Page 9 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
She’s one of the nurses I worked with over the summer. One of the more eclectic of the group, so she sucked me in immediately. Her blue-streaked hair is wrapped into a tight bun, and cute bat-shaped earrings frame a big smile and bright brown eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I…uh…”Calm down, Kenzie. She’s not suspicious, she’s just asking.What do I say though? I’m not supposed to be back here…but wait. She doesn’t know that, and Iamback here. “I’m trying to find my friend. I forgot the room number. Hayden…Hayden Marcus.”
“Oh.” She shrugs and starts typing at her computer. “Little young to be forgetting stuff, but we’ll figure it out. How you been though?”
“Good.” I nod too quickly. It’s more like a spasm than a nod. “Just working and school.”
“You a senior?” she asks, eyes flicking between me and the computer screen.
“I wish.” I grin. “I’m a junior.”
“Don’t know why I keep thinking you’re a senior,” Amanda grunts. “Found them. He’s in room 124.”
She’s reading something, so I spout a quick thanks and take off. I’m not letting any second thoughts keep me from getting to Hayden. A quick scan of the doors to my right tells me to keep going down the hall. I’m close. Only a few more rooms, but with each one I pass, the pressure in my chest builds. Is he okay? Hewasn’t conscious when they wheeled him away from me, and the bandage on his head was soaked in red. Please be okay!
Finally I find 124 stamped next to a big wooden door. I stop in front of it and pause, staring at the number like a stone statue. Is this a mistake? I shouldn’t be here…right? A piece of me wants to turn and run. But he’s in there, and it’s because of me. I didn’t warn him about the floor when he was leaving, and he obviously didn’t remember it was wet. I should have said something. I fill my lungs with air and let it slowly slip out between my lips just before I turn the doorknob and push it open.
The room is brightly lit. Sterile and white. Machines beep and whir. I think I hear a pump. Then there he is. Hayden. His eyes are closed, and he’s laid out on his back on an inclined hospital bed under white and blue sheets that look much too cold. A bandage is wrapped around his forehead, and his left eye is swollen and purple.
My mouth gapes. No. Oh my gods, I’m so sorry, Hayden!
Instinct says to turn and run, to get this image of him out of my head, but I can’t. I won’t leave him like this. My eyes jump between his groggy swollen face, the leads attached to his forehead leading into some machine next to the bed, and the door as it closes behind me. I grip my necklace again.Calm down. Take it slow. Breathe. Be intentional.
I squeeze my necklace harder and walk to the bedside. He’s so still and peaceful, and if it weren’t for the bloated eye and bandages, I’d think he was just having a good nap. I want to say something, but what? Instead, I grip the metal railing on the bed. Should I touch his hand to let him know I’m here? No! Stop. That’s just my head. It’s not appropriate. He probably needs to sleep.Just say something, but don’t wake him.
“Hey there, Hayden,” I mumble, struggling to make eye contact even with his eyes closed. I focus on the clear tube hanging from one of the machines and follow it down to his arm. “It’s Kenzie. Well, you probably know me as Mackenzie. You know, from the bakery…uh, Woodsy Café & Cakes. I’m the short one who usually makes your drinks.”
What else can I say? How do I make sure he knows who I am? What am I thinking? He’s asleep. He can’t hear a word I’m saying. I roll my eyes at myself and go on anyway. I need to say something.
“U-uh, I’m the one with, uh, two different e-eye colors, green and blue. You might not have noticed that though,” I say. Most people do, but I probably shouldn’t assume. I think it freaks some people out. I’ll catch their pupils darting from right to left, not sure which color to focus on. Do I focus on the bluish-gray one on the right or the muted sage green one on the left? “Most people call me Kenzie. Oh, I already said that. Sorry.”
It’s odd talking to someone who doesn’t seem to be listening. Even if that someone is absolutely amazing and has the kindest smile, except he’s not really smiling right now either.
“Sorry about what happened. I should have warned you. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry. And I swear Landon didn’t mean for you to slip,” I tell him, leaning in closer to whisper. “Please don’t sue him. He’s horrified he’s going to jail.”
The thought makes me giggle, and I manage to look at Hayden’s stoic face. He’s so calm, and so am I now, as long as I don’t focus on the purple bruise and bandages.
“You’re still beautiful, even like this, you know?” I blush again. I can’t believe I just said that to his literal face. “We’ve notreallytalked before, so I don’t know what to say, but—”
“My baby.” A woman’s coarse voice shoots into the room followed by a stampede of feet.
“Hayden.” An old gruff voice.
“Calm down, he’s sleeping,” an older lady says more quietly.
“He’s in a coma, of course he’s asleep,” a small sarcastic voice replies.
A what? A coma?
I turn in time to see who’s talking. She’s young, super pale, a blonde preteen at best. She darts for the bedside, and five more people pile into the room, focused on Hayden. An older gentleman who reminds me of the old actor in that Pedro Pascal comedy where they’re trying to stop a drug lord while attempting to make a movie. A middle-aged woman with long nearly black hair, probably his mother, races to Hayden’s bedside and clamps her fingers around the bedrail.
I shuffle back and cower in the corner. I don’t know these people and they definitely don’t know me. Did they even see me? And did she really say a coma? Is Hayden in a coma?! It can’t be.
I contemplate running. They haven’t seen me yet, and Mom’s waiting for me at home for Thanksgiving dinner. She’s probably blowing up my phone by now. I’m going to be in so much trouble. I eke a foot across the tan floor, trying not to make a noise. Only a few steps and I’ll be out of trouble. One more step, another.
“Ahem.”
