"Enough talking and more writing!"
Fine, here you go!
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the phone. Then, there was an explosion of thundering footsteps, and Savannah yelled, “Dad! Dad! Leslie’s in the hospital!”
Leslie slapped herself in the forehead for her stupidity. “No, no, it’s not me. I’m not hurt,” she tried to tell Savannah. “I found someone.”
Savannah wasn’t listening. Leslie heard the low rumble of her father’s voice, then some scuffling sounds as Savannah handed him the phone.
“Leslie? Savannah said you’re at the hospital,” Mr. Matheson said.
“Yes, but I’m not hurt,” said Leslie, rubbing her sore forehead. “I found a guy on the beach—he’s about my age. He was out in the storm last night, and when the ambulance came I rode with them to the hospital in Moss.”
Mr. Matheson gave a long, pent-up sigh. In a calm, smooth voice he said, “I’m glad you’re okay. Do you want me to pick you up?”
“Um, yeah.” Leslie looked over at Gray. He was still asleep, his mouth hanging open. Something clenched her chest. “Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“Could you…bring some clothes, even just some sweatpants and a t-shirt? The guy I found hasn’t woken up yet. We don’t know who he is, or where he’s from, or if he has any family. He…he might need our help. And his clothes are pretty battered—he can’t go out like that.”
Mr. Matheson chuckled. “Ah, Leslie, you always think of others, don’t you? Okay, I’ll bring the clothes. Be there in a jiffy.”
Leslie hung up the phone and sunk into a chair next to Gray’s bed. Why did she want to help Gray so much? Was it because she found him and now she felt responsible for him? But she didn’t know anything about him. Wild thoughts raged through her brain. What if he’s a drug dealer, or a murderer? What if he’s part of some weird religious cult? His clothes are strange enough. What if I try to help him, and he steals everything I have and stabs me in the back? Or what if he kidnaps me?
Leslie’s mind froze. She could feel someone watching her. Slowly, she turned her head. Gray’s eyes were blinking blearily in her direction. Leslie blushed, as though Gray could hear all her thoughts about him.
“Who…who are you?” Gray’s voice slurred.
Leslie swiveled around in her seat. She stuck her hands between her knees. “I’m Leslie. I—I saved you.”
“You did?” Gray looked around at the white walls, the light blue curtains surrounding them, and the blinking computer monitors. “Where am I?”
“You’re in a hospital. You nearly died.”
“I did?” Gray moved to comb his fingers through his hair, but stopped. He stared at the I.V. line inserted into the back of his hand. Still clutching the wooden cylinder in his other hand, he fumbled with the needle, trying to pull it out.
Leslie jumped up and grabbed Gray’s hand. “Don’t do that! You need that I.V. It’s um…to be honest, I have no idea what’s in it. I just know you don’t go pulling I.V.s out.”
Gray looked at Leslie. His eyes were brown flaked with gold. His lips were still blue. He relaxed and lay back on his pillow, letting go of the I.V. needle. With his I.V.-laden hand, Gray reached up and touched his neck. “Where’s my soul binder?”
“Huh?”
“My soul binder…” Gray repeated, but before Leslie could ask for more clarification, his eyelids fluttered closed and he fell asleep.
Awkwardly, Leslie moved his arms back under the blanket. She sat with her chin in her hand, watching him, waiting for him to wake up again. A nurse came and went, checking on Gray’s I.V. and readjusting his blankets.
Leslie started to doze off when the blue curtains parted in a whirl of movement, startling her awake. Savannah stood clutching the curtains. She glared at Leslie. Then she rushed forward, flinging her arms around Leslie.
“You scared me so bad, you idiot!” wailed Savannah. Then she peered over her shoulder. “So that’s the guy?” Savannah let go of Leslie and approached Gray’s bed. She crouched and stared at his face, frowning.
“Yes,” said Leslie.
Mr. Matheson entered. He was tall, and Savannah had inherited her dark curls from him. He was in a business suit, and Leslie realized he had been getting ready to do a little weekend work when Savannah had called Leslie. He was accompanied by a Hispanic woman in a sharp suit dress, her long black hair cascading down her back. Mr. Matheson asked the woman, “What is going to happen to him?”
“We’ll have to wait until he wakes,” the woman said with a slight accent. “Then we’ll be able to ask him about his relatives. There’s been no missing persons reports filed for a boy named Gray, first or last name, matching his description.”
“Why wait?” asked Savannah. She poked Gray repeatedly in the shoulder.
“Don’t—” began Leslie, but it was too late. Gray stirred and opened his eyes.
