Relax. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.
Let’s think about this rationally. I fell down the stairs. I bumped my head. I’m clearly confused. Maybe even still unconscious. Maybe I’m lying in a heap at the bottom of the grand staircase, making all of this up in my head.
So it’s some kind of psychedelic, whack-to-the-head dream.
But if this is a dream, why does my head hurt so much?
And why are my legs so cold?
Why does everything about this room—this whole place—feel so real?
The nurse hangs up the phone and approaches me, taking my hand and giving it a pat. “You’re going to be fine. The doctor is on her way.”
Doctor?
Oh no. That’s not good. I’ve already been humiliated enough. All I need right now is to be carried out of the Windsor Academy on a stretcher.
I sit up again and hop off the cot. “That’s okay. I’m totally better now. See, good as new.” I knock against my head with my fist, immediately regretting it because my skull knocks back with a painful thump.
The nurse looks unconvinced. “What about your memory loss?”
“Memory loss?” I force out an overeager laugh. “You believed that? I was totally faking it! Ha ha! Pretty good, huh?”
I need to get out of here. I need to figure out what is happening and I can’t do it with Nurse Nosy-Pants over there staring at me like I’m in a science experiment.
“But,” she argues, “just a second ago, you didn’t remember you were even a student here.”
I wave this away like it’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. “Of course I remember I’m a student here. I’m wearing the uniform, aren’t I?” My voice cracks at the end. I clear my throat as I scoop up the navy blazer that I dropped and take a step toward the door, hoping she doesn’t try to tackle me to the ground. “Well, I better go. Gotta get to Mr. Futz’s AP language arts.”
“You mean Mr. Fitz?”
I laugh again. It sounds incredibly strained. “Yes. Him. And you better call back that doctor so she doesn’t come all the way over here for nothing.”
I bolt out of the nurse’s office and glance down the empty hallway. I have no idea where I am. Yes, I’ve studied the online campus maps extensively, but the nurse’s office is not one of the things they advertise.
I take a left and start jogging down the corridor, slowly recognizing the interior as Royce Hall, the campus’s main building, which means I haven’t gone far.
I just need to find my way to the parking lot. Then I can get in my car, drive home, take a long hot bath, and try to figure out what in the world is happening to me.
I spot an exit at the end of another long hall and veer right. I walk briskly, trying to ignore the incessant pounding in my head. But right before I reach the door, I hear the chimes again—that beautiful melodic song—and a second later the hallway is flooded with students.
Did another period just end? How long was I unconscious?
I keep moving toward my escape, but I have to swim through the masses of uniformed bodies rushing to go the opposite way. I’ve almost made it to the exit when a voice calls out behind me. “Crusher!”
I keep pushing on, wiggling through the narrow gaps in the bodies.
“Crusher!” the voice comes again, sounding closer this time.
I’m just reaching for the door handle when the same voice screams, “KENNEDY!” and I feel a tug on my shirtsleeve.
I turn around and nearly pass out all over again.
Because standing there before me, looking right at me as though she knows me, as though she expects me to know her, is none other than CoyCoy55.
“Thank God, you’re okay. I told that stupid Nurse Wilson you were fine. I mean, you hit your head but it’s not like it was that hard. But she wouldn’t let me take you to class. How did you finally escape? Did you drug her? Did you knock her unconscious with the fire extinguisher? You know what? I don’t need to know the details. The point is now you can turn in your PE, but you don’t have much time.”
CoyCoy55 has been talking a mile a minute and I’ve been struggling to keep up. Either because of the whack I took to the head or because I’m still in shock over the fact that she knows my name when we’ve never even met before. Sure, I semi-stalk her on SnipPic, but she doesn’t know that.
Does she?
CoyCoy55 tugs on my sleeve again. “Come on! You have less than”—she checks her phone and lets out a squeak—“three minutes! We need to hurry!”
In addition to my tongue not being able to form words, my legs don’t seem to want to move either. It’s like my feet have fused to this shiny tile floor.
“Crusher,” she urges impatiently. “You know Mr. Fitz. He won’t accept your PE if it’s even a minute late.”
I know Mr. Fitz?
I don’t know any Mr. Fitzes. Also, why does she keep calling me Crusher? And what is this PE everyone keeps talking about? What does PE even stand for?
Physical education?
Psychology exam?
Pork enchilada?
I hold my head in my hands, trying to squeeze some sense into it. “Hold on a second,” I’m finally able to say. “How do you know me?”
