Summer of the Geek (25 page)

“Wow,” Dex said.

“Yeah, I know.”

I turned to look at him. As we stared at each other, I thought I could actually feel my heart breaking. Tears welled up, stinging my eyes. Dex looked close to tears, too.

“Miranda—” he began.

But before Dex could finish whatever it was he was about to say, shouts broke out, coming from the direction of the water’s edge. We both looked up.

“There’s a little girl out there! I think she’s in trouble!” a man called out.

“Someone get the lifeguard!” a woman screamed.

Dex and I were both on our feet running before we heard another word.

Amelia, I thought.
Amelia
. Somehow, I just knew it was her, even before I saw the long dark hair floating up in the water and the glimpses of a purple-striped swimsuit amidst the white-foam-capped waves.

I heard the sharp blow of the lifeguard’s whistle and knew the guards on duty were on their way, but Dex got to the water first. Without hesitating, he dove in, fully clothed, and began swimming out toward the small figure bobbing twenty feet out from shore. People crowded around me, pointing and shouting, as though this would somehow help Dex. I knew there was no way he could hear any of us over the roar of the ocean.

The two lifeguards on duty, each clutching a long red floatie, reached the water and dove in, swimming after Dex. But he’d already gotten to Amelia, and had turned her over, faceup, hooking one arm around her to keep her afloat.

“Over here!” Dex shouted to the lifeguards, waving his free arm in the air.

Even though it was a boiling-hot day, my entire body had turned to ice. Numbly, my hands clasped in front of me, I sent up a silent prayer,
please oh please oh please oh please
, as the lifeguards took Amelia from Dex, leaned her back against their red flotation devices, and together, swam her ashore.

There were gasps and muttering from the crowd as the lifeguards carried Amelia out of the surf and laid her down on the sand. She looked so small and helpless. A loose circle of observers formed around Amelia and her rescuers. I heard someone sob, and realized, distantly, that it was me.

“Stand back,” one of the lifeguards shouted to the crowd, and everyone took an obligatory two steps back, without breaking the circle formation.

I couldn’t move. I stood there, frozen in place, until Dex, his hair dripping wet and rivulets of water running down his arms, took my hand and pulled me to the side.

Amelia was breathing and had her eyes open. That was something, I thought. She seemed confused, though, as the lifeguards asked her questions, and she kept convulsing with body-racking coughs. Someone brought over a towel, which was draped over Amelia, shielding her pale skin from the sun.

“Is this girl’s parent or guardian here?” one of the lifeguards asked.

I didn’t respond—I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I was vaguely aware that my legs, arms, pretty much every part of me was trembling. Dex put an arm around me—wet, but reassuringly solid—and pressed a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m her babysitter,” I said.

This caused the crowd to start murmuring again, as everyone turned to look at me. Some of the gazes were curious, others were downright hostile, especially as they took in Dex’s arm around me. I knew what they were thinking:
What kind of a horrible, irresponsible person hangs out with her boyfriend instead of watching the child in her care?
And they were right. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t brought Amelia to the beach. She had come there to find me. I should have seen her safely home. This was all my fault.

An ambulance was driven right onto the beach, and the medics jumped out and went straight over to Amelia. They checked her vitals and then moved her onto a stretcher and transferred her to the ambulance.

“I should go with her,” I said to Dex through chattering teeth.

“Go ahead. I’ll call my sister for a ride. I’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can,” he promised.

I climbed into the ambulance after the medics. Between Amelia’s stretcher and the various equipment, there wasn’t a lot of room to navigate, but one nodded toward a chair, complete with seat belt, off to one side.

“Take a seat,” the medic said.

I sat, facing Amelia. She looked very small and very pale. Her wet hair was a tangle around her face. There was a dark bruise just under her right eye.

“Hi,” I said softly.

“Hi,” Amelia croaked.

“What happened?” I asked. “Why were you in the water?”

“I wanted to prove that I was a good enough swimmer to surf,” Amelia said. “But then I got out there, and it felt . . . it felt like I was being pulled down . . . and I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t . . .”

Amelia broke off then, her eyes welling with tears. Her teeth were chattering, and I could see that despite the heavy gray blanket the medic tucked around her, she was trembling. I wasn’t sure if it was from cold or from shock. I leaned forward and took her small hand in mine.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay now,” I said.

“I want my mom,” Amelia said. Her face crumpled, and she began to cry.

T
he waiting room at the hospital emergency room had rows and rows of uncomfortable plastic seats, tables stacked with magazines three years out of date, and faded posters on the wall advertising blood pressure medication. Dex and I sat side by side, our hands clasped, both of us silent. I wasn’t entirely sure why we were waiting there—I doubted anyone would tell us anything, or that the Fishers would even want to speak to me—but the idea of leaving was unbearable.

Someone—I wasn’t sure who—had called the Fishers. I’d given the medics Amelia’s contact information while we were on our way to the hospital, and Amelia’s mother had arrived moments after the ambulance. She ran into the waiting room, her face white with shock, demanding to see her daughter. She was escorted back to the patient area through a heavy pair of automated double doors. Mr. Fisher had arrived separately, a half hour later, looking just as shaken, although he was far more soft-spoken when he talked to the nurse staffing the counter. The nurse gestured in my direction—I suppose answering his question about who’d accompanied his daughter to the hospital—and Mr. Fisher turned to look at me. I raised a hand in silent greeting, and he nodded solemnly at me, before disappearing behind the same double set of doors.

“This wasn’t your fault,” Dex finally said.

I didn’t answer. My head bowed down, and my shoulders slumped forward.

“It wasn’t,” Dex insisted.

