16 Things I Thought were True Part 2

D id you hear what I said?" Adam asks. His eyebrows are arched way up. "Your break is over. Can you please turn off your phone and go back to the gift shop?"

"I have to go," I say. My heart thumps hard. My mom's in the hospital?

I spin around and run for the door, clicking Jake's contact number.

"Did you talk to him?" Amy whisper- yells as I pa.s.s her outside the snack shop.

"Later," I holler and keep going, pressing my phone to my ear.

I race back to the gift shop and grab my backpack from the coun- ter. "Family emergency," I tell Theresa, who's been watching the shop during my break. "I have to go."

I throw my backpack over my arm and keep running.

Adam is coming toward me. "I can fire you if you take off in the middle of your s.h.i.+ft," he says.

"Congratulations," I call out and dart around families grouped together in cl.u.s.ters. A little girl is crying, and I pat her head as I run by and mumble sympathetic noises but don't stop. I jump out of the way to avoid an escaped toddler running for his life and b.u.mp into the back of a dad holding a screaming girl by her armpits. I press Jake's contact number again. It goes straight to voice mail. Great.

sixteenthings.indd 13 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

J a n e t G u r t l e r As I'm jogging through the parking lot, Adam yells my name, but I keep moving. The only thing on my mind is getting to the car.

I try my other brother's phone, but Josh doesn't pick up either.

Something is very wrong.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Adam yells, and I turn to see he's chased me all this way, even though I made it pretty clear I don't care if he fires me. His legs are frigging long, and clearly I'm no athlete. I reach Josh's car and jumble around in my backpack for the keys.

"Is this is about Amy? You can't just leave, you know."

My chest is tight, my breathing fast. "This has nothing to do with Amy." I'm about to tell him my mom is in the hospital when he interrupts.

"This is yours?" Adam stares at the restored '70s muscle car.

Cutla.s.s 442. A cla.s.sic. I only know this because Josh drilled it into my head.

I unlock the door, ignoring Adam as I slide into the front seat.

Adam moves quickly, standing in between the door and the car, so I can't close it. "Why're you taking off?" he demands.

"It's my mom," I say, and the tears I've been holding in pop out of my eye corners. "She's in the hospital okay? I have to go.

Like NOW."

"Oh." He uncrosses his arms. "Which hospital?" he asks without stepping away.

"Shoot." I realize I don't even know. "I'm an idiot," I moan and grab my phone to madly text Josh and Jake at the same time. I stare down at the phone, willing one of them to answer right away. "My stupid brothers aren't answering my texts."

14.

sixteenthings.indd 14 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e "If I drive, you can call hospitals and find her faster. It'll save time."

He pulls out his phone and types a quick message. "Done. Theresa will cover me and the gift shop. I told her you have an emergency."

I want to refuse, but frankly I need the help. I swallow, tempted to tell him no, but this is too serious to worry about my silly pride.

"Fine," I say, even though he's already pulling me out and push- ing me around the front of the car to the pa.s.senger door. He opens it and shoves me inside.

"Drive carefully," I tell him as I do up my seat belt. "This is my brother's car and he's very protective of it- and very muscular."

Adam's lip turns up for half a second as he gets behind the wheel and pushes the seat back to accommodate his long legs. Fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror give off a slight scent of pine. I've never asked Josh whether they're ironic, but I hope so.

"Cool car. I promise to be careful. I'm not big on being beat up."

Adam taps the fuzzy dice so they swing back and forth, and then pulls on the seat belt. "Why don't you start with the University of Was.h.i.+ngton Medical Center? Call the emergency line and find out if she's been admitted there."

He sprays gravel as he backs out of the parking lot. I call 411.

They connect me to the hospital, but we're on the highway by the time I press enough b.u.t.tons to reach a real person on the phone.

A few minutes later, I find out my mom isn't there and hang up.

"Try the Virginia Mason," Adam says as he drives past an old farm with cows grazing on gra.s.s.

I wonder how he even knows this stuff but don't have time to ask. When I reach a person at the Virginia, I find out she's not

15.

sixteenthings.indd 15 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

J a n e t G u r t l e r there either. As soon as I hang up, Adam gives me the name of another hospital.

