Ex-Factor (Diamond Girls) (28 page)

The police radio on the dash beeped, Officer Landry’s voice carrying though the small speaker. “We’re a go in sixty seconds. Remember: don’t get out until you hear the siren.”

An icy chill ripped through me. I faced Bodie with tears in my eyes and squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For everything. I couldn’t do this without you.”

He held my gaze, his expression mirroring my own, and nodded once. “I feel the same way, Doll Face. You’re my rock, baby. I love you.”

A police siren wailed from the large speakers surrounding the football field and the tarps covering the crash scene were torn away.

The tears started falling before I’d even made it all the way out of the car.

Bodie leaped from the driver’s side of the car and sprinted over to the mock crash with his cell phone plastered to his ear. His panicked voice blared over the speakers.

A dispatcher’s voice echoed over the field. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“You’ve gotta send officers quick! There’s been an accident—a crash!”

I rounded the witness vehicle and staggered over to the mangled Honda Civic nearest me. A large green SUV had T-boned the passenger side, crumpling its entire front end, while the Civic sat a few feet to away in a smashed heap of metal and glass.

The officers had positioned Erin so that the upper half of her body was hanging out the front of the windshield, face down, dripping with blood. I screamed, the hair on the back of my neck raising as I heard my voice over the speakers crying hysterically. This may have been a simulated accident, but the emotions I felt were all very real.

The two back passengers were bloodied and unmoving as well. The driver of the SUV, Tommy Doleman, sported a large gash at the top of his head and deep cut on his arm.

Another policeman pulled Tommy away from the vehicle after he’d staggered out and began questioning him. “My name is Officer Gentry. Can you tell me what happened here?”

Tommy did a great job portraying the drunk driver responsible for the crash. He staggered on his feet and shook his head as if dazed and confused. “I don’t know. There was another car. I think I hit it.”

My gaze darted to the SUV as the officer asked Tommy how much he’d had to drink. The girl in the passenger seat was screaming she couldn’t feel her legs.

I dropped to my knees and covered my mouth with my hands as several more police cars and emergency vehicles rounded the track and drove onto the field. The officers running the program had announced early on that although the crash was simulated, the response time was real. And God, it felt like it took an eternity for the paramedics to arrive.

Bodie knelt alongside me and pulled me into his chest as paramedics laid Erin’s seemingly lifeless body onto the grassy floor and covered it with a sheet. It took six firemen to cut the top off the Civic so they could remove the other two victims. The silence floating across the field was deafening, much like the panic whirling inside my head.

***

Sleep hadn’t come easy last night. And as I peered across the row of chairs sitting alongside the podium at the edge of the field, it was safe to assume none of the other participants or their parents had slept either.

Each of the six students involved in the mock crash had spent the night in a hotel along with their parents, school staff, and officers involved with the Every Fifteen Minutes program. They spent their night talking about every aspect of the simulation and writing letters to one another. One of which was about to be read out loud for the entire student body at Grant High to hear.

Erin stepped up to the podium, face pale, eyes bloodshot. She exhaled a heavy breath and stared out at the crowd before looking down at the letter she’d written her parents.

“Dear Mom and Dad,” Her voice broke and she slammed her lids shut, no doubt trying to hold back her tears. It took her a moment, but she was finally able to compose herself and started over. “Dear Mom and Dad, every fifteen minutes, someone in the United States dies from an alcohol-related accident. Today, I became part of that statistic. I didn’t get the chance to tell you, Mom and Dad, just how much I love and respect you. I raced out of the house like I normally do, running late and shouting a fast ‘see you later’ over my shoulder. It never occurred to me that I’d never see your faces again. That I’d never share another breakfast with you, never roll my eyes again at your sappy good morning song.

“There’s so much I want to thank you for but will never get the chance. Like all those times you drove me to dance class when you were worn out and tired from work. Or the time you spent the night in the emergency room with me after I’d broke my arm at cheer. Your love was unconditional and given without question, and for that I’ll be forever thankful.

