And then the whole thing came crashing down.

On me.

And — just like in Journeyquest, when I make a mistake and my character loses a life — everything went black.

Images. That’s what I became aware of next.

Like the kind you see floating on the back of your eyelids if you press the heels of your hands against them when you have a headache. Just shapes really, floating in space.

I watched them, wondering what they were. They looked like amoebas … no, like Christopher’s hair, underwater in the swimming pool, when they made us do laps in PE last time, and I was spying on him with my goggles…

Wait a minute. What was I doing in PE? Had I fallen underwater? But I wasn’t wet. At least, I was pretty sure I wasn’t… I didn’t feel wet. Did I?

How could I be seeing Christopher’s hair underwater if I wasn’t wet?

Maybe my eyes weren’t open. Were my eyes closed or open? Why couldn’t I lift up my hand to feel my face and see? My hand felt so heavy … I couldn’t even lift it…

Why was I so tired?

So tired…

I heard voices. The voices were saying things. What were they saying? I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t understand them. I was too tired to understand them. Who kept talking? Why wouldn’t they let me sleep?

Wait. That was Mom’s voice. Mom was the one who was doing all that talking. Mom and… who else? Dad. That was Dad. Mom and Dad were talking. They were saying things. They wanted me to wake up. Why? Why couldn’t I just go on sleeping?

I knew I should listen to them — whenever Mom tells us to do something, Frida and I always do it. Eventually anyway.

But I felt like I couldn’t move. Like I’d been turned to stone. I just wanted to go on sleeping forever.

Still, I could hear Mom, her voice charged with urgency.

‘Em! Em, if you can hear me, open your eyes! Open your eyes, Em. Just open your eyes for a minute, Em.’

I knew that old trick. The second she knew I was awake, Mom would make me get up and empty the dishwasher or go to school or something equally hideous. I wasn’t falling for that one.

‘Em! Please! Please, just open your eyes.’

She sounded pretty upset, though. Maybe the apartment was on fire. Maybe I should do what she said. Just open my eyes for a second to see what she wanted.

‘Please, Em… ’

She sounded like she was crying actually. I didn’t want to make my mom cry. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.

So I tried to open my eyes. I really did. I wanted to.

But they just… wouldn’t open.

My eyes wouldn’t open.

I heard my mother crying, and I heard my dad comforting her, murmuring, ‘It’s all right, Karen.’

‘In cases like this,’ I heard another, unfamiliar man’s voice saying, ‘it’s not unusual for —’

I didn’t hear the rest of what the man was saying because I was too busy concentrating on trying to make my eyes open. Only I couldn’t get my eyelids to lift. I really couldn’t. It was like they were made of lead, and I was just too weak to raise them.

So then I tried to open my mouth to tell my mom not to cry, that I was fine, just so tired. Maybe if they let me rest a little more…

But I found I couldn’t open my mouth either.

That was a little scary. For a minute. But the truth was, I was really just so tired… it was so much easier to go back to sleep. I’d tell Mom later, I decided… about my being too tired to do what she asked. I’d explain it all later, when I wasn’t so sleepy. I needed to get my energy back. I’d be fine with a few more hours of sleep.

Finally I managed to open my eyes. Not because anyone was calling my name. Not because I was seeing amoebas behind my eyelids. My eyes just… opened.

All by themselves.

But when they did, and I looked around, I was surprised to find I wasn’t in a swimming pool, or even at home, but in a bed in a hospital room.

I could tell that I was in a bed in a hospital room, because even though it was pretty dark — it had to be night-time — nothing looked familiar to me. The walls were beige, not the Navajo White I’d painted my walls back home in a fit one day, because I couldn’t stand the bland eggshell the rest of the walls in our apartment were.

And all my posters — from the Journeyquest movie, which I know had sucked, but the posters were cool — were gone. So were all my postcards from that field trip we took to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Instead, all I could see were wires. Wires that appeared to be coming out of me. They were hooked up to machines beside the bed I was in, which were whirring softly and occasionally making pinging noises.

Fortunately I didn’t get scared or anything, because sitting in a chair next to the machines was my dad. He was sleeping.

I tried to think why I would be in a hospital with wires coming out of me. I am actually a very healthy person and have only been to the hospital once, when I broke my arm falling off the see-saw in our apartment building’s playground in the second grade. Had I fallen off something again? I couldn’t remember climbing on anything. How had I ended up in the hospital? I didn’t feel hurt. Just super-duper tired.

But I felt better than my dad looked. He had a lot of grey stubble all over his face, like he hadn’t shaved in a long, long time (which seemed kind of funny to me, since when I’d seen him just last night at dinner, he hadn’t had a beard. Or had he? Looking back, I couldn’t seem to remember… hadn’t I had dinner with my dad last night? It seemed so long ago…). Also, his shirt was super wrinkly and there were some stains on it.

The truth was, my dad looked pretty awful. I wondered why my dad would look like that. I didn’t want to wake him up to ask though. That seemed like it would be a selfish thing to do.

On the other hand… I was so thirsty. Seriously. I thought I was going to die of thirst.

But there didn’t appear to be anyone else around. And it looked as if, whatever was wrong with me, it was kind of serious, given all the tubes and wires.

If I could just get a sip of water I’d go right back to sleep, no questions asked…

I opened my mouth and tried to say Dad’s name. At first nothing happened.

That’s right. I tried to say the word Dad and no sound at all came out of my mouth. I had to try a couple more times before I was able to make any kind of noise and, even then, it was more of a grunt than anything else.

‘Dad?’

Only the word sounded really strange. I don’t know why. Maybe my voice was rusty from lack of use or something. Or thirst.

But my dad’s head jerked up anyway, and he stared at me all bugeyed. ‘Er… Em?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘H-hey,’ I said. ‘S-sorry —’

Except that came out sounding weird too. What was wrong with my voice?

Dad seemed to think my voice sounded weird too, since, his eyes still wide, he jumped up from his chair, yelling, ‘Doctor! Doctor!’ and then rushed off.

Which indicated to me that I must be more hurt than I’d originally thought.

But I was too tired to wait around to find out how hurt. Seriously, I felt even more tired than I usually feel in first-period Public Speaking. Which is pretty tired. Probably if I didn’t stay up all night playing Journeyquest with Christopher — then have to stay up the rest of the night finishing my homework — I’d be able to get up in the morning, but…

I wanted to stay awake. I really did. I wanted to find out what was wrong with me, and why I was in the hospital. I wanted to get some water…

But I just couldn’t keep my eyes open a minute longer. I closed them, thinking I’d just take a little nap until Dad got back.

But of course I went back to sleep. Mmmm, sleep. Delicious sleep.

I hoped I wouldn’t start drooling after I dropped off. But I figured in a hospital they must be totally used to that.