Oh, fuck—have I been drugged?

I try to say roofies, but nothing comes out.

“Hang in there, princess,” another voice says.

Dad’s here? Why is Dad at school?

“How long will it be until she’s fully conscious?” someone else asks, her tone high-pitched and frantic.

Carson.

“Once her eyelids begin to flutter, we’ll have a better idea,” the first voice says. “Let her do this at her own pace. Talk to her, but don’t try to coax her out of her sleep. It’ll just make her more groggy and confused when she wakes up.”

A warm hand—Dad’s, I think—takes mine and holds it firmly, providing me with his trademark strength through his skin and bones and blood.

I smell antiseptic and latex, and using all of the strength I can muster, I manage to crack open my eyes.

I’m in the hospital.

Why am I in the hospital?

“Whuh—whuh-uh hap-p-ed.”

Those are my first words and they’re not even real words. But Dad and Carson are immediately up in my face, as though getting closer to me will make me speak more. I try again, but my words are too garbled, like my mouth has forgotten how to form them.

“Did she say ‘hat pins’?”

Rainey comes over and peers down at me.

“I heard ‘lap dance.’”

Is that Wyatt? Jesus, how many people are in this room right now?

“Whu-ut. H-h-hap. Ennnd.” I feel victorious, despite the fact that my eyes burn from the acrid smell of rubbing alcohol, and my mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton.

“There was an accident, princess,” Dad says quietly. “You’re at the hospital.”

I want to nod, but now my senses seem to be returning—and the sense of touch informs me that I’ve got some kind of weird brace thing around my neck. I manage to reach up and pull at the stiff material.

“No, honey, don’t mess with that yet,” a nurse, the owner of the first voice, says. She places both her hands on my shoulders and refastens the neck brace.

I try to lick my lips, but my tongue is so dry, it’s no use.

“Wa-t-ter.”

The nurse hands me a foam cup with a lid and straw.

“I’m Jessica—the day shift nurse,” she says, smiling warmly. I take the cup gratefully. As soon as the cool liquid meets my tongue, I moan with relief.

“Thanks,” I croak.

Dad wheels himself a little closer to the head of the bed, then reaches out to stroke my face.

“How are you feeling, princess?”

I want to shrug, so I try, but there’s an immediate, searing pain rolling up and over my chest.

“H-hurts,” I finally manage. Dad nods.

“You got yourself a half dozen broken ribs. It’s bound to be painful.”

Broken ribs?

I take a deep breath in and immediately wince. It even hurts to breathe. I can’t imagine actually getting out of this bed and functioning right now.

“There was an accident,” Carson says, coming around the other side of the bed. “You were struck by a car.”

I furrow my brows, trying to recall any details. “Is my car okay?”

Carson and my dad share a glance.

“You weren’t in your car,” she says quietly. “You were standing in a parking lot—in the school parking lot. At Franklin.”

Dad licks his lips nervously and he’s watching me closely, like he’s afraid the whole incident will come rushing back at me all at once.

Which is a rational fear, I suppose, since that’s exactly what happens.

The basketball game. I’d been chaperoning.

I’d gone out into the faculty parking lot.

Smith was there. So was J. D.

There was a bag of pills.

All I saw were headlights. And then I saw nothing.

“I felt like I was flying,” I say slowly.

Rainey cracks a smile.

“Well, your landing was a little rough, and you’ve got some legit bruises,” she assures me with a wink. “But you look pretty hard-core.”

I try to take a shallow, shorter breath, but it feels wholly unsatisfying.

“What day is it?”

“Saturday,” Carson answers. “You slept straight through the night and most of the day today.”

Now that I’m able to focus on the people around me, I notice how exhausted everyone looks. I wonder if they all stayed up last night, waiting at my bedside, hoping I’d open my eyes.

There’s a cough coming from the doorway, and my gaze flickers over to see Officer Rains leaning against the frame.

“You’re awake,” he says, smiling at me. “I hope that means you’ll forgive me for having to ask you some questions.”

He glances around the room.

“Alone.”

My friends take the hint.

“I really need to be getting back to Holly Fields anyway,” Wyatt says. He wheels his chair closer to me and grabs my hand.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Cyn.”

He says it so quietly, it’s practically a whisper. I just nod, swallowing hard. He smiles at my Dad, who pats his shoulder as he leaves the room.

Rainey is next, then Carson—both of them try to hug me with the lightest possible embrace. Rainey kisses my cheek, and Carson grabs both of my hands.

“I love you,” she says fiercely. “I don’t know what I would have done if—well, I just want you to know how much I love you.”

“I know,” I say, trying my best to smile. “I love you back.”

They both hug my dad before walking out the door, although Rainey stops to ogle Officer Rains for a second before she leaves.

“Can I stay with her for this?” Dad asks him. “Or do you need me to leave?”

“You can stay. It might be better. Easier.”

Dad smiles at me, then strokes my hand.

“Honey, you can relax—the police aren’t here because you did anything wrong. They just have to ask you a few questions about the accident.”

I manage to nod the slightest bit. “I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be.”

“Just tell the truth, Hyacinth.”

I close my eyes for a long second, then open them. How am I supposed to tell a police officer that his brother was part of a drug deal on school property?

“How are you feeling?” Officer Rains asks, moving closer to me.

I swallow hard. “I’m—I’m okay.”

“Good—that’s good.” He pulls a small notepad from his pocket, along with a ballpoint pen. “I’m going to need to ask you a few questions about last night. We’ve already gotten a lot of information from other witnesses, but we need your version of the story to corroborate the details.”

Other witnesses.

He’s talking about Smith.

“You can ask me whatever you need to,” I manage to say.

Rains clears his throat.

“I really only have one. I need to know about my brother.”

I glance up at Rains. He’s leaning with his back against the nearby wall, and his arms are crossed over his chest. His expression is impassive, his body language fierce. For a second, he reminds me so much of Smith.

“What about him?” I ask.

“What was he doing during all of this?”

“He was talking to J. D. Then, after I was hit, he was next to me. He—he stayed with me, I think.”

He nods. “He rode with you in the ambulance actually. But what I meant was, what was he doing before that? Like, when he was talking to J. D., was there anything exchanged?”

I blink at him. “I—I’m not sure.”

He shifts in his chair. “Are you sure you’re not sure?”

I can feel my pulse quicken, which is kind of a problem when you’re hooked up to a heart monitor. All three of us glance over at it when it starts to beep in warning. I look up at Officer Rains again.

“There was cash,” I finally whisper. “And a bag of something. Pills, I think.”

“Thank you.” He gives me a sad smile—the kind of smile you see when a man finds out his younger brother is involved in drugs.

“I—Smith tried to save me,” I sort of stutter. “He’s made some mistakes, but he’s not a criminal. He’s a good person. I don’t want to see him get into trouble.”

Officer Rains walks closer to me.