“Ow…” he began. Then, he noticed all the staring faces and fell silent.
“Mr. Gray,” the Hispanic woman began, “my name is Angela Castillo. I’m with Social Services. I have a few questions for you.”
Gray just stared at her.
“First off, what is your full name?” Angela got out a small notepad and a pen.
“Gray.”
“Gray what?”
“Just Gray.”
Angela stared at Gray, nibbling the end of her pen. Leslie got out of her chair and whispered in Angela’s ear, “I think Gray might be part of one of those weird religious cults. He has weird clothes like that. So maybe he doesn’t have a last name.”
Angela nodded and wrote in her notebook. Leslie sat back down. Continuing, Angela asked, “And how old are you, Gray?”
“Seventeen.” Leslie sat up. That was only one year older than her.
Angela scribbled in her notebook. “And where are your parents, Gray?”
Gray remained silent, staring straight ahead. He clutched the wooden cylinder in both hands. Finally, slowly, he said, “They’re on the Other Side.”
Tears swam in Angela’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. How long have they been…on the Other Side?”
Gray looked at her. “How long have I been here?”
Leslie’s heart jumped into her throat. His parents had been with him in the storm, and he’d lost them. They were dead. Leslie swallowed a sob.
“You were found just today,” said Angela.
“So, just today,” said Gray.
Angela looked away. Once she had composed herself, she turned back to Gray. With a heightened air of professionalism, Angela Castillo asked, “Do you have any relatives we can contact?”
Gray shook his head. “No.”
Angela wrote furiously in her notebook. “Then you are considered a ward of the state. We will take care of your medical bills from today and look for adequate foster care until you reach the age of—”
“Excuse me,” Mr. Matheson interrupted. “May I talk to you outside for a moment?”
Angela’s head whipped towards Mr. Matheson. “Of course.”
Mr. Matheson and Angela left the room, the curtain swinging behind them. Leslie could hear the soft voices of other people speaking to their loved ones on the other side of the curtains. She turned back towards Gray. He was fast asleep, again.
“Wow,” said Savannah. “He sure falls asleep fast.”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “Give him a break, Savannah. He nearly died today, and he lost his parents.”
“Doesn’t seem very upset about that.” Savannah looked like she was tempted to poke him again, but instead walked over to a brown grocery sack sitting on a metal counter. “What’s in here?” she asked.
Leslie shrugged her shoulders. “Probably his clothes and stuff.”
Savannah stuck her hand in the paper sack and pulled out Gray’s shirt. She examined the brown-green fabric. “Weird. Hey, didn’t you say this was all torn up? It looks perfectly fine to me.”
Leslie came over and felt the fabric in between her fingers. It was smooth, almost like silk. Savannah was right—there were no tears or holes. There weren’t even any seams. Leslie pulled out the pants. Just like the shirt, it was in perfect condition and seamless.
Leslie peered into the bag. Gray’s moccasin-like shoes were still in there, as well as a leather-strap necklace with a black stone carved in the shape of an animal. Leslie reached her hand in to pull it out—
“Hey! Get it off! Getitoff getitoff getitoff!” screamed Savannah.
Leslie spun around. Savannah’s hand was inside the shirt. She shook the shirt, and the fabric flapped back and forth. Leslie grabbed a part of the shirt and tugged. It stayed in place for a moment, then suddenly slipped off Savannah’s arm.
Savannah stared at her hand, then at the shirt. “It grabbed me. I swear, that shirt grabbed me.”
“Nonsense,” said Leslie, but she hurriedly stuffed the shirt and pants back in the brown sack. “You just got tangled up in it, that’s all.”
A nurse burst into the room. “Is there anything wrong?”
“Yes,” said Savannah at the same time that Leslie said, “No.”
“No,” Leslie repeated. “My sister was just playing around and got tangled up in some cloth.”
The nurse pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Don’t touch anything. And don’t scream unless it’s an emergency. We have some real patients to take care of here.”
After the nurse left, some chuckling sounded from behind Leslie and Savannah. They turned. Gray was awake and was laughing at them. Savannah put her hands on her hips. “Well, so nice to see you’re feeling so chipper.”
Before Gray could respond, Mr. Matheson and Angela Castillo returned. “Well Gray,” said Angela, “it looks like you’ll be going home with the Mathesons for the time being. Greg Matheson has agreed to be your short-term foster father while we perform an investigation.”
Good job on researching the details! You did a integrated them well so I never thought, "Oh, so had to look that up."
ReplyDeleteYour writing is very visual. I could easily see everything that was happening as if I was watching a movie.
Hope you had as much fun writing this segment as I had reading it!