Risk and Rebel

4: AFTERMATH

Had I not been so completely disoriented after the crash, I probably would've put up more of a fight when Mickey was whisked away on a gurney, into an ambulance that drove off as fast as its wheels would carry it.

As it was I was having a hard time not throwing up again while the paramedics that remained examined me.

And every time I caught a glimpse of Mickey's now completely wrecked Charger, the need to puke again seemed to intensify.

"Follow the light," a short, broad-shouldered black woman commanded, drawing my attention away from the car. Despite the sturdiness of her voice, I could see the sympathy on her face before I forced my eyes to do as she'd requested.

In a few seconds, she clicked the light off and pocketed it, before continuing her examination. I remained the most quiet I could ever remember being in my life as she worked, occasionally asking me to do something like wiggle my fingers or move my legs. She was done soon, and as she began to speak, I could see my Civic pulling up to the scene.

"You got lucky, kid," the woman informed me as I watched my mother approaching us. She had been alone in the car, which meant my brothers were still at their friend's birthday party. "You've got a few scrapes on your arms, and you'll likely bruise in more places than you'd care to count, but nothing else appears to be wrong with you. You've got no concussion, your lungs are working fine ... you haven't lost hardly any blood ..." she said, though I could feel her eyeing my jersey.

What had been pristine white was now stained maroon with blood. Not mine though, as she'd already pointed out — Mickey's.

"You're probably going to want to repeat all of this to my mother," I eventually found it in myself to say, right before my mom was allowed through the barricade of police officers.

The woman followed my line of sight and nodded immediately, stepping to the side so Mom could embrace me. I could see the tears in her eyes; hear them in her voice as she repeatedly asked, "Are you okay? Are you? Oh, Jason ..." she seemed to be holding back sobs, and I let her hug me for a moment before pointing at the woman who examined me.

"Miss, um," I started to say, before the paramedic interrupted me.

"Gertrude," she supplied.

"Miss Gertrude says I'm fine, Mom," I said, nodding once in thanks.

"As fine as one can be after a crash like that," Gertrude nodded in agreement when my mother turned her watery green eyes toward her. "No broken bones, no head trauma; just a few scrapes and bruises."

Mom swung her attention back to me in an instant, green eyes still glistening with ill-suppressed tears, but her expression had changed. She nodded slowly, and I watched her breathe unsteadily for a moment. "Ma'am," she said, turning back to Gertrude, "where did they take Mickey?"

Just hearing her name made my heart seize up, and I watched Gertrude anxiously for an answer. It wasn't she who answered though, but another paramedic; the man who had checked my breathing. "They took her to St. Josephine's, ma'am," he piped up. His gaze didn't remain on Mom for long. "But I don't think your son should leave the scene quite yet ..." he trailed off, nodding in the direction of an approaching duo of cops.

I frowned at that, irritation welling up within me. Mickey was in a hospital, I had no idea what condition she was in, and I was supposed to stick around and talk to cops?

As far as I was concerned, that was a waste of my time, but I didn't get to voice that thought before the cops were on us. They addressed my mother first. "Ma'am," the tall, blond haired one said, "I presume you are Miss Naomi Thomas?" he asked. "I'm Officer Blake, I spoke to you on the phone."

Mom nodded in recognition. "Yes, and I thank you for that, Officer," she said with much more calm than I had expected.

"It was my pleasure." Blake smiled somewhat. "This is Officer Wilson," he proceeded, gesturing to the shorter man with thick curly hair. Blake turned hazel eyes to me. "And you're Jason, correct?"

Knowing full well I wouldn't be able to keep my annoyed comments to myself, I bit my tongue and nodded.

It was Wilson who nodded in response. "We just have a few questions to ask. We already went through all of the other witnesses; most of them are actually going to give us in-depth statements down at the station."

"I didn't see anything," I said in a flat voice before either of them could speak again. "I was texting Mickey's mom. If you can find the phone," I said, eyes cutting toward the Charger, "then you can confirm that."

Wilson and Blake exchanged a look, likely sensing my apprehension. "I understand you want to rush off to see your friend, son, but if we're going to be thorough, we have to talk to you."

Mom gripped my arm then and gave me a look that asked me not to lose my temper. I sucked down a deep breath and closed my eyes, counting to five before I spoke, eyes still closed. "Fine. Go ahead."

"Did you see the vehicle that hit you before it drove off?"

My eyes snapped open at that. Before now, I hadn't even realized the Charger was the only car on the scene. I glanced around for a split second before shaking my head. "No, I didn't. I felt the impact, though. Like I said, I was texting."

"Was, ah ... Mickey texting?" Blake asked as Wilson scribbled things down.

My eyes darkened as I scowled. "Given I was texting on her phone? No. I'd say she wasn't."

Blake nodded. "For all intents and purposes this appears to be a hit and run," he explained to me. "Now, given the time of day, I find it unlikely that the driver of the vehicle that hit you was drunk. They could've been texting, or any myriad of other things that meant they just weren't paying attention ... but," he forced a grim smile to his face, "I still need to ask you if you know anyone who owns what witnesses have described as a green truck."

My brow furrowed. It didn't take long to figure out why he needed to ask me that. In case this hadn't been an accident. In case someone had done this on purpose. Still, I shook my head honestly. "No. I don't."

"All right," Blake nodded. "Those are all the questions we have for you for now. If anything else comes up," he turned his attention to Mom, "I'll give you a call, ma'am."

"Thank you," my mother said with a polite nod. "Come on, Jason." She urged me off the back of the ambulance toward the Civic. I didn't have to ask to know we were going to see Mickey now ... even if it meant just sitting in a waiting room.

Mom paused to look back to Gertrude. "Could you please call them and tell them we will be arriving soon?"

"Absolutely," Gertrude smiled kindly.

Those were the last words my mother or I spoke until we reached the hospital.