“Not once, in my darkest dreams, did I ever think I’d leave this earth before either of you. And I want you to know how deeply sorry I am for placing that type of grief on you. Please know that I’m looking down on you from heaven, watching, waiting until we’re together again. I may not be with you physically, but I’m always with you in spirit. I love you, and always will. Your daughter, Erin.”

My chest ached as I watched Erin’s father quietly console her weeping mother. I itched to jump out of my seat, run over to her, and hug her. To tell her how lucky she was, how lucky she and her husband were to still have their daughter in their lives. I wanted to shake her hard, and tell her to make sure she remained an active part of Erin’s life, even when Erin made it difficult to do so. Every molecule in my body begged to plead with her, to make her understand just how short and precious this life we have is. I wanted to cram it into her head, into her father’s head that they needed to cherish one another, and to share their love for one another on a daily basis. Breathing was a gift every one of us took for granted. Nothing in this short life of ours was guaranteed, and as such, we needed to love on those most important to us whenever we could, and as often as we could.

Squinting beneath the glare of the gray clouds overhead, I stared out into the bleachers. It didn’t take long for me to locate my Aunt Trish and Livvie, and a quiet sob escaped my lips when they both mouthed a silent “I love you” in my direction. To say I loved them would be an understatement. Truthfully, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to accurately convey the depth of feeling I held for both of them. They’d taken me in when I was broken, held me when I cried, and loved me in spite of all that had happened. If only everyone was as lucky as me.

The rustle of hushed voices and whispers yanked me from my thoughts, and I turned my head to see Callie Porter limping across the grass toward the podium. A massive black brace covered her left leg, holding it straight, and she supported herself on a pair of crutches. A jagged pink gash ran just below her right eye, down her cheek, and disappeared behind the hair covering her ear.

Her voice cracked when she spoke. “Five months ago my life changed. I was on top of the world. I had everything—a nice car, decent grades, a pretty face, and a spot on a level five cheer squad.” The stony resolve she’d plastered onto her face cracked, and she broke, her expression twisting as tears streamed down her cheeks. “But then I did something that changed my life forever. I made a mistake I can’t undo. I got drunk. And if that wasn’t bad enough,” she puffed out a breath of air and shook her head, “I got behind the wheel of my car and drove.”

She cast me a sideways glance, her eyes filled with sadness and regret, then abruptly turned and addressed the crowd again. “I don’t remember anything from that night. Which, at times, I think is a blessing. I mean, who would want to remember almost hitting their teammate with their car? Who’d want to remember the pain and agony they must have felt when they drove into the path of an oncoming truck?”

She closed her eyes, pressed her lips together and shook her head. “They tell me I was in a coma for a week. When I woke up, the doctors told me I’d suffered a spinal injury and may never walk again. On top of that, I’d shattered my leg, broke several ribs, and suffered a devastating internal injury that changed my future forever.”

There was a long pause, and my heart broke as I watched her body shake with silent tears. She swept a long tendril of blond hair behind her ear and exhaled a rapid breath before breaking once more and crying openly into the microphone. “And then of course, there was the injury to my face. The scar will get better. Surgery will help with that, but—the damage to my eye is permanent. I’ll be blind in one eye for the rest of my life.”

Speaking of eyes, mine burned like crazy. It felt like someone had come at them with a handful of needles, I’d cried so much. Callie and I were about as far from friendly as two people could get, yet I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. I couldn’t stop myself from sharing her pain. No one deserved the type of pain she’d endured.

“My parents, my doctors, they all keep telling me how lucky I am. Lucky I can walk again. Lucky no one else was hurt that night.” She shook her head and frowned. “I don’t feel lucky. I don’t feel anything but loss.” A loud sob blew past her lips, and she swiped at the stream of black mascara trailing down her cheeks. “I’ll never tumble again. Never see out of both eyes. Never have children.”

With cloudy eyes, I peered out toward the bleachers, touched by the sheer number of people openly weeping due to Callie’s tragic story.

“I’ll spend the next eighteen months meeting with a probation officer once a week. A meeting my mother will have to drive me to because my license has been suspended.” Callie’s voice had hardened, the sadness marring her face morphing into a fierce expression. “Before the accident, I wielded my social status like a weapon. I was nasty, selfish, and I didn’t care about anyone other than myself. I used my popularity to harm, not help.”

