Page 53 of See You in Your Dreams

“Poor Greta,” Alexis says, her voice quavering. “I hope she’s all right. I’ll have to check with my church and see if there’s anything we can do for her or her family.”

“Why’s it always gotta be the nice ones who get screwed over?” Cat sighs, playing listlessly with her food. “I can think of a few dozen other students who deserve it way more.”

“It’s not aboutdeservingit,” Alexis retorts. “We just have to trust that it’s all part of His plan.”

Cat snorts. “Right. Because some deity up there gives a shit what happens to any of us. Greta hit the anti-jackpot—nothing more, nothing less.”

Alexis frowns, appearing more heated than I’ve seen her in a long time. “You might not believe in a divine plan, butIdo, no matter how unknowable it is.”

Turning away from my bickering friends, I focus back on Ash and find him looking utterly miserable. I squeeze his hand. “Hey, it’s okay. Principal Clayton said she’s still alive. I’m sure the doctors are doing everything they can to make sure she stays that way.”

Ash manages a weak nod and swallows, his voice shaky when he speaks. “All she ever did was try to be nice to me. And in return, I treated her like shit. I never even thought to apologize.”

I scoot closer to Ash and drape an arm around his lower back. “It’s not too late. You can tell her yourself as soon as she’s better.”

Ash doesn’t reply, though I feel him lean against me.

The rest of the day passes in a haze. Everyone from the other students to the teachers seems unusually somber, and I spotmore than a few people with streaked cheeks and red eyes in the halls. It’s as if the principal’s announcement left the entire school on mute, Greta’s influence plain to see. Even the normally boisterous corridors following the final bell are near silent.

I feel as weighted down as everyone else as I shuffle outside with the rest of the crowd. I think back to Greta’s phone call summoning me to fetch Ash from Emily’s party. In a very real sense, she’d been the one to bring us together. Without her looking out for Ash, we’d probably still be avoiding each other.

“Want to head back to my place for a bit?” Ash asks once we’ve met up and started down the sidewalk. “I could watch you play thatFinal Fantasygame some more.”

“Not sure I’m in the mood.” I kick at a pile of loose stones on the sidewalk, sending them scattering. “Though, I suppose I wouldn’t say no to some snuggles from you and Onyx.”

Ash links his fingers with mine, giving me a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “That could probably be arranged.”

We walk without speaking, just his closeness enough to ease some of the ache in my chest. Every time I think of poor Greta strapped to a sterile hospital bed, a pang ripples through me. I usually avoid taking sides among my friends, but this time, I’ve gotta agree with Cat—if thereisany sort of plan to this, then it’s a fucking stupid one.

We’re about halfway to Ash’s aunt when a sudden thought occurs to me, and I skid to a halt. Ash looks over, frowning. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because,” I say, my mind racing, “I think I have a better idea for how we can spend our afternoon…”

The waiting room at Banton Memorial Hospital is deceptively calm when we arrive. Given my own tumultuous emotions, itfeels like there should be doctors and nurses running around frantically barking orders while lines of maimed patients moan and wait desperately for their turn.

Instead, Ash and I are the only ones there.

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” Ash mutters beside me. He has the look of someone who’s about to be sick, his pained face contorted in a half-grimace.

“We’ll be quick,” I reply, swallowing down my own nerves. “Greta would do it for either of us.”

Ash opens his mouth to retort, then sighs and closes it. Shoving his hands in his tight jean pockets, he strides quickly toward the reception desk. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

The receptionist’s directions to the Intensive Care Unit are easy enough to follow. However, visiting Greta turns out to be more difficult than I’d hoped.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse stationed at the front informs us, his voice polite yet firm. “Only immediate family members are allowed in the ICU. It’s important for the well-being of our patients that they have the peace and quiet they require to successfully recuperate.”

“We won’t be long,” Ash argues. “We just wanted to stop by and see how our friend is doing—you know, offer our support.”

“And I’m sure your friend will appreciate the gesture, but I can’t let you go back.” An older man and woman walk past us into the hall as the nurse glances at a nearby clock. “I have to continue my rotation. If you like, I can let your friend know you stopped by.”

Ash narrows his eyes at the dismissal, and I hastily step in. “That’d be great, thanks!”

“Sure. What’s the patient’s name?”

“Greta.” I sneak a glance at Ash to make sure he’s not about to keep arguing. “Greta Mathers.”

With a final nod, the nurse hurries off, leaving Ash and me standing there.