CoyCoy55 stares at me for a long time, her mouth pulling into a pout. Then after a moment, she breaks into nervous laughter. “Oh, I get it. You’re messing with me. Pretending you really do have brain damage or something. Har-dee-har-har-har. Very funny. But it won’t work. I know you better than anyone, Crusher, and it would take more than a tumble down the stairs to mess with that big brain of yours.”
I blink rapidly, trying to follow even a smidgen of what she’s saying, but I come up decidedly short. There were just too many things coming out of her mouth that I want to pick apart and analyze.
She gives me another tug on the arm. “Let’s. Go!”
But I’m still in too much shock to move.
“Fine,” she resigns. “Maybe you do have brain damage or whatever, but it’s going to have to wait until after you turn in the first draft of your PE. It’s 20 percent of our grade, remember?”
No! I want to scream. I don’t remember! I don’t understand a single thing that’s happening right now.
“I…” I stammer, trying to figure out which part of this messed-up situation I should address first. “I don’t have my PE.”
CoyCoy55 waves this away like it’s an annoying fly. “Of course you have your PE. You showed it to me this morning on the way to school.”
On the way to school?
“I…” I falter. “I didn’t come to school today. I went to my Columbia interview.”
Didn’t I?
CoyCoy55 gives me a pitying look. “No, sweetie. That was another dream. You’ve been having nightmares about that interview for months.”
I stifle a gasp. How does she know that?
“Your interview isn’t for another two days. Relax.”
“What?” I ask, my mouth falling open.
I haven’t even had the interview yet?
“Oh God.” She puts her hand to her mouth. “Maybe you bonked your head harder than I thought.” She leans forward and speaks to me slowly in short, simple sentences. “This morning you were with me. We came to school. I drove. You read me the first page of your PE in the car. It’s very good.” She twists her mouth thoughtfully. “Maybe even better than mine, but I don’t want to talk about that.”
I’m trying to focus on her. I really am. But my eyes keep glazing over and my head seems to throb in pain with every word that she says.
I drove to school with her? Why don’t I remember that?
Maybe I really do have a concussion.
But what about all the stuff I do remember? Bombing my interview? Driving here and sneaking through the gate? Talking to Dean Lewis?
CoyCoy55 is still staring expectantly at me, waiting for me to produce this mysterious PE thing out of thin air.
PE.
Physics experiment?
Parabolic equation?
Pulmonary embolism?
“I…” I begin again, glancing around for help. “I don’t know where I put it.”
She rolls her big green eyes. “It’s in your bag, silly.” Then she looks me up and down and her eyes widen. “Wait, where is your bag?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
CoyCoy55 looks at her phone again and presses her lips tightly together like she’s trying to hold back a scream. “Okay, last I saw, it was in the nurse’s office. I carried it in after you fell. Did you leave it there?”
“You were there when I fell?” I search my muddled thoughts for the memory of my spill down the stairs. I remember seeing CoyCoy55 on the stairs. I remember her brushing past me and continuing into the building. Did she run back out when she heard all the commotion?
“Of course I was there!” she practically yells, throwing her hands in the air. “You were walking right next to me. We were on our way to English. Then that idiot knocked into you and you slipped. I tried to catch you, but you fell so fast.”
I close my eyes and squeeze my head again. What is she talking about? That’s not how it happened at all. Is she lying?
CoyCoy55 glances at her phone again. “Okay, we’ll rehash the details of your untimely almost-demise later. Right now, we need to get your PE and get it to Fitz’s room.” She taps her large white teeth thoughtfully with her fingernail. “You probably shouldn’t go back into the nurse’s office. Nurse Wilson might inject you with a sedative to try to detain you.”
“Really?” I blurt out.
CoyCoy55 shoots me a look out of the corner of her eye. “No, not really. But she definitely will try to keep you there. So I’ll go get your bag and you wait here.”
Without another word, she spins on her heels and takes off down the hall.
I stand there for a few seconds, my thoughts chaotically banging around my head like rocks in a blender. I stare down the hallway at CoyCoy55’s vanishing form. Then I turn and stare at the door to the outside.
I could do it. I could run away right now. I could bust through that door, find my car, drive straight home, and stick my head under a cold faucet until the world starts making sense again. Or I wake up.
Whichever comes first.
I take a tentative step toward the exit but I don’t get very far, because a split second later, CoyCoy55’s breathless voice comes echoing down the empty hallway. “Crusher! I’ve got your bag. Let’s go!”
I glance back at the door, trying to figure out which of my current conflicting desires is stronger—the desperate urge to get out of here or the burning curiosity to learn more about this strange planet I’ve seemed to crash-land on.
“CRUSHER!” CoyCoy55 shouts from the end of the hallway. “I’m trying to save your brain-damaged butt right now and you’re not helping.”
The curiosity wins.