Page 47 of Brain Damage

“Hey, Helmet Girl!”

The voice is coming from my right side. I ignore it, focusing instead on eating my dinner. I’m allowed to eat all solid foods now. Amy says that if I eat enough, they will remove the tube from my belly. I want that so badly. So I need to eat.

“Helmet Girl!”

I feel a ping against my helmet, and a pea drops down onto my dinner tray. I look up and I’m not surprised to see Jamie sitting to my right. He’s got another pea in his hand and looks like he’s about to hurl it at me. They really need to stop giving him peas.

I don’t know if it’s a new medication or what, but he seems a lot perkier lately. He even did better in Walking Group this morning. He actually managed to walk with a walker, not holding onto the ballet bars, with two people supporting him. That’s progress for him. I’d be thrilled if I could do that.

I put down my fork to glare at him. “Don’t call me Helmet Girl. I don’t like it.”

I expect him to say something obnoxious, but instead he frowns. “I’m sorry,” he says. He hesitates. “Your name is Charly, right?”

“Right.”

“My name is Jamie,” he says.

I don’t know why he thinks I don’t know his name. I’ve seen him practically every day for the last two weeks or so. But strangely, there’s something really different about Jamie today. He’s calmer, less crazy—like his brain has healed itself overnight. Can that happen? I pick up my fork again and take a bite of mashed potatoes. “I know.”

“Oh.” He smiles sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure if… well, anyway, I won’t call you Helmet Girl again. Sorry about that.”

“Thank you.”

He looks down at his own food. He has cut-up pieces of meat and a lot of peas, none of which he’s made much progress with eating. Seriously, what is up with all the peas they keep giving him?

“You better eat,” I warn him. “Otherwise, you’ll never get the tube out of your belly.”

He makes a confused face and I almost laugh. He really is very cute in a boy-next-door sort of way. “The what?”

“The tube in your belly,” I say again. “You have to eat at least half your meals before they’ll take it out.”

Jamie pushes his tray away from his body. Like me, he’s got an alarmed seat belt on his lap, to alert nurses if he attempts to get up. He doesn’t touch the belt though. Instead, he pulls up the hem of his worn T-shirt to reveal the thin layer of dark hair on his lean belly. He stares down at his abdomen. “I don’t think I have a tube,” he says.

He doesn’t. I guess he wasn’t hurt as badly as I was.

Jamie releases his T-shirt then gingerly touches the scar on his scalp. “I don’t have a helmet either,” he says.

“Lucky you.”

I probably sound bitter. Oh well.

“No way,” he says. “The helmet is cool. It’s better than walking around with your head half shaved and a big red scar.”

“It’s really uncomfortable though,” I explain. “It’s hot, and the strap hurts my chin. Sometimes it falls over my eyes so I can’t see. And it makes my head feel really itchy and they won’t let me scratch.”

He squints at me. “Why do you need the helmet, anyway?”

“Because I got shot in the head,” I tell him. “And my skull was all cracked and broken, so they took it off. So I have to wear the helmet to protect my brain, because I don’t have a skull there anymore.”

Jamie’s brown eyes widen. “You don’t have a skull at all?”

“Nope,” I say.

Although I think actually that might be wrong. Maybe they only removed half. I think I might have some skull left. But the part that I can feel is definitely completely gone.

Jamie stares at me for another minute before he says, “Can I see?”

I glance around the hallway. There are a couple of other patients around, but I don’t see any nurses at the moment. They are probably all in patients’ rooms, giving medications or changing bedpans. Of course, it’s entirely possible they are right next to me and simply standing to my left.