Someone Like You (28 page)

Of course she wasn't home. She was off jousting, or doing medieval dances, or whatever she and Vlad did on their theme weekends. The phone rang and rang before the machine came on, and I hung up and did what came instinctively. I called my mother.

“Halley?” she said, before I even finished my hello. “Where
are
you? Mrs. Vaughn just called and said Noah had been found drunk in the school parking lot and Norman had to go down there to pick him up from the principal, she's completely hysterical and no one knew what happened to you....”

“Mom.”

“I trusted you not to drink, and I don't know what got into Noah, he's never been in trouble before and John was just livid, apparently...”

“Mom,” I said again, louder this time. “The baby's coming.”

“The baby?” There was a sudden silence. “What, now? Right now?”

“Yes.” Beside me the Boy Scouts were banging on a candy machine, grumbling about being gypped, and Cameron was a few seats down with his eyes closed, slumped in a plastic chair. “I'm at the hospital, they just took Scarlett away and I don't have time to explain about Noah right now, okay? I can't get in touch with Marion, so when you see her come home, tell her where we are. Tell her to hurry.”

“Is Scarlett okay?”

“She's scared,” I said, thinking of her alone wherever they'd taken her, and how I'd promised to stay right with her, no matter what. “I have to go, okay? I'll call you later.”

“Okay, honey. Let us know.”

“I will.” I hung up the phone and rushed back to Admitting, my dress dragging across the floor, one lone bobby pin still holding it together in the back. As I passed the front entrance I saw Macon and Elizabeth still in the car. They were talking, Macon's mouth moving, one finger pointing, angrily. Elizabeth was just staring out the window, her arm hanging down the side of the car, a cigarette held loosely in her fingers. She didn't even see me.

I went to the Admitting desk, told them I was Scarlett's sister and Lamaze partner, and got led back through the double doors, past the emergency-room cots and curtains, to where they had Scarlett on a bed, the fetal monitor already hooked up and beeping.

“Where have you
been?”
she shrieked as soon as I came around the corner. She had a plastic cup full of ice in her hand and a green gown on, her prom dress tossed over a chair in the corner. “I am
freaking
out here, Halley, and you just vanish into thin air.”

“I did not vanish,” I said gently. “I was calling Marion and handling things at the front desk. I'm here now.”

“Well, good,” she said. “Because I really need-”And then she stopped talking and sat up straight, holding her stomach. She made a low, guttural moaning sound, rising and rising louder and louder, and I just stared at her, not even recognizing her face, and knew all at once I was in way over my head.

The door opened behind me and the doctor came in, all cheerful and easygoing, taking her time walking up to the bed while Scarlett huffed and puffed and grabbed for my hand, which she immediately squeezed so hard I felt bone meeting bone, crunching.

“So,” the doctor said easily, grabbing a chart off the end of the bed, “looks like we're having a baby.”

“Looks that way,” Scarlett said between gasps. “Can I have some drugs, please?”

“In a minute,” the doctor said, moving to the end of the bed and lifting the sheet, moving Scarlett's legs into the stirrups attached to the side of the bed. “Let's see how far along you are.”

She poked and prodded, and Scarlett ground the bones in my hand to powder.

“Okay,” the doctor said, patting the sheet back down, “we're getting close. It shouldn't be too long now, so I just need you to relax, and work your breathing with your partner here. Leave the rest to us.”

“What about the drugs?” Scarlett said urgently. “Can I get the drugs?”

“I'll send someone in shortly,” the doctor said, smiling like we were cute. “Don't worry, honey. It'll be over before you know it.” She slipped the chart back into its place on the end of the bed, tucking her pen behind her ear, and walked out the door, waving as she went.

“I hate her,” Scarlett said decisively through a mouthful of ice. “I mean it.”

“Let's do our breathing,” I suggested, pulling a chair up beside the bed. “Deep breath in, now, okay?”

“I don't want to breathe,” she snapped at me. “I want them to knock me out, completely, even if they just hit me on the head with something. I can't do this, Halley. I can't.”

