CHAPTER 17: Sideshow Accidents

Sunlight's a bitch.

My mouth was dry, my head was pounding and my back was aching like it was run over by a bulldozer mid-sleep. The worst thing about it was that I wasn't in my room. Which meant there were no glasses of water, no Aspirins, no pillows, no blankets. No Emma.

I shot up to sit, despite the constant hammering in my skull. The morning sun was peaking between the hills over the fairgrounds. Flurries filled the empty space above.

It would have been a great view if it didn't fucking blind me!

I recounted the fragments of memories I had from last night. The food, the booze, the bread, the kiss.

Emma was no longer around. She did leave her canvas from last night. Just a few steps away from me were a Billie's Pizzeria menu and a chewed-up pencil. I smiled as I recalled the ridiculousness of our makeshift art class last night.

Then, I remembered why I made Emma draw me. Slowly, I picked the menu up. I studied the meals for a while, clearly delaying the sight of Emma's artwork. Billie's offered unlimited mozzarella sticks with every $99 purchase.

I exhaled. It's time to know whether it was Emma or not. I flipped the menu over. My eyes widened at the sight. For a moment, I was completely stunned. I took it all in. And, I laughed.

There was no drawing, only words. Emma wrote: "I don't really know how to draw. I just wanted to spend more time with you." A smiley face was scribbled on the bottom.

"Emma," I murmured , smiling but I didn't know what for. I folded the paper and pocketed it.

Stuffing the paper in, I fished my phone out, mainly to call her but also to check what time it was. The moment I unlocked the phone, it started to vibrate. How coincidental.

But, it wasn't Emma. It was Sage.

"Hello?" I greeted.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!" And there goes my eardrum.

"At home," I lied, nursing my throbbing head.

"It's Sunday!" she yelled and I took it as a lesson to hold the phone away from my ear.

"And?" I said and there followed a long pause.

"You forgot, didn't you?"

Forgot what? Let's see. Sunday... What happens on Sunday? "Church?" I tentatively asked.

"No, dumbass!" she screeched. "The theater! You said you were gonna help out!"

"Right, right! What time should I go there?"

"Get your ass ready and go there now! It opens in less than half an hour away and I want to see my cousin's bike, shiny and unscratched, parked outside when I get there, got it?!" she rambled and shouted the last phrase.

She didn't even give me the time to answer. She cut the line before "aye, aye" could come out of my mouth.

"Sheesh," I commented, just staring at the phone.

It was thirty minutes to nine. Knowing I couldn't rush home to take a shower and dress up even if some sort of miracle happened, I just opted to find my shoes, get the bike and cruise up to the theater to help out.

It seemed like an easy plan, but as I was picking up Emma's chewed-on pencil, the plan got shattered.

"You, there!" a heavily accented voice yelled. A man, in a grey suede suit, was lumbering down to the gazebo with two beefier men following behind him. "You are trespassing on Familia Navarro's private property!"

In that moment of panic when my eyes darted everywhere for a route of escape, I noticed that they came from a huge mansion just a few feet away from where I was.

How did Emma and I not notice that house last night?

No time for stupid questions. The guys were beginning to pace up when they saw me turn to make a run for it.

Screw the plan. I don't need my shoes, I thought to myself as I blazed out of the gazebo. I'm no high jump champion but I realized I could be when I jumped over the fence surrounding the villa.

"Come back here!" the man stupidly ordered as he and his cronies stopped behind the fence.

When has that command ever worked? Do they think that people like me are gonna hear them say that think, Oh, this man told me to come back. Whelp, better do what he says or else...

I carried on running with knitted socks striding over snow.

When I got to the motorcycle, I was panting and my feet were freezing but I was relieved to know that I wouldn't be charged with trespassing. After all, they can't sue you if they can't find you.

This time, I remembered to turn the key in the ignition. Emma wasn't there to drive us anymore, so I had to be the man of the situation. With very little help from Sage's words of wisdom on how to ride a motorcycle, I slowly - and ungracefully - drove out of the trailer park.

There were a few instances when I wobbled, but by the grace of God, I managed to get back into the city without inflicting a few scratches on the bike.

