I suppose there comes a time in everyone’s life when they die. For me, I’ve died and come back; at least that’s what the doctor has told my parents. I was so excited to see them, but they can’t see or hear me. Even now I’m trying to hold my mom’s hand, but she doesn’t feel me squeezing her back, even though she’s begging me to. In fact, she’s asking me to do all sorts of things like open my eyes or wiggle my toes. I am doing everything she asks. She just can’t see me. It’s like I’m in another realm where I can see and hear them, but everything I do, every question I respond to or comment I make lingers in the air.

Everyone is crying, and that’s saying a lot because I have never seen my dad cry until today. Sure, he’s had misty eyes like when Quinn left for college or when he came home and showed us the Oscar that 4225 West had won for best song in a movie, but never have I been witness to seeing him cry like he is now. I tried to comfort him, to put my arms around him like I used to when I was little, but it didn’t do anything to help ease his pain.

The same can be said about Quinn. He’s always been the big brother to us, our protector. We had Noah for that as well, but the age difference made it so we were rarely in school together. Quinn fell right in the middle of our group. Friends with Noah and brother to Elle and me, and until today I have never seen him cry. Not even when he was in trouble or when he was given his first drum set. But now he is. He’s sobbing and holding onto Elle as if I’ve died already.

Maybe I have died and this is me as a ghost, standing on the outside and watching as my family falls apart. We’ve always been a strong unit, supporting each other’s goals and aspirations. Growing up, our parents encouraged us to find ourselves and to follow what we love. It’s how I ended up in Chicago while the rest of my family lived in Los Angeles. Elle wanted the sun, the sand, and surfers. Quinn wanted the music scene. My parents wanted solitude and quiet. I wanted the crazy, hectic life of a sports reporter.

There’s no doubt in my mind that my time to shine was about to happen. Being on the sideline, even for one game, was going to be enough to catapult me into something amazing. I had big plans for that article even if my professor was the only one to see it. I would’ve used it as a reference when I applied at ESPN or Fox Sports. I suppose meeting Kyle changed all that.

Speaking of, I still don’t know where he is. In my current state, it seems that I can roam the halls freely. I’ve tried to converse with the nurses and other staff members, but it’s as if they can see right through me.

The hall is quiet, except for the annoying beeping sound coming from every room on this floor. I peek in each one, most patients are sleeping and only a few have people in them. My room by far is the most packed with bodies, all here to say goodbye according to the doctor that stuck those odd drumsticks into my chest.

Yet, I’m not ready to go. I’m not done being me. I continue to visit each room, looking for someone like me that can tell me what I’m going through. Is this common for people who have died? The only other person I know is my father and I was far too young to remember anything other than his funeral. Sure, I can recall bits and pieces of my life with him, but his funeral is vivid and often plays like a movie when I’m not sleeping well.

The double doors open when I approach. This hall is far quieter than the one I was just in, with the only sound coming from the television. The noise is easy to follow and I’m surprised to find the room empty when I arrive. Whoever left it on would be in trouble and on dish duty for a week in our house. That thought makes me giggle a little bit because it was always Quinn who left something on and was stuck with that horrible chore.

As I approach the elevator, it opens for me. I’m alone and the number for the fifth floor is lit up but once the doors close they open again. There are a lot of people waiting to get on so I step off quickly, not wanting to be the reason they’re held up any longer.

This floor is busy with nurses walking up and down the hall, patients being wheeled in their chairs to their next destination and a police officer standing outside one of the rooms. That’s the one I go in, curious as to what they did to warrant a policeman to stand guard at their door.

It’s Kyle! I rush to his bed only to realize that he can’t see me either. His leg is in a cast that extends up his thigh and his arm is bandaged. He’ll surely be done for the season with an injury like that, and he’s probably very upset about it.

There’s another officer in the room talking to Kyle. It’s only after I hear my name that I start to pay attention.

“Tell me again how you met Peyton James?”

“It’s Powell-James,” I tell him, but he doesn’t seem to repeat the change. My dad has always insisted that we hyphenate even though it can get a bit tedious.

“I met her before warm-ups. I thought she was beautiful and she knew her stuff about football. That was an instant turn-on so I asked her out.”

“Kyle that’s so sweet,” I say.

“You said thought?” the officer says to Kyle, which confuses me.

“She was dead… I mean…” Kyle shakes his head and looks out the window. I wish he’d look at me so he could see that I’m not dead. I’m alive and standing right next to him.