“Yes, you can,” I said sternly. “We're ready for this.”

“Easy for you to say.” She sucked down more ice. “All you have to do is tell me to breathe and stand there. You've got the easy part.”

“Scarlett. Hold it together.”

She rose up in the bed, spitting frozen shards everywhere. “Don't tell me to hold it together, not until you have felt this pain, because it is unlike anything—” And then she stopped talking, her face going pale again as another contraction hit.

“Breathe,” I said, doing it myself,
puff puff puff,
inhale deep,
puff puff puff.
“Come on.”

But she wasn't breathing, only moaning again, that low scary noise that made me back away from the bed, literally scared for my life. I was wrong.
We weren't ready for this.
This was big, and scary, and I understood suddenly how Cameron must have felt, woozy and terrified all at once. I wished I was out in the waiting room, with the Boy Scouts and the candy machine, pacing and waiting to light up a cigar.

“Stay here,” I said to her, backing away from the bed, step by step, as she stopped moaning suddenly and watched me, eyes wide. “I'll be—”

“Don't leave!” she cried, trying to sit up straight, reaching for the sides of the bed. “Halley, don't—”

But I let the door swing shut behind me and I was suddenly alone, in the corridor, the cool wall pressing against my back where my dress was gaping open. I tried to shake the fear off. I could hear Scarlett on the other side of the door, moaning. Just when she needed me, I was falling apart.

Then, I heard it. The sound of footsteps coming closer, louder and louder,
clack clack clack,
all businesslike as they rounded the corner. I looked to my left and coming toward me, purse tucked under her arm and eyes straight ahead, was my mother.

“Where is she?” she said as she got closer, switching her purse to the other arm.

“In there,” I said. “She's freaking out.”

“Well, let's go.” She reached for the doorknob but I hung back, pressing myself harder against the wall. “Halley? What's wrong?”

“I can't do this,” I said, and my voice sounded strange, high. “It's too crazy, and she's in pain, and I just think—”

“Honey.” She looked at me. “You need to be in there.”

“I can't,” I said again, and my throat hurt when I spoke. “It's too much to deal with.”

“Well, that's too bad,” she said simply, grabbing my shoulder and pushing me toward the door, her hand guiding me from behind. “Scarlett is counting on you. You can't let her down.”

“I'm no help, she wouldn't want me there, I'm a mess,” I said, but she was already opening the door, pushing it with her free hand.

“You are the
only
one she wants,” my mother said, and then we were crossing the room, her arm clamped around my shoulders, back to the bed where Scarlett was sitting up, clenching the sheet in her hands, tears streaming down her face.

“Hi, honey,” my mother said, crossing to the bedside and smoothing down Scarlett's hair. “You're doing great. Just great.”

“Is Marion here?” Scarlett said.

“Not yet, but Brian is over at your house, waiting for her. She'll get here any time now. Don't worry. Now, what can we do for you? Anything?”

“Just don't leave me,” Scarlett said quietly as my mother settled in next to her, laying her purse on the chair with the prom dress. “I don't want to be alone.”

“You won't be.” My mother was eyeing the chair on Scarlett's other side, so I took my place carefully, ashamed. “We're here.”

I looked across the bed, past Scarlett's tired, shiny face as my mother leaned close to her ear, whispering words I couldn't hear. But I knew what they were, what they had to be: the same ones I'd heard after all those bad dreams, all those skate-board and roller-skating accidents, all the times the little fiendettes chased me home on pink bicycles. I watched my mother do what she did best, and realized there would never be a way to cut myself from her entirely. No matter how strong or weak I was, she was a part of me, as crucial as my own heart. I would never be strong enough, in all my life, to do without her.

The doctor looked up at us, nodding.

“Here it comes, Scarlett, I can see the head. Just a couple more big pushes and it's out, so get ready, okay?”

“Not long now,” I whispered to her, squeezing her hand harder. “Almost there.”

“You're doing so great,” my mother said. “Very brave. Much braver than I ever was.”