She gripped the sides of the podium and leaned forward, her entire frame shaking with intensity. “Please, people. Whether you listened to anything I had to say before or not, I ask that you listen to me now. Learn from my mistake. Slow down. If you’ve been drinking, think twice about getting behind the wheel. Call for help. Trust me when I tell you it’s better to feel uncool because you asked for help than it is to walk around knowing you’ve destroyed your life, or worse yet, killed someone because you drove drunk.”

A soothing calm swept over me as Bodie’s hand covered mine and squeezed, and I marveled at how different my life had been just a few short months ago. I’d been the new girl, lost and alone in every way imaginable. And for reasons I’ll never know, and will always be thankful for, my cousin, my friends, and Bodie had all taken me in, accepted me, ugly past and all.

I laced my fingers through Bodie’s and placed my opposite hand on top of our entwined fingers, smiling up at him through teary eyes. Losing a loved one was never easy. It was moving on and living afterward that was the most difficult. I’d always miss my parents. Would always feel responsible for my father’s death. But now, instead of wallowing in my guilt and letting it weigh me down and control me, I’d use those feelings, my loss, to help others.

The path in front of me was long and filled with ups and downs. Of that much I was sure. The only difference: I wasn’t alone anymore. I had Bodie by my side. And together, with my aunt, my cousin, and my friends, I felt like we could accomplish anything. Life was hard, yes. But it’s those hard moments that define us, make us who we are. And I knew, without a doubt, I was a survivor, which was a good thing, because my first national competition was three days away—in Vegas.

I was going home.

Chapter Nineteen

Status update:
Staying strong…

“Are you gonna get out of the car, Nev?”

I tore my gaze from the quiet intersection and looked over to Bodie, who sat in the passenger seat of Aunt Trish’s SUV. The two of us had sat parked for about twenty minutes, just staring. Well, I was staring. Bodie was doing the supportive boyfriend thing, which amounted to him sitting in his seat in total silence while I mustered the courage to step out of the vehicle. Aunt Trish was a freaking saint for allowing us to borrow the car—she’d driven us to Vegas in her new crossover—and I’d be forever grateful to her for letting Bodie come with us. I was sure I couldn’t do this without him.

Dr. Frank and I had had several discussions regarding me visiting the scene of my father’s accident. I’d made it clear from the get-go that unless I was dying, or in need of critical care, there was pretty much no way I’d ever step foot inside a hospital. Me and emergency care facilities just didn’t mix. I’d yet to have been able to visit my mother in her care facility, and while the guilt I harbored for missing the chance to say goodbye to my dad had lessened, it hadn’t gone away altogether. I wasn’t ready to visit the sterile environment in which he’d died. Not yet.

So, closure at the scene of the accident would have to do. Truthfully, the idea of physically occupying the space where my father had been hurt made me want to tear my hair out. The thought of driving through the intersection was bad enough, and here I sat, ready to walk toward it on foot. Dr. Frank insisted I would feel better once I said a formal goodbye to my dad. And given that ninety percent of what she asked me to do usually resulted in me feeling better, I knew I had to give her idea a shot. Regardless of how bad it made my chest hurt.

I drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” I said, stomach churning. “I think… I think I’m ready now.”

Bodie’s eyes were filled with warmth and understanding, and he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before pulling the upper half of my body over the center console into a tight embrace. He kissed the top of my head once, then pulled back and planted a soft peck on my lips. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Doll Face. I know how hard this is, and I’m proud of you.” He tugged at a piece of my hair, then flicked the cheer bow at the top of my head, smiling. “You got this, babe.”

I forced a halfhearted smile and slid the bouquet of flowers I’d purchased at the nearby grocery store off the dash. I didn’t feel strong, that much was for sure. I felt weak, and scared, and full of dread. But deep down, hangin’ out beneath all the negative emotions messing with my head, I also felt hope, and maybe even a little courage. I’d come so far in such a short period of time. And while I’d never be able to undo my actions the night of my father’s death, I could move forward and make sure I was a voice for those who’d lost their lives in a similar fashion. I would be an advocate against drinking and driving, and help others in my father’s name.