cry. And my dad, as his usual, gave me a check that he said I could spend with anything I want. That was my dad.
But what really made my Christmas weren’t the gifts I received. What made me completely happy was seeing my family, one again, happy and all smiles like we were one big happy family. It was my only wish for Christmas, and it came true. Though, of course, my parents assured me that everything was finally fine with them and my mom finally let my dad pay for King’s education, I knew it would take time to heal all wounds. They weren’t about to live together, again. But I couldn’t hope for more. At least it was a start. What was important was we were all happy, separated or not. And as a gift to my mom, I promised to divide my week between her and my dad, which made her cry harder than I was already crying.
Every morning, I tried to walk with Annie. She would teach me to stretch my legs and do all sorts of exercises with my arms and body. Seriously, I felt like a child learning her first walk.
Today, the exercise had drained my energy that I quickly fell asleep the instant my body hit the bed. Not a minute passed, I was dreaming. It was always the same for me. The dream never wavered. It was the night when Henry was kissing me, and then Noah appeared out of nowhere to punch the heck out of Henry. I screamed and ended up crying every time I woke up.
And now I was screaming and crying, again, at the same time. The door creaked and I expected it to be my nurse. She always came whenever I woke up screaming. But when the door opened, it revealed not my nurse but Noah’s familiar face. Oh, my God. My heart skipped a beat.
Noah stood tall in front of me, above me actually, because I was lying on a bed and his face loomed from above, like he was part of the ceiling. He was wearing the Luna East uniform, without the vest. He looked even more handsome, and I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, very much aware that I was crying, and he heard me screaming.
“Noah,” I said awkwardly—not really sure if he could hear me.
But I saw him smiled. I had always liked his smile. “Queen,” he said, sending weird vibrations to my body.
I realized I missed his voice, too. I missed Noah, all of him. Jeez. I wiped my face with the back of my hands—not caring if it looked totally unlady-like. Then, I sat upright, bringing a wild sensation to my leg. Ouch. “What are you doing here?” I asked, or croaked, or whatever. Noah was in my hospital room, for real.
“Visiting you?” he said in a playful tone.
“You’re supposed to be in school,” I accused, changing track.
He looked suddenly guilty. “I know, and you are, too.”
I had to laugh, or croak, or whatever. “Thanks to my jumping skill I haven’t seen Ms. Minchin for two weeks now.”
“Queen, I’m serious.” I didn’t know why the way he said my name always sounded different.
After he spoke, the room fell silent. It always had been silent, except for my screams, but this time it was different. It was as if a really strong energy was coursing through the silence, like any movement might cause a spark. I looked at Noah and I didn’t know what to say. He had such beautiful eyes, even more beautiful than mine.
“Look, I came here to say sorry,” he said, breaking the silence.
There was a moment of unease.
“I thought you’re visiting me,” I said, turning my eyes away from him and to the wall opposite my bed. There was a picture of an angel on it.
I heard him take a deep breath. “I am and I’m saying sorry, too.”
I also breathed deeply. I had to. “For what?”
From the corner of my eye I saw him looked down, probably at his feet as he decided what to say to me. “For everything.” His voice was so soft I could barely hear him.
I shook my head, looking back at him. “I didn’t die, you know.”
“Yes, but you could have.” There was a slight guilty tone in his voice. Oh, my. I couldn’t take this. I wasn’t used to this Noah. I wanted the carefree Noah, not the guilty Noah.
“I’m fine,” I assured him.
He shook his head, not being able to look at me.
A couple of minutes passed, and I just stared at him. I was the first one to crack.
“I always had nightmares,” I said. I closed my eyes for a moment and realized there were tears in my eyes, again. This time I knew I was crying because I was so happy to see Noah in flesh, not just in my nightmares.
When I opened them, I saw Noah’s face forcing a smile. He was looking at me, again.
“Do you always look that nice?” I asked out of the blue.
He looked shocked as if he thought it was going to be the last thing he would hear from me. I had to stifle a laugh.
“Ah—I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying. Are you sure nothing hurts? I can call your nurse.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m fine. Just stay here.”
The room was, once again, silent. I could literally hear the banging of my heart—going swift and shrill—against my ribcage. The reason was Noah, who suddenly sat beside me on the bed, facing me and looking straight into my eyes, and sending me weird vibrations, again. He gave me a nod and I knew he was telling me that it was all right.
“I was stupid,” I said.
“No,” Noah said, holding my hand, surprising me. “You’re not stupid. You’re just—”
“Crazy,” I supplied with a laugh.
Noah shook his head, again. “Maybe. But listen, it is what I love best about you. You don’t care what others would think. You’d do things your way. And it’s not stupidity. It’s bravery.”
I swallowed. Love bestabout me? What else he loved about me? It felt like I was going to combust. And he said I was brave! Oh. My. God. Noah was not his usual self. He seemed possessed. I was so sure of it.
“I’m not brave,” I said slowly, weighing his mood. I didn’t want him to stop, but I didn’t want him to think I was too dumb to speak, either.
“You are. Even braver than all the girls I know.”
I swallowed once more. My mouth was dry. I needed a glass of cold water.
“I’m sorry it has to be like this,” he continued, not wandering his eyes away from me. “Hen—” he hesitated.
“I understand. Go on,” I said, finding my voice again. I knew what he was about to say. I was bracing myself for it since I saw him appeared in my room.
“Henry,” he finally managed to complete. “He told me everything. He said he was sorry. He forced you.”
Forced? Far from it. I wanted to look away, but I didn’t want to miss Noah’s eyes on me. I wanted him to look at me. It was all I ever wanted from him, even though it hurt.
“What else did he say?” I asked in a small unfamiliar voice.
He looked contrite. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters now is us—the present.”
The look in my face must have been one of surprise, because he let go of my hand. Oh no. No. It wasn’t what I meant. Jeez. How could I explain it to him? “I’d love that,” I just said, not knowing if he would understand.
Noah’s eyes lit up with a boyish grin that played on his lips. “Really?”
I gave him a nod, and then smiled. I didn’t know where I was getting the energy to do so. I felt beat. All I wanted was for Noah to hold my hands, again.
And he did, thank God.
“So, tell me. How did you know I was at that room with—ah—you know.” I felt embarrassed, remembering the nightmare that had been haunting me.
“I wasn’t really attending the party, but Chelsea called me and told me you were coming. As soon as I arrived, I went looking for you. I thought I heard noises upstairs so I followed the sound. I wasn’t wrong.” I knew he was remembering the night, too.
But, jeez. Chelsea? Calling Noah? To tell him I was going to the party? Why? Then a thought suddenly occurred to me. Was Chelsea making it up to me, because of what he did to Henry and me? Or did she really liked Henry that she thought she would rather help Noah and me so Henry would stop pestering me? Gosh. I was so lost. Screw it. What was important was Noah and I—the us, the now, the present. Noah was right.
“I see,” was all I managed to say.
Noah looked hopeful, and there was a glimmer in his eyes. Oh. He looked really handsome. “Can we start, again, then?” he asked, surprising me the most.
“You’re not angry at me?”
“Angry at you?”
“Yes. You’ve seen what happened. Hen—you know. We kissed and—”
“I told you already. It doesn’t matter now. I understand. Let’s just try to forget it. Shall we?”
I had the chance to roll my eyes before Noah suddenly start grinning. I beamed, and I didn’t need a doctor to tell me that my heart was already mended.
The end.