Mike’s chair scraped back.

“Her face,” he said, voice rising in alarm. “Look at her face.”

Kate’s smile fell.

Dad’s brows knitted together.

Mom stood, suddenly not triumphant anymore. “Olivia?”

I reached for the table to steady myself, but my fingers slid on the glossy surface like my body didn’t know how to coordinate anymore. My legs went soft. The room spun faster.

The last thing I remember was the sound of Mike’s voice, sharp and urgent.

“Call 911! Now!”

Then everything went black.

 

Part 2

I woke up to bright lights and the steady beep of a monitor keeping time with my heart.

For a second I didn’t know where I was. The air smelled like antiseptic. My mouth was dry. My throat burned like I’d swallowed sandpaper. Something was taped to my arm, and when I tried to move, a tug reminded me there was an IV.

Mike sat beside my bed, elbows on his knees, staring at his hands like he’d been holding himself together by force. When he saw my eyes open, his whole face shifted into relief so intense it hurt to look at.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Hey, Liv.”

My voice came out as a whisper. “What… happened?”