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“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” said the voice before footsteps retreated and the door slid closed.
Analise shifted to find a better position. One where her brain wouldn’t seep out of her ears. She assumed she was alone, but her eyes met his. “You’re still here?” she whispered to Taylor.
He gauged her, and, though it was dark, she didn’t miss his deep worry. “You should go,” she said. “I’m not mad at you. It was my fault. I should’ve paid more attention.”
“What if you end up a vegetable?”
“I’m sure my mother will come after you.” She managed a tiny smirk.
The door opened, and a woman spitting Swedish curse words hustled through.
Ulla was a tall waif of wiry muscle underneath her coveralls. Her light blonde hair was knotted in a bun. She touched Analise’s forehead as if testing a fever. “You got kicked in the head by a soccer player?”
“No, a soccer ball.”
“Who’s the idiot with no aim?”
“Me,” croaked Taylor.
Ulla startled. She sized up Taylor. First with narrowed eyes, then with a spark of something Analise couldn’t decipher.
“What’s your name?” she demanded of Taylor.
Taylor swallowed, held out a hand, and then dropped it. “Taylor.”
“Taylor—what.”
He shot a pleading look to Analise. “It was an accident, really, I had too much spin on the ball—”
“Last name?” Ulla flapped her hand, annoyed. “Where are your parents?”
“It’s Barnes, I don’t know, I don’t have my phone with—”
“Barnes. You said, Barnes.”
Even in the dark, Analise caught Ulla’s eyes draining, the pause of her breath.
The door opened and the lights flipped on. She was lost in her pain again. Someone clicked the brake release on the hospital bed, ready to wheel her. Analise bypassed the look of Taylor’s unease for that of Ulla’s preoccupation with Taylor. Hostility might be a stretch, yet nothing else came to mind when describing what Ulla was aiming at him.
Chapter Thirty
Analise
When Analise returned from imaging, Taylor was gone, and she was surprised at her disappointment. She listened to the nurse give instructions to Ulla. “She might have headaches, light sensitivity, trouble concentrating, and no physical activity until she can tolerate school. She might get nauseated, or this could all go away, but no one knows when. Alternate between Tylenol and Ibuprofen for pain . . . ”
On the way home, Ulla asked how Analise knew Taylor Barnes.
“We had homeroom together once, I think.”
Ulla opened her mouth and clamped it. “You go to the same school?”
“Duh,” Analise replied.
“Are you friends with him?”
“No. Seriously, do not sue the school. Or his rich parents.”
Ulla tightened her mouth and said, “Believe me, I won’t.”