“Did she have her seatbelt on?”

Kyle nods.

“Were you speeding?”

He shakes his head. “The truck… I didn’t see it until it was too late. I couldn’t do anything to move my car out of its way.”

“It’s okay, Kyle,” I tell him as I run my fingers over his hair. He seems to like that since he closes his eyes and leans his head toward me.

“Were you angry that you lost tonight?”

I look at the officer and say, “What kind of question is that?”

“I was, but I was looking forward to spending some time with her.”

“Me too, Kyle.”

“When they run your toxicology screen will they find anything?”

Kyle shakes his head again. “I’m clean.”

“Kyle stop answering his questions.”

I turn to find a man walking in the room and handing the officer a card. He seems angry and quickly tosses his briefcase and jacket into the chair that rests by the window.

“From this point forward if you need to speak to my client, you will do so when I’m present.”

“Have a good day, Mr. Zimmerman.”

“Asshole,” the man mutters to the officer’s back. “What the hell happened, Kyle?”

Once again he’s shaking his head. “I don’t even know. One minute I’m talking to Peyton and the next the roof of my car is flying away and she’s in my lap. There was so much blood and screaming.”

“She was screaming? That’s good. That means she was alive when they transported her.”

“No, I was screaming. She didn’t make a sound. She just laid there like she was sleeping,” he tells the man.

Kyle’s friend leans down and peers into his eyes. I do the same, wanting to know what he’s looking for or what he’s seeing. “Any drugs in your system?”

“No, I swear to God I’m clean.”

The man nods and stands back up, but I’m still looking. I like Kyle’s eyes. They’re green, but look lifeless right now.

“This doesn’t look good, Kyle. If she dies--”

“She’s still alive?” he asks.

“Yeah, but they don’t expect her to make it through the night. Her family is with her now.”

“I want to see her,” Kyle says, but his friend is shaking his head. Why can’t he go see me? Maybe Kyle is the reason I’m not awake yet. Maybe I’m waiting for him. This man should help Kyle to my room so he can see me.

“Kyle…” his friend sighs and looks out the window. “Her dad is pretty famous and I’m afraid there will be a lawsuit. I don’t want you going up there to see her to be seen as a sign of guilt.”

I don’t understand what the man means about my dad being famous and a lawsuit. It was an accident and not something Kyle could’ve prevented.

“I am guilty. I should’ve seen the truck. I should’ve looked again before pulling out. She’s up there dying because of me. Her family needs to know that I’m sorry, that I was taking her to dinner after the game because I like her, they need to know that I thought she was beautiful and loved that in the few minutes we spoke she had me in awe of her football knowledge. They should know that I never wanted to hurt her and that I wanted to spend time with her and get to know her better.”

“Oh, Kyle,” I say wishing he could hear me. He turns his head away from me as if he doesn’t want me to see his tears, but it’s too late.

“I’ll talk to their lawyer and see what the family wants to do, but don’t get your hopes up.” The man grabs his coat and briefcase and hastily leaves the room. Kyle punches his bed with his free hand and slams his head back into his pillow. His tears flow more heavily now and he turns away from me to face the window.

I take that as my sign to leave and return to the hallway, which is still busy. Nurses run down the hall toward the elevator and I follow, curious as to what is happening. They run through a set of double doors, but I’m unable to keep up. I try to return to Kyle’s room, but can’t find my way back. The only things visible to me are the elevators. I step back on and the number seven is illuminated taking me back to the floor where I am.

In the waiting room, I see my uncle Liam, holding my cousin Betty Paige. He’s singing to her while he rocks her back and forth. Paige was such a cute and fun baby, although anytime uncle Liam was around, he was holding her. I heard aunt Josie tell my mom one time that Liam was making up for lost time because he wasn’t there for Noah. The doors open and my dad and Quinn are standing outside the room I’m staying in. They look lost and in pain. I step back into my room to find my sister, mom, my nurse and aunt Josie flanking my sides. But that isn’t who catches my attention.

It’s Noah.

My Noah.

He’s come to see me. To be here when I wake up. I stand in front of him, looking up so I can see his eyes and let my fingers ghost over the worry lines that have seemed to appear on his forehead. The normal vibrancy, the happiness that is usually there is missing. He peers down at my body and chokes on a sob. My instincts tell me to reach out to him, to catch him before he falls, but instead, it’s Elle. She’s there to break his fall and to hold him as he makes the most agonizing cry I have ever heard.