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Then she did something she never imagined herself doing. She channeled her mother.
“You! You help him do CPR. Switch out with him.” She grabbed the nearest woman who looked like she had any muscle.
She ran to the side of the stage and took the stairs two at a time. Vandy grabbed the microphone away from a woman dressed as Dorothy who had stopped singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow during the commotion.
“Anyone with an EpiPen immediately report to the front tables. This is an emergency. Repeat. Anyone with an EpiPen. We need an EpiPen now. Report to the front tables.”
She repeated that four more times before running back down to the floor. More people were gathering so she had to shove her way through them. It took her what felt like an infinitely long time to reach the center.
She got there in time to see Royce stab the woman’s leg with what she assumed must be an EpiPen. Three pens sat next to him, so her message must have worked.
The crowd murmured expectantly, and nothing happened.
She dropped onto her knees next to him. “How we doing?”
“No pulse. No shock,” he said, face bleak and frustrated. “Where the hell is a Medic? If it’s my fucking station being late again, I’ll be pissed.”
She picked up another EpiPen and handed it to him. “Use another one.”
“Another one?” he asked.
“What’s it going to do—kill her twice?”
He jammed the second pen into a different leg.
Tense seconds passed, and the woman made a gasping noise.
“She’s alive!” Vandy yelled.
Then they heard the sirens in the distance. Their patient was breathing easily with her color much improved by the time the ambulance arrived. Royce stayed by the woman’s side the whole time. He explained the situation to the two business-like women in paramedic uniforms. They said something to him that seemed to annoy him before they wheeled the patient off.
“You okay?” Vandy asked, having followed the group out to the ambulance.
“Yeah, it’s fine. They reminded me I should’ve checked for the medical alert bracelet sooner.”
“Well, they are paramedics. They probably have more experience or something.”
“They called me out for skipping the steps. The ABCDE’s of basic life-saving skills. I never checked her airway until you did. Then I waited too long for Disability and Exposure.” Royce watched them pull away, his eyes hooded.
“So, you study. You have the books for it.”
He spun to face her. “What do you mean by that?”
“If you were unprepared, you should study.”
“You think I don’t study?” Royce sounded odd.
“The books had dust on them. Your firehouse doesn’t seem the best run one either, so you aren’t exactly challenging yourself.” Vandy heard the words coming out of her mouth but would have sworn she heard her mother.
“You don’t know anything about what I do,” his voice cracked with unfamiliar anger.
She sputtered back, “It’s not that big of a deal. Just study. Or take another class, or apply yourself better. Being a lieutenant might be a good idea.”
“Oh, you’re giving ME career advice? Let me give some back then. Tell your parents you don’t want to be an accountant!”
“What does this have to do with me?” she said, stunned by his reaction.
“Vandy, if we’re going to talk about the real world, then I’ve heard you mention loving numbers and loving being an accountant zero times. I have heard you whine about your parents and celebrate not having them lord over every minute of your free time.”
