Wrecked Read Free Page B

pulls one of my curls.
    “See ya,” they say.
    “Bye.” Ellen flaps her hands at them and stumbles.
    “Come on,” I go, and I lead her from the pool table, up the stairs and out the front door, down the street, to the Honda.
    “Eech,” Ellen goes on Ocean Road.
    “You want me to pull over and walk you around a little?”
    “Eech,” she says again. Then she leans over and against her seat belt to crank up the radio. It’s that old U2 song. That ancient one: “Hoow loong to sing this soong? Hooow looong, hooooow loooong, hoow loong …” Ellen cranks it loud, and then she turns to me and she goes, “Do you think—”
    And then there’s this deafening smacking sound and the smell of new plastic, and Ellen in my lap, dripping with blood, and there’s pieces of something falling and all this dust everywhere and chips flying up from the floor, and Ellen bloody with her head pressed hard against my collarbone, and the sharp brush of her ponytail sticking my right eye. “Hooow looong, hoow loong, hoow loong … ,” and the sound of somebody screaming and screaming and screaming, and then somehow my door opens and I fall out with bloody Ellen half on top of me and her ponytail still sticking me in my eye, and I think, How could she be in my lap and how could we fall out with our seat belts on? And I keep hearing that screamingand screaming and screaming and screaming, and then I hear the screaming stop, and instantly I vomit all over myself and all over Ellen’s head. “To sing this sooong?” And a man’s voice says, “Three seven oh one,” and there’s a siren and somebody’s holding a blanket, and another man’s voice says, “Can you talk?” and I say, “My friend is bleeding,” and then Ellen slides away, and her ponytail slides away with her, and the music stops, and then there’s three policemen standing over me, and one of them wears Harry Potter glasses, and one of them is licking his lips, and the other one is saying something, only I can’t make out the words, and I go, “I can’t hear you,” and I see the glow-in-the-dark earth dangling from somewhere really high up, and I’m looking at it and telling the cop, “I was going to do it tomorrow. I swear. I was going to do it tomorrow,” and he stops talking to me, and he looks at the other two, and the Harry Potter one pulls off his glasses and turns away, and the one who was licking his lips turns with him, and I’m watching the earth swing gently back and forth, and that last cop leans down to me and tries again, and this time I hear him, and he’s saying in this really friendly voice, “Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay”

3
    I WANT TO VOMIT, AND MY RIGHT EYE THROBS. I GO TO TOUCH IT , when I hear someone say, “Don’t do that.” I open my eyes, except only the left one seems to be working. A nurse calls out to someone behind her, “She’s waking up.”
    I feel panic spreading through my blood, like ink in water.
    “Anna?” It’s my mother.
    “What are you wearing?” I go. Even with one eye I can see her long raincoat over pajamas.
    “Anna,” she says again. Blue-and-white-checked cotton. A raincoat over pajamas? Something is very wrong. I reach up again to my eye, but Mom grabs my hand.
    “Don’t,” she says. “You have a shield on it. Leave it.”
    “Is Dad mad?” I say, and she starts to cry. Seeing that is so strange it makes me remember everything. Scattering theleaves in one fell swoop, and Ellen bloody in my lap. And screaming, stopped.
    “Ellen.” The panic is seeping everywhere. “Is Ellen okay?”
    “She has a collapsed lung,” my mom tells me. “And some broken bones.” She blows her nose. The nurse fiddles with something above me, and I notice I’ve got a needle sticking in my arm. An IV.
    “A collapsed lung?” I go. “That’s bad, right?”
    My mother nods.
    “Is it days later?” I ask. I think it is. I think the accident must have happened at least a week ago.
    “No, Anna,” my mom says. She