Wake Up Missing Read Free Page A

pool . . . where you’re not allowed to dive, splash, or otherwise overexert yourself,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes.
    Quentin grinned. “She’s still mad they made her get off Trent’s shoulders in the shallow end last week.”
    â€œDo you like to swim?” Sarah asked. “Or play Frisbee or shoot baskets?”
    â€œUmm . . .” I couldn’t imagine doing any of those things the way my head was throbbing. But she looked so excited. “Maybe when I feel better.”
    Mom gave me a tentative smile. I knew what she was thinking.
It’s nice here. They have a pool . . . and birds. Remind me that this is the right thing, that you’ll be happy and safe, so I can leave you without falling apart.
    I smiled back at her and reminded myself this was where Ineeded to be to get better. I liked the birds. The kids were friendly, and Dr. Ames seemed nice, too. Like he cared about us, like he wanted to make sure we felt safe and happy. Like we were important to him.
    I guess we were, in a way. Just not the way we thought.

Chapter 3
    â€œWow,” Mom said as we walked up the sidewalk to the swimming-pool area. “Are you sure you don’t need parents to stay and chaperone? Or do dishes or anything? I could get used to this.”
    It was beautiful—a sparkling Olympic-size swimming pool with cushioned deck chairs and tables with shade umbrellas mixed in. There was a paved area with a basketball hoop and a net for badminton or volleyball over on the lawn.
    â€œEven if you’re not up for much physical activity yet, you can bring your lunch out,” Dr. Ames said. He frowned and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Excuse me one moment.”
    â€œWatch out for seagulls, though,” Sarah said, kicking off one of her flip-flops and skimming her toes along the water. “One swiped half my turkey wrap yesterday.”
    But there were no seagulls around then. And there were no other people. “Where is everybody?” I asked.
    â€œEverybody like who?” Sarah kicked some water at Quentin.“We’re here. You’re here. Kaylee never does anything fun, so I bet she’s in her room.”
    â€œProbably sleeping. Dr. Ames told us her injury was more severe, so we never see her,” Quentin explained. “She just goes to treatment and sleeps a lot. And Trent—”
    â€œâ€”is a big jerk,” Sarah interrupted. “He was supposed to shoot hoops with me after dinner last night but he never came outside. I haven’t seen him today, either.” She turned to Dr. Ames, who was tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Hey, Trent didn’t leave or something, did he?”
    Dr. Ames chuckled. “Relax, Sarah. Trent’s doing great, but I’m sure he would
never
go home without saying good-bye to his basketball buddy.” He turned to Mom and me. “Trent is in the final stages of Phase Three, so he’s spending more time in treatment these days. But Cat will meet him soon, I’m sure.”
    â€œNow Phase Three is . . . the gene therapy?” Mom asked, even though she’d read everything on the I-CAN website a zillion times.
    â€œExactly,” Dr. Ames answered her, and turned to me and Ben. “Do you guys understand how that works?”
    â€œKind of,” I said.
    Ben shrugged like he didn’t care how it worked, but Dr. Ames included him in the conversation.
    â€œWell, when you guys got your concussions, it damaged your brain tissue. That’s why your heads hurt so often, why your vision gets blurry, and you can’t always seem to think and remember stuff the way you used to. In order to fix that for youpermanently, we need to replace the damaged tissue with healthy brain cells.”
    â€œYou happen to have some healthy ones sitting around?” Ben sounded skeptical.
    His aunt nudged him. “Don’t be rude,” she whispered, but Dr. Ames