He put a napkin over her mouth and then wiped it.
“That’s my girl.”
“Parker…” She coughed again, and he repeated the process, rubbing at her nasal tubes. “I hate coughing.”
“I know. It’s because you got the sniffles, but you’re getting better, right? It’s easier to breathe because of them putting air inside?” He winked and tapped against the little machine attached to her wheel chair.
“A bit.” Her face looked paler than before. “I’m so tired though.”
“Maybe—”
“Parker!” she yelled, her voice almost piercing my ears. “I said I’m tired! I’m tired! So tired! And I keep dreaming of the Christmas tree. But it doesn’t have lights. Why doesn’t it have lights, Parker?”
Gabe froze. I’d never seen him look so pale before.
“The tree!” she yelled again, and then seemed to almost seize in her chair as her mouth dropped open.
I ran over just as she started coughing and snatched the napkin from his hand and held it up to her mouth.
She hacked a few times. I wiped her mouth and offered her a small smile.
“All better?” I asked.
“N-no.” Giant tears started falling down her face.
“Hmm, why don’t we sing then? Would you like that?” I was grasping at straws. It always seemed to calm her down when Gabe sang.
She didn’t answer, and I knew I was playing with something fragile. Without thinking I shoved the napkin back into Gabe’s hands and went over to the piano and started playing one of the songs that I’d learned from the Little Mermaid when I was little.
“Part of Your World!” Princess shrieked.
Gabe still stood motionless.
Princess tried singing, and even though the words didn’t come out right, her smile returned. Best of all, no more coughing.
When the song was done, it was time for class to be over. Martha came in and wheeled Princess to the corner, while I approached Gabe and played with the idea of clapping in front of his face.
“What’s wrong?” I tugged his hand.
He blinked and looked down at the napkin in his hands