“It's the drugs,” I said. “Since then it's been a piece of cake.”

“Shut up,” Scarlett snapped. “I swear, when this is over, I am going to
kill
you.”

“Give me another good push!” the doctor said from the foot of the bed. “Get ready!”

“Breathe,” I said to her, taking a deep one myself. “Breathe.”

“Breathe,” my mother repeated, her voice echoing mine. “Come on, honey. You can do it.”

Scarlett braced against me, her hand twisting mine, and I watched her face swallow up her eyes, her mouth fall open, as she pushed harder than she had all night, with every bit of strength she had left.

“Here it comes, it's coming, look at that.” The doctor was smiling from the end of the bed, excited. “Oh, push once more, just a little one, Scarlett, just a tiny one ...”

Scarlett pushed again, gasping, and I watched as the doctor reached down with her hands, groping around, and then, suddenly, she was holding something, something small and red and slimy with kicking feet and a tiny mouth that opened up to wail, a tiny, tiny voice.

“It's a girl,” the doctor said, and the nurses were wiping her off, cleaning out her mouth, and then they put her in Scarlett's arms, against her chest. Scarlett was crying, looking down at her against her skin, closing her eyes. She'd been with us since that summer, growing and growing, and now she was here, real as we were.

“A girl,” Scarlett said softly. “I knew it.”

“She's beautiful,” I told her. “She has my eyes.”

“And my hair,” she said, still crying, her hand brushing the top of the baby's head and the red fuzz there. “Look.”

“You should be very proud,” my mother said, reaching to touch one tiny little hand. “Very proud.” And she looked over and smiled at me.

“I'm going to name her Grace,” Scarlett said. “Grace Halley.”

“Halley?” I said, amazed. “No kidding.”

“No kidding.” She kissed the baby's forehead. “Grace Halley Thomas.”

When I looked down at Grace, I was overwhelmed. She was our year, from the summer with Michael to the winter with Macon. We would never forget.

Scarlett was just beaming, rocking Grace in her arms and kissing the tiny fingers and toes, asking everyone if they had honestly ever seen a more beautiful baby. (It was agreed that no one had.) After we all cooed over her, and Scarlett nodded off to sleep, I went out to the waiting room to deliver the news. What I saw, as I rounded the vending machines and water fountains, was enough to stop me dead in my tracks.

The room was bright and packed. On one side, grouped around the Emergency Room door, was at least half of our class, all in dresses and tuxedos, leaning against the walls and sitting on the cheap plastic sofas. There were Ginny Tabor and Brett Hershey, girls from our Commercial Design class and their dates, Melissa Ringley and even Maryann Lister, plus tons of people I didn't even know. All in their finest, eating candy bars and talking, waiting for news. I didn't see Elizabeth Gunderson, but I did see Macon, leaning against the candy machine and talking to Cameron, who had finally gotten some color back in his face.

And on the other side of the waiting room, segregated by some chairs and modern time, were Vlad, a breathless Marion, and at least twenty other warriors and maidens, all decked out in full medieval regalia. Some were carrying swords and shields. One was even wearing chain mail that clanked as he paced back in forth in front of Admitting.

Then, all at once, they saw me.

Marion ran across the room, dress swishing madly across her feet, with Vlad and a handful of warriors right behind. The nurse at Admitting just rolled her eyes as I passed, with Marion approaching from one side and Cameron and Ginny Tabor fast closing in on the other, Ginny in her shrieking pink followed by a slew of girls in pastels and boys in tuxes, all crowding in. Everyone else had stopped talking, rising from their seats and gathering closer, watching my face.

“So?” Ginny said, skidding to a stop in front of me.

“How is she?” Marion asked. “I just got here, I was late getting home—”

“Is she okay?” Cameron said. “Is she?”

“She's fine,” I said, and I smiled at him. I turned to the assembled crowd, the prom-goers and Cinderellas, the maidens and ladies and warriors and knights, not to mention the odd Boy Scout and security guard, all carefully keeping their distance. “It's a girl.”