“I should have been watching her,” I said. My voice was so thin, I didn’t recognize it as my own.

“It wasn’t your responsibility.”

“But I was there. And I knew she was at the beach alone,” I said.

“You didn’t know she was going to go swimming by herself,” Dex pointed out. “How could you have? She was supposed to be on her way home.”

“I know how contrary she is. I should have known she’d head straight for the ocean,” I said miserably.

“You’re not a mind reader,” Dex pointed out. “Besides, I was there, too. That makes me just as responsible as you are.”

I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but it wasn’t working. Right now I just wanted to know that Amelia would be okay.

“Isn’t that your dad?” Dex asked.

I looked up to see my dad walking toward us through the waiting room. I’d called home when we first got to the hospital to let him know where I was and what was going on. Dad had offered to come right over to get me, but I told him I wanted to wait and see how Amelia was.

“Dad?” I said, standing up so he’d see me.

“Hi, Miranda,” Dad said, heading toward us. When he reached me, he gave me a big hug, squeezing me extra hard.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I thought you might need some moral support,” Dad said. He smiled at Dex. “Hi, there.”

“Hi, Mr. Bloom,” Dex said, standing, too, and shaking my dad’s hand.

“Have you heard anything about Amelia’s condition?” Dad asked as we all sat back down on the hard plastic chairs.

I shook my head. “No. The nurses won’t tell us anything, because we’re not family, and the Fishers haven’t come back out.”

“Why don’t you come home?” Dad asked gently. “There’s no point in just sitting here.”

I shook my head. “That wouldn’t feel right,” I said. “But you don’t have to stay. Dex can bring me home.” Dex nodded in agreement. After his sister picked Dex up at the beach, he’d dropped her back off at their house and then driven to the hospital. Dad shrugged.

“I might as well wait with you for a while,” he said.

It should have been weird sitting there in the shabby waiting room between my dad and my boyfriend, waiting for news that we might not even hear. But for some reason, it wasn’t. It was oddly comforting.

We’d been waiting for just over two hours when the heavy double doors opened and the Fishers came out. They both looked pale and tired. Mr. Fisher took Mrs. Fisher’s arm and led her over to where Dad, Dex, and I were sitting. I stood up as soon as I saw them approach. Dad and Dex quickly got to their feet, too.

“How is she?” I asked when the Fishers reached us.

“Amelia’s fine,” Mr. Fisher said. “She’s resting right now, but I think they’re going to release her and let us bring her home today.”

Relief flooded through me. She was fine. Amelia was okay. I drew in a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh.

“That’s great,” I said. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Actually, we’re the ones who should be thanking you, Miranda,” Mrs. Fisher said. “I had no idea Amelia snuck out of the house. I heard the piano music, and I . . . I just assumed . . . I didn’t even check on her.”

Her voice broke, and her eyes filled with tears. Mr. Fisher put an arm around his wife’s shoulders to steady her.

“If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would have happened,” Mrs. Fisher continued.

I couldn’t bear hearing this undeserved praise. I shook my head. “I didn’t do anything. I was just sitting there. I wasn’t watching her. I hadn’t even realized she’d gone in the water until she got into trouble. And even then, Dex is the one who saved her,” I said, gesturing to Dex. “He’s a lifeguard.”

“You’re the one who went in after her?” Mrs. Fisher asked Dex.

Dex nodded, and Mrs. Fisher lunged at him, pulling him into a bear hug.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she said.

Dex looked a bit embarrassed when she finally let him go. A faint rosy blush spread over his nose and cheeks, and he rumpled a hand through his hair.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“I’m Richard Bloom, Miranda’s father,” Dad said, reaching to shake Mr. Fisher’s hand. “I’m very glad to hear that Amelia’s well.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mr. Fisher said. “We’re very thankful that your daughter and her friend were there for Amelia today.”

“But you don’t understand,” I blurted out. “It was all my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Mrs. Fisher said gently. She reached out and took my hand, which should have been weird, but was actually sort of nice. “Amelia told us what happened. She used very bad judgment. And you had no idea what she was going to do, or what would happen as a result. We’re just glad that you were there with this young man.” Mr. Fisher smiled warmly at Dex. “And that you were there to ride to the hospital with her. She told us what a comfort that was for her.”

“She did?” I said.

“She did,” Mrs. Fisher confirmed. She smiled at me, although tears still glittered in her eyes. Mrs. Fisher squeezed my hand and released it. “What happened today was my fault, Miranda, not yours. If I’d been watching her more carefully, she would never have been able to sneak out of the house.”

“Amelia is pretty crafty,” I said fairly.

“I know she is,” Mrs. Fisher said with a faint laugh. “She’s too smart for her own good.”

“I know what that’s like,” my dad remarked.

Mrs. Fisher wasn’t done, though. She took in a deep breath, let it out, and said, “I owe you an apology, Miranda. I should never have fired you. I’ve just been so caught up in the idea of Amelia having this great talent . . . I somehow let it take over everything else.”

“It’s okay,” I said quietly.

“No, it’s not okay,” Mrs. Fisher said. “I’m not letting myself off the hook that easily.”

Mr. Fisher put an arm around his wife’s shoulders again. “We need to spend some time together as a family, I think.”

“Speaking of which, we should be going,” Dad said. He smiled at me. “The Fishers probably want to go back in to be with Amelia.”

“Right,” I said. I hesitated. “I don’t suppose I could see Amelia, could I?”

“She’s sleeping right now,” Mrs. Fisher said apologetically. “That’s why we were able to step away for a moment.”

“I understand. But could you tell her hi from me?” I asked.