I carefully made a turn down by 86th street. If I remember correctly, there was a shortcut to the theater. I had to run by it a couple of times when I had to go to Lally's recitals because dad couldn't come. The path stretched between two private lots, and the road had a few cracks but I believed I could handle the semi-rough road.

I entered the shortcut and revved up a bit when I saw nobody was taking the same road. Nobody, except for a lameass idiot with a ridiculous backpack shaped like Gumball Waterson's face. Her hoodie also had one lonely cat ear on it. To add to the absurdity of her outfit, she was also on rollerblades. What a lameass!

Wait a minute. That's my lameass friend! It's Sage!

I honked to get her attention and cruised up next to her. She turned, I asked, "Need a lift?"

I stretched out my hand to her and she took it. I slowed down a bit, not wanting to give her a whiplash as I dragged her along. It was just like that day when we escaped the guys she hustled, except this time, I dragged her around while riding on a motorcycle. I'd say that's one heck of an improvement.

Sage did curves and zigzags beside me, not letting go of my hand once. She was really enjoying the ride. "Not a scratch on sight," she commented with a nod. "Impressive, Jettison."

"Told ya I could handle a bike, Dewirth," I replied.

"Yeah, yeah," she agreed dismissively. "Go faster!"

I did as she said. Sage tightened her grip on my hand and leaned forward to steady herself. She let out a happy whoop-whoop as we cruised out of the shortcut and into the streets.

"How was Emma?" she queried.

"Man, you would not beli-"

"AAAHHH!" Her panicked scream cut me off.

In a daze, Sage's grip on my hand loosened and her hand slipped out of mine. She disappeared out of my sight, falling back. I did my best to keep my calm and not crash the stupid bike. I did not learn to ride a motorcycle this morning just to crash minutes later.

I skidded to a stop and parked the bike on the sidewalk. I took my helmet off, set it on the handle and ran back to Sage. She was huddled in the middle of the street, the wheels of her rollerblades were caught on a drainage outlet.

"Oh, shit!" I exclaimed as I ran up to her.

I could see blood spilling out of her ripped leggings. Ripped leggings over ripped skin. My vision started to blur and my brain turned into mush.

"Are you okay?" I asked, out of breath. "Nope, you're not okay. You're injured. Blood. There's blood. Oh, boy. Hospital. 911. Okay, I'll call 911."

"Trevor!" she yelled, shaking me out of my confusion.

I got a hold of myself and looked at her face. Yeah, just keep looking at her face. Not her leg. Not her bleeding -

"Trevor!"

"Yes? Yes?" I quickly snapped out of it. I decided to focus on her eyes. They were blue.

"I'm okay," she soothed me. This is all mixed up. I should be the one soothing her. She just fell again!

"Dewirth, I swear, accidents follow you everywhere! You are a freaking wreck-magnet!" I exasperated, helping her get her foot free.

"I'd argue with you but I think I need to go to the hospital right now," she said, groaning as she moved her leg.

"Okay, okay," I said. "Can you ride on the bike?"

She shook her head.

"Well, the hospital's two blocks away. Can you walk?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Come on. Help me up."

I assisted her to stand but the moment I loosened my grip on her, she drooped. "Nope, you can't walk," I stated the obvious.

Sage whimpered on my shoulder. "How am I gonna get to rehearsals?"

I looked at her like she hit her head during that fall. "I think the more appropriate question now is: how am I gonna get to the hospital?"

She glared at me.

I sighed. "Come on," I said, bending down to scoop her up in my arms. She leaped away, wincing.

"What are you doing?" she questioned.

"Helping you?" I said. "Look, you can't walk, you can't ride. Unless you want to bleed to death here on the sidewalk, you are very much welcome to hitch a ride in my arms."

She scoffed and even added in a fake laugh. "And get teased about my weight again? I'd rather bleed, thank you." She stubbornly sat back down on the sidewalk.

My jaw dropped. That's what this is about? Geez, girls do hold grudges longer than the seal to Tutankhamen's tomb remained unbroken. "Are you serious?"

She ignored me.

"Sage, this is serious. You could get some sort of infection or something." Still, she ignored me. "Oh, my God! You're being such a girl!"

