My heart does that thing I don’t know what to do with, like it recognizes her before my brain does. Her phone continues to buzz against her chest, screen light reflecting off her jaw, then dark, then light again.SIMONEflashes and disappears, flashes again.
“Lydia,” I murmur, kneeling down next to her. I touch her shoulder, and she shifts easily, like she’s passed out cold. “Hey, you good?”
No stir. No annoyed swat. Nothing. I nudge a little harder. She’s loose in a way that isn’t just sleep.
The memories flash quickly in my head and drag me backwards in time, standing in my sister’s bedroom doorway, my screams, Isabel’s lifeless body. The world is hazy for a second like I’m actually back there, and then I pull myself back into the present moment. Whatever is happening now. It’s notthat…can’t be—
I shift slightly, and my leg bumps something. I look down to see a pill bottle on the carpet next to my knee. Unlabeled. Open. Empty.
“Erik!” The word tears out of me before I’m all the way standing back up. “ERIK!”
I force my eyes back to her face.
Focus. Check the basics. Wrist. Pulse. Come on.
There. It’s there, faint under my fingers. Barely, though.
“Lydia, hey. Stay with me.Please.”
Erik sprints in. He sees my face before he sees her, and it scares him. “What—”
“I think she might have OD’d,” I snap. “She barely has a pulse. Call 9-1-1!”
“Okay,okay, what do I—”
“Tell them we have a possible overdose on campus, female, early twenties, barely responsive. Give them the dorm address. Ask if they have Narcan…and see if the RA desk has naloxone in the AED kit.”
“On it.” He fumbles his phone in a panic and then gets it.
I press two fingers under Lydia’s jaw again. Still there. Still faint. I tip her chin and ease her onto her side in case she vomits. She’s limp and hard to move but I manage to get her into a better position. The phone is still vibrating against my arm.SIMONEagain.
I answer with my shoulder while my hands keep working. “Hello?”
“Lydia?” The voice is already crying. “Lydia, please—hello?”
“Hey—this is Bash,” I say. “I—I found Lydia in my dorm’s community room. I think she overdosed.”
A broken sound. “Is she—” She doesn’t finish. Can’t say it.
“No. No, she’s…she’s not good, but she’s here. Pulse is really faint. We called 911. I’m taking her outside so the EMTs can get to her faster.”
“What building?” she asks, breathless and panicking. “Tell me where—”
I tell her, and she hangs up before I can say anything else.
“EMS is five out,” Erik says nervously. “RA is checking the AED. They think they have something, but they’re kinda freaking out. Said they’ll meet us outside.”
“Good.” My hands slide under Lydia’s shoulders and knees. “Help me.”
He moves a couple of boxes out of my path as I lift her. She’s so light it scares me. Her head falls against my chest. Her hair smells like shampoo and weed. The phone in my pocket buzzes again, but I just keep moving. The community room door bangs open as I rush out into the hallway.
A couple of students freeze by the front door, eyes wide. Sinking to my knees on the concrete, I set her down gently, propping her on her side again against my thigh. She looks peaceful in a way that makes me sick.
“Hey,” I say again, hoping the repetition can get into her consciousness. “Hey, stay with me. I’m right here.”
I’m talking to her, and talking to God at the same time. Somehow, that feels like the same thing right now.
Please. Don’t take her.
