EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO
NEW YEAR’S EVE
New Year’s Eveand I was alone in my room, halfway throughTo Kill a Mockingbirdfor freshman honors English. I glanced out the window and across the street. The light in Rory’s room was on. That was odd. I thought he was at a party at Jessica Sharma’s house. Jessica was the most popular girl of Rory’s sophomore class, and rumor had it she was throwing a New Year’s Eve party for fifty people. Invitations were highly coveted. I hadn’t been one of the lucky fifty, but even if I had been invited, I wouldn’t have been able to go. Tonight I had to stay home because my parents had gone with Mr.and Mrs.Shaw to a New Year’s Eve party in Green Lake, and my parents had paid me to babysit Daphne. She was now sound asleep in her room across the hall, and I was regretting agreeing to watch her tonight.
I’d invited Ashley over to watch the ball drop, but she’d called this morning to tell me she had the stomach flu. So here I was, on track to have the most boring New Year’s Eve on record. I squinted through the window, trying to see if I could spot Rory across the street. No movement. Maybe he’d just left the light on by accident.
I sighed in disappointment and turned back to my chapter, keepingone eye on Rory’s window. After the Shaws had moved in across the street the previous year, our mothers quickly became great friends, and Rory and I found ourselves together pretty often. Most Mondays, the only day the diner was closed, the Shaws came over for a game night. While the adults played poker in the dining room and drank beer and dirty martinis, Rory and I would watch a movie in the den. Rory loved our old basset hound, Myrtle, and he was good with Daphne, who was still a toddler. She would crawl all over him, poking her fingers into his ears and nostrils, and he’d carry her around on his back like a horse.
We were not best friends. I had Ashley for that, and Rory had a couple of good guy pals from the high school soccer team, but we were friendly. Rory was a year ahead of me in school, but he always made a point to greet me if he saw me in the hall between classes. We didn’t hang out together outside the Monday-evening game nights, but I felt happier knowing he was across the street. I never felt on edge with Rory. He made me feel at ease in my own skin. When he was around, the world was just right somehow.
I sighed again and checked the clock. After eleven. My stomach rumbled and I hopped out of bed. Time for a little night snack. Maybe I would turn the TV on and watch the ball drop, although it would feel sad to do it alone. I padded softly down the stairs, careful not to rouse Daphne. Myrtle snuffled hopefully at my heels. She was a consummate beggar.
Flipping on the light in the kitchen, I grabbed a plate and shook a handful of Triscuits out of the box. I dropped a Triscuit for Myrtle, who looked dolefully at me and wagged her tail. She was hoping for cheese.
“No cheese tonight, girl,” I told her, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. I started to slice it, using the good paring knife my dad sharpened every month. Chop. Chop. Cut out the core. I hummed as I worked, a peppy rendition of “Auld Lang Syne.” Just as I cored the lastapple segment, Myrtle bumped my leg with her low-slung, tubby body. The knife slid through the center of the apple and sliced hard across the pad of my thumb.
I gave a low, strangled gasp and dropped the apple and the knife, clutching my hand. Blood welled up instantly from the wound, glistening deep red, running down my wrist onto the counter. Oh, this was bad. Feeling a little faint, I tried to think. My heart was pounding and my head felt light. The pain was sharp. Myrtle, sensing something was amiss, woofed, staring up at me in puzzled concern.
“Oh no-no-no. Oh, girl, what are we going to do?” I grabbed a dish towel and wrapped it around my injured hand, then clumsily picked up the phone and called the Stewarts’ house, where my parents were at the party. No one picked up. Ashley’s whole family was down with the stomach flu and couldn’t come help me. I chewed my lip, panicking just a little. I didn’t think it was bad enough to call 911, but even if I did need a doctor’s care, I couldn’t leave Daphne here alone. Nor could I imagine taking her in an ambulance. She’d be terrified. I hesitated for only a minute and then called the Shaws’ house, praying that Rory really was home. My heart was racing and I felt a little dizzy.
He picked up after two rings. “Hello?”
The relief was instantaneous at the sound of his voice. “Rory, it’s Lolly. I just cut my hand and it’s bleeding a lot.” Suddenly I started to cry. “Can you come over?”
He came immediately. His hair was wet from the shower, dark copper strands curling damply over his ears, and he was in a soccer T-shirt and a faded pair of sweatpants with a hole in one knee. I met him at the door, holding my injured hand above my head. I thought I’d heard you should do that when you were bleeding. Myrtle wagged her tail when she saw Rory, then whined softly, unsure what was happening.
“How bad is it?” he asked in concern, kicking off his running shoesand eyeing my hand. Spots of blood were seeping through the dish towel. It looked gruesome.
I grimaced. “I don’t know. I didn’t really see the cut. I was sort of in shock.”
Rory frowned. “Do you want me to drive you to the ER? I’m supposed to have an adult with me, but since it’s an emergency...” He watched me earnestly. He was fifteen now and had his learner’s permit.
I hesitated, then shook my head, holding my injured hand high in the air as if raising my hand to answer a question in class, trying to keep calm and think clearly. “I’m not sure it’s that bad. I hope not. I already tried to call my parents. They didn’t answer. Daphne’s asleep upstairs and I just don’t know what to do.” I teared up a little again. My thumb was hurting a lot.
“Let’s take a look at it and see how bad it is,” Rory suggested calmly.
I nodded and sniffled. “Okay.”
He took me by the elbow and carefully led me to the sink in the kitchen, gingerly unwrapping the dish towel. I squeezed my eyes shut as he assessed the wound.
“Oh, ouch,” he murmured. I opened one eye a crack. I’d sliced a segment the size of a dime out of the pad of my thumb. It was just an open wound and still bleeding profusely.
“How bad is it?” I whispered. “Do I need stitches?”
Rory surveyed the wound. He’d taken a first aid course that fall, and I knew he was interested in becoming a doctor of some sort. “It’s bleeding a lot, but I don’t think stitches are going to help. There’s nothing to stitch. The skin is gone. We need to clean it and apply pressure and see if we can stop the bleeding.”
“Okay,” I said faintly, relieved that he so capably seemed to know what to do.
“Here, sit down.” He grabbed a chair and helped me sit, my arm still over the sink, dripping blood into the drain. “Where’s your first aidkit?” He spoke in the same measured, calm tone, which in turn made me feel calmer.
“Upstairs bathroom,” I mumbled. I was feeling a little faint all of a sudden and sick to my stomach, my vision going dark around the edges. I leaned my head against the edge of the sink while he went to get the kit and closed my eyes.
“Lolly, are you okay?” Rory was suddenly there at my side, leaning over me, peering intently into my face. He had his hand on my shoulder, steadying me.
I nodded. “I think so. It just hurts a lot.”
“I’m going to bandage the wound, okay?” Rory instructed. “Just lean against me if you need to.”