Her head whipped to face me. "Shut up, and let me bleed in peace."

I facepalmed. She was being unreasonable! "Look," I started, "I'm sorry I made fun of your weight. You're not that heavy. I can carry you to the hospital. And I promise I won't make fun of you."

"You won't?"

I shook my head and crossed my heart. Finally, she let me carry her. Yes, she was heavy, but my conscience was singing that one Beatle's song: 'Boy, you gotta carry that weight, carry that weight...' After all, it was sorta my fault that she's bleeding.

We got through one block until I felt like my back was going to snap. Not because she was that heavy, because I actually had a bad back. That one was all on me.

"You got this?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," I answered, to motivate myself into not dropping her back on the sidewalk. I carry Lally all the time when she falls asleep on the couch, I couldn't understand why this one was giving me such a hard time. Well, to be fair, it felt like I was carrying three Lallys in one.

We got to the hospital and never had I been so happy to put someone on a stretcher. The doctors fixed Sage up while I stayed in the waiting area, not sure of what to do. Finally, Sage came out on a wheelchair with her leg all bandaged up.

I was left with the task of keeping her still. "Don't let her walk no matter what," the doctor stressed, passing the wheelchair handles to me.

The whole thing meant that I was the one left with the responsibility of wheeling her around to wherever she wanted to go. And after half an hour of aimlessly pushing her around the hospital, I got the clue that she didn't really want to go anywhere.

"You're just doing this to get even with me, aren't you?" I asked.

"What gave you that idea?" she deadpanned.

I sighed. Thought so. "Look, I've been pushing you around for half an hour. You got your revenge. My arms are getting tired. My legs are getting tired -"

"Is your mouth getting tired, too?"

"Come on, Dewirth!"

She chuckled. "Just wheel me to Room 3-A."

Begrudgingly, I did what I was told. When we got to the A-Wing of the hospital, one of the staff stopped us.

"Visitor's Pass?" he said.

Sage reached into her ridiculous backpack and fished out a plastic card. The guy examined it, then nodded.

"What are we doing here?" I questioned as we stopped at the door of Room 3-A.

Sage turned back at me with a shit-eating grin. "Guess who's in there."

I narrowed my eyes. Room 3-A of Westmont Memorial Hospital. Who on earth could be in there?

"Your grandma?" I guessed.

Her shit-eating grin was swapped with a facepalm. "God, I forgot you're a dumbass." she grumbled in her palm. She let her hand down and glared at me. "Kaye! Kaye's in there."

Oh... "Fuck," I breathed out.

"Uh, you're welcome?" she said, expectantly.

"No," I quickly said. "I -uhm, I don't know what to say to her."

"You don't have to bring the whole diary thing up. Just talk to her," she pointed out. "Ask how she's feeling. Stuff like that. I swear, if you ask if you took her virginity, I will take this wheelchair and shove it up your ass."

"Okay, okay!" I said with my arms up. There's no doubt in my mind that she would have done it.

"Good," she said. She was reaching for the doorknob when my phone started to ring.

I fished it out of my pocket. Emma's name illuminated the screen. "I gotta take this," I told Sage and stepped aside.

"Hey, Picasso!" I greeted playfully.

She chuckled. It sounded tired, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "Hey, jerk."

"Where'd you go this morning? I didn't get to appraise your artwork."

"That's the thing," Emma said with a sigh. "There's been an emergency. Will you go to Del Rio Street?"

"That's on the Southside of the city."

I've mentioned this before. I'm not real fond of Southies. If they're not dissing you for no reason at all, they're probably mugging you. They're real violent people. Emma doesn't even possess half of that kind of violence. And that's saying a lot!

"I'm just asking if you will-"

"Of course, I will!" I cut her off. "When should I go there?"

"Uh, now."

"Now?" I questioned, looking back at Sage, still in front of the unopened door that led to the only other suspect of my mystery search.

"Yeah. So, will you?"

I turned back to Sage who was expecting me to go back and enter Kaye Montgomery's room. On the phone, there was Emma, expecting an answer.

Emma or Kaye?

I named a street after my crush! How ridiculous is that?! Bwahaha! She has a Wattpad account, too. Here's to hoping she'll never find out.