A scream tears from my throat as that stupid music just keeps on playing, and I jump down from the platform, hurting my wrist in the process, my knees digging into the grass and smearing my gown with dirt. I race forward, snagging the fabric yet again on the edge of one of the chairs as I race for the steps and up them, my hand skimming across the bannister.
“Dad, no,” I sob as people rush around us, a doctor announcing herself before she pushes me aside. I’m weeping now and shaking, trying to get to Charlie but being pushed aside. The boys are there in an instant, along with Miranda and Andrew.
“I’ve already called an ambulance,” Zack says panting and holding me back, so the doctor and the health aide can work on Dad. He’s dying, isn’t it? I think as shock rolls over me in a wave, and this disturbing sort of numbness creeps over me.
If we had to wait for an ambulance from town, it’d be over an hour before they’d get here. Because of the size of the event, the academy was required to have a fire engine, ambulance, and two squad cars on site. One of them is already driving onto the field and Harper is being put into the back of it. In just a few minutes, the other emergency vehicles arrive and Charlie is loaded onto a stretcher and put in the back of the ambulance.
“I want to go with him!” I shout, but there are already too many medical professionals in there for me to fit.
“I’ll get the car,” Windsor says, putting his hand on my shoulder. He looks to the other boys, and I vaguely realize that Tristan is somehow missing. “Be right back.” He takes off as I start to collapse to the ground, caught by Creed on one side and Zayd on the other, my eyes tracking the movement of the ambulance as it rumbles off, siren blaring.
My graduation gown—and my heart—are in tatters.
I feel like I’m drowning in sorrow as the uniformed officer nearest me grabs my elbow. Zack gives him a dirty look, but I hardly notice. All I can think is no, no, no, not my daddy, please don’t take my daddy away.
“Miss?” The policeman shakes me, and I blink stupidly in his direction, the cold waves of shock chasing away what little adrenaline I got from my stunt with Harper. Where is Tristan? My addled brain wonders as I look around, briefly confused. Where is Windsor? Oh. Oh, yes. He … he went to get the car. My hands are shaking so badly, my teeth chattering. I reach up anyway and grab my cap, smearing blood everywhere. Somehow, I think I cut the back of my hand when I raced past Ms. Felton’s chair.
“She’s in shock.” One of my boyfriends is talking, but I’m not sure who. All I can think is: will Dad live? I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to that question, but I refuse to believe it. I can’t. I just can’t. Hands haul me to my feet, and I can hear people gossiping and chattering around me.
Fuck them though. Fuck all of them. My only concern now is how to get to the hospital as fast as I possibly can.
“Can we ride with her?” Creed asks. At least … I think it’s Creed. My vision has narrowed to a tunnel of focus, and my head is spinning.
“That’s her father, correct? In that case, we’re able to transport just her, I’m afraid, but we’ll take good care of her,” the officer explains, and then I’m being guided over to a police cruiser. Before I climb in, I shake my head to clear away some of the cobwebs and glance back at the boys, the ones who are still by my side. Tristan is gone. Windsor seems to be missing, too. I remind myself yet again that he just went to get the car. But where the fuck is Tristan?
I’m sorry, I’m sure I make no sense. I just … I’m in shock right now.
“Where are we going?” One of the officers opens the back door for me, and I pause.
“We can get you to the hospital with the sirens,” he tells me, and I nod because that makes perfect sense, even in the confused state of panic I’m in right now.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Zayd reassures me, his grip tight but firm. “Right behind you.”
My last great act of revenge is over, and I didn’t even get to enjoy it. That, and I had plans to talk with the guys tonight, let them know my final decision. Things were starting to come together, and now … I’ve never been so miserable. I’ve never hurt so much. How could this happen to Charlie? It’s so much worse than what I suffered during first year. So, so, so much worse.