"The Marcede Grace Hospital. It's small, but closest to Tadita."

I get the number as we're reaching the outskirts of the city.

Stretches of gra.s.s and farmland change to pavement and will lead to large buildings.

When I get the hospital on the line, they confirm my mom's admission but refuse to tell me what's wrong with her over the phone. I hang up frustrated and close to tears. I have no idea why Mom is in the hospital or how serious her condition is.

Adam reaches over and pats my leg and then presses his foot to the gas pedal and flies around the turnoff from the freeway. "Hang on," he says. "Ten minutes tops."

I picture my mom when I left for work. She had a package of cigarettes tucked in her bra, like she thought she was a glamorous movie star in an old movie. I squeeze both hands tighter around my phone.

"Don't worry," Adam says. "It's probably not as bad as you're imagining."

My ears heat up and I look out the window. There's a sign on the side of the road with a blue H and an arrow. "I hope not," I say, and my voice sounds funny.

"We're almost there," he says, and he reaches over to pat my knee.

I stare at his profile as he checks the rearview mirror. A motorcy- cle roars up from behind us, pa.s.sing too fast and too close. "Idiot,"

he mumbles.

After a moment of silence, he asks, "Did your parents split up?"

16.

sixteenthings.indd 16 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e He flicks on the turn signal and steers onto another off ramp, and I see the long brown building. It conjures up images of sick people in hospital gowns and doctors running to surgery.

The question about my parents hangs in the air, but I can't find words to answer.

"I a.s.sumed because you haven't said a word about your dad. Or is he dead?" His eyes open wider, and he sneaks a look at me. "G.o.d.

Sorry. Stupid. I totally suck at bedside manners."

I blink at his profile. "Bedside manners?"

"Yeah. Um. I'm going to be a doctor someday." His chin lifts slightly, and he grips the steering wheel tighter but keeps his eyes on the road. "I've been applying to schools. Premed."

"It's summer," I remind him and turn my attention to the hospi- tal as we get closer. My knee is bouncing up and down.

"It's only summer for a little while," Adam is saying. "Then senior year." He sighs. "A big year."

"Yeah," I agree and then, because he's being nice, add, "I have no idea if my dad is dead."

Usually I go for months without discussing my dad, but today he keeps coming up. "I think he was basically a sperm donor. I mean, my mom never went to a sperm bank, and as far as I know, I was conceived the old- fas.h.i.+oned way, but I never met him or anything.

He took off before I was born. No interest in me."

I sneak a look, and there's pity in his eyes and I kind of hate it.

"It doesn't matter," I say louder than necessary, as if adding volume will make the statement more true.

Adam speeds up to a set of lights, but they turn yellow and he

17.

sixteenthings.indd 17 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

J a n e t G u r t l e r slams his foot on the brake. The hospital is only a few blocks away now. "Yeah. It does," he says softly. "It matters. That sucks." I keep my eyes on the hospital, and we sit at the red light, staring ahead, but an invisible tentacle stretches over and wraps around my heart, bonding me to him just a little. "No one deserves to feel aban- doned or unloved." The words reach inside and touch me, and he turns for a second to look at me, and something s.h.i.+fts between us.

"I'm sure your mom is going to be all right," he says quietly.

I nod and then stare out the window, afraid to admit to myself how much this connection means to me. He's like a full gla.s.s of cold water after a hot, muggy walk. I didn't know boys could be so nice.

"Do you have brothers and sisters?" he asks.

"Twin brothers. Twenty- one. They live at home. My mom still does their laundry and buys their underwear." I force myself to sound lively.

"Do you get along with them?"

I shrug and reach for my backpack. "Better now than when I was little. You're driving Josh's car, remember?"

"Yeah," he says.

"What about you?" I ask and search inside my backpack until I find my ChapStick and pull it out.

"One brother. Younger. He's cool. But if it's any consolation, my dad is kind of a jerk. For real. Sometimes I've wished my parents would split up. It would be easier for me in a lot of ways." He clears his throat as if he's embarra.s.sed. The confession touches me.

I glance over and his cheeks are red, and he keeps his attention on the lights.

18.

sixteenthings.indd 18 9/9/13 2:21 PM.