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She hears a whisper in her ear as she struggles to see clearly. “You okay, Hannagan?” Cabel slips his arm around her. He sounds worried. “You’re shivering. Did you just have a seizure or something? You want me to stop the bus?”
Janie looks at him. “Oh, hey.” Her voice is scratchy. “I didn’t know you were there. Um . . . ” She closes her eyes. Tries to think. Holds up a weak finger, letting him know she needs a moment. But she feels the next one coming already. She doesn’t have much time. And she has to prepare him. She doesn’t have a choice.
“Cabel. Do not freak if—when—I do that again, okay? Do NOT stop the bus. Do NOT tell a teacher, oh God, no. No matter what.” She grips the armrests and fights to keep her vision. “Can you trust me? Trust me and just let it happen?”
The pain of concentration is excruciating. She is cringing, holding her head. “Oh, fuckity-fuck!” she yells in a whisper. “This was a stupid, stupid idea for me to come on this trip. Please, Cabel. Help me. Don’t let . . . anyone . . . gah! . . . see me.”
Cabel is gawking at Janie. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Jesus.”
But she is gone.
The dreams pelt her, from all directions, without ceasing. Janie is on sensory overload. It’s her own physical, mental, emotional, three-hour nightmare.
7:48 a.m.
Janie opens her
eyes. Someone is talking on a microphone.
When the fog fades and she can see again, finally, Cabel is staring at her. His eyes, his hair, are wild. His face is white. He is holding her around the shoulders.
Gripping her, is more like it.
She feels like crying, and she does, a little. She closes her eyes and doesn’t move. Can’t move. The tears leak out. Cabel wipes her cheeks gently with his thumb.
That makes her cry harder.
8:15 a.m.
The bus stops. They are parked in a McDonald’s parking lot. Everyone files off the bus. Everyone except Janie and Cabel.
“Go get some food,” she urges in a tired whisper. Her voice is still not back.
“No.”
“Seriously. I’ll be okay, now that everyone’s . . . gone.”
“Janie.”
“Will you go and get me a breakfast sandwich then?” She’s still breathing hard. “I need to eat. Something. Anything. There’s money in my right-hand coat pocket.” The effort to move her arm seems too difficult.
Cabel looks at her. His eyes are weary. Bleary. He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his eyes. He sighs deeply. “You sure you’ll be okay? I’ll be back in five minutes or less.” He looks unwilling to leave her.
She smiles a tired half smile. “I’ll be fine. Please. I don’t think I can stand up if I don’t get something to eat soon. That was much, much worse than I expected.”
He hesitates, and then removes his arm from behind her shoulders. “I’ll be back.” He sprints off the bus. She watches him out the window. He runs through the empty drive-through lane and taps on the microphone. Janie smiles. What a dork.
He returns with a bag full of breakfast sandwiches, several orders of hash browns, coffee, orange juice, milk, and a chocolate shake. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” he says.
Janie struggles a little and sits up. She pours the juice down her throat and swallows until it’s gone. She does the same with the milk.
“Can you chug beer like that?”
She smiles, grateful he isn’t asking questions about her strange behavior. “I’ve never tried it with beer.”
“That’s probably wise.”
“Have you?” She takes a bite of a sandwich.
“I don’t really drink.”
“Not even a little, here and there?”
“Nope.”
She looks at him. “I thought you were a partier. Drugs?”
He hesitates a split second. “Nada.”
“Wow. Well, you sure looked like hell for a couple years.”
He is quiet. He smiles politely. “Thank you.” He nods at her sandwich.
“Sorry.”
He stares at the seat in front of them while she eats. She hands him a sandwich and he takes it, unwraps it, and eats it slowly. They sit in silence.
Janie belches loudly.
He looks at her. Grins. “Jesus, Hannagan. You should enter a contest.”
They share the chocolate shake.
8:35 a.m.
The other students board the bus in twos and threes. Some stand outside, sucking on cigarettes.
8:41 a.m.
The bus begins to move again.
“Now what?” asks Cabel. He has a look of concern around his eyes. He combs his hair with his fingers, and it feathers and falls again.
“If it happens again, don’t worry.” She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you—I promise I’ll explain this all when I can. Where are we, by the way?”
“We’re getting close.”
