MRS. DONALDSON HAS US COMPETING in Radical Races on Tuesday in preparation for our final, which is a nice distraction from Alex. At least it forces me to pay attention. Thanks to Ana, I’m a little more confident each time I’m called up there—even if I only have two Jolly Ranchers on my desk while most of the class has five or six.

I’m staring at the back of Alex’s beautiful curls, trying not to be too wistful as he races against Audrena Jones, when there’s a knock at the door. A moment later, Principal Lawrence sticks her head in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she tells Mrs. Donaldson. Her eyes find mine. “Kira? Can I speak to you for a moment?” She gestures for me to gather my belongings.

I feel the stares of everyone in the class as I grab my things. Every horrible thought crosses through my mind: My dad has relapsed. He’s been taken down to the station again. Cedarville Elementary has fired him for showing up drunk.

Panic rises in my chest. I don’t want to have to call Aunt June about this.

Once we’re out in the hallway, Principal Lawrence shoots me a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry to be the one to bring you this news, but your grandmother is in the hospital.”

I’m hit with a sudden wave of déjà vu. No, that can’t be right. Grams was in the hospital more than two years ago. She must have me confused with another student.

Principal Lawrence must sense my bewilderment. “Your… Nonnie? I assumed it was your grandmother, but—”

My blood freezes. I forget how to breathe.

“What hospital?”

“Merciful Heart,” she says. “We can write you a pass.”

I can’t find the words to form a coherent reply. Instead I turn and head down the hallway, breaking into a run as soon as my feet hit the pavement of the school parking lot.

There’s no way. No way. Nonnie can’t be in the hospital. I mean, I know she’s older—she can’t run around the yard with Wallis like Saylor can—but she’s fine. We talked last night. She was fine.

I miraculously make every green light on the way to the hospital. When I walk through the sliding doors of the emergency room, I’m relieved to see that Peach and Saylor are already here. He looks devastated.

“Your father is on his way,” Peach says, her voice small.

I blink back tears. “What happened?”

“Stroke. One of the volunteers at the shelter called her an ambulance and rode with her here.”

Saylor sits back down. He covers his face with his hands.

I turn back to Peach. Her lips are uncharacteristically nude, removed of her typical magenta lipstick. “What’s going to happen? Is she okay?”

“We’re not sure. She’s… not conscious right now.”

I feel myself nodding. Peach guides me to a chair. She repeats things the doctor has told her. Nonnie experienced an ischemic stroke. One of her blood vessels blocked the flow of blood to her brain. They don’t know the extent of the damage just yet, but her doctor will come by and see us when they have any further updates.

I sit in the chair beside Peach and wait, but it doesn’t feel like I’m here to see Nonnie. I saw her this morning. She was sitting on the kitchen stool while Saylor toasted her Pop-Tart and Peach ranted on about how she couldn’t believe they were eating Pop-Tarts when she brought back fresh bakery items from her shifts.

My dad shows up a half hour later. I wrap my arms around him as Peach tells him everything we know. Then we go back to waiting in silent agony.

An hour goes by. Then two.

When Nonnie’s doctor finds us an hour later, he tells us she’s conscious. My hope deflates as he continues to say that she’s not in the best condition. We can expect to see physical impairments in her face. She’s having trouble speaking and seems to be very confused. He believes seeing familiar faces might help, but he says we shouldn’t overwhelm her. He tells us it’s best to visit two at a time.

Peach and Saylor go in first and when they come back forty minutes later, Peach’s eyes are red. Saylor looks like he’s having a hard time holding it together.

“Just be prepared,” Peach tells us softly. She has her arm around Saylor. “I’m going to drive him home to get a change of clothes. He wants to stay here tonight.”

My dad nods. “We’ll see you soon.”

I follow my dad down the long hallway until we reach her room in the ICU. My heart clenches as we step inside. This isn’t Nonnie. She’s dressed in a drab gray gown. No glasses. No chunky turquoise jewelry. Her hair is flat, so unlike her typical robust curls. Worse, the left side of her face isn’t even. Her mouth is pulled down in a terribly unnatural way, almost like a Picasso painting.

My throat tightens into a knot. I swallow, but it refuses to dissolve.

My dad speaks first. “Nonnie,” he says gently. “You gave us all quite a scare.”

Nonnie blinks, like she’s struggling to put the pieces of my father’s words together. She looks tired. Exhausted. Finally, she simply nods.

“Saylor and Peach will be back,” he continues, walking over to her and taking her hand. “Saylor’s bringing your Queen CD and a few changes of clothes for you. But you have to rest up so we can bring you back home, okay?”

Nonnie blinks. Several minutes pass before she says, “Freddie.”

My tears are falling freely now. “We’ll blast Freddie so hard we’ll annoy everyone in here.”

Nonnie’s eyes fall on me, as if she’s just now recognizing that I’m here.

“Ma,” she says.

I look to my dad, but he only squeezes my hand.

She continues to stare at me, as if wanting reassurance that I’m her. “Mama?”

My emotional barrier collapses. The doctor warned us she would be confused, but I didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

Nonnie’s crying now. It’s hard to understand what she’s saying. She struggles to enunciate. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I break into a thousand shattered pieces. Nonnie never cries. Not strong, beautiful, confident Nonnie. An uncontrolled sob bursts from my lips. She’s not there. This isn’t her.

My dad puts an arm around me. I can tell I’m upsetting her. More tears fall down her face.

“I forgive you,” I say, trying to make my words even. I don’t know why she thinks I’m her mother, but I hope giving her closure will help. “Don’t worry, I forgive you.”

Her mouth tries to smile. She reaches for me, but it’s a struggle for her. I step closer and clasp her hand. It’s so cold.

My dad and I leave when Saylor and Peach come back. Saylor’s brought Nonnie’s favorite neon cheetah scarf and her worn kitten slippers, but I can’t tell if Nonnie recognizes them. I hope Freddie Mercury will be a comfort for her tonight.

I don’t feel like driving back home alone, so my dad tells me we can swing by and get my car in the morning.

My dad takes a deep breath. “Nonnie’s parents died several years ago. She was still drinking at the time. One of her biggest regrets was not asking them for forgiveness.”

I think of what she told me a while back. You always have to forgive your own mistakes. Otherwise they’ll eat you alive. I didn’t think of it then, but I know now. She was speaking from experience. Nonnie never forgave herself for not making peace with her parents. It breaks my heart knowing it broke her.

“She talked about them a lot in Sober Living,” my dad continues. “Her counselors told her over and over that her parents would be proud of who she’s become.”

I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “There’s no one else like her.”

My dad gives me a sad smile. “No one.”

We’re quiet the rest of the way home. I wish I’d taken the time to get to know her better. When she gets out of the hospital, I promise myself I will. I’ve been so self-centered with my own problems, but she was always there to comfort me. Even after I said all those horrible things, she still forgave me. I didn’t think it meant much before, but I was wrong.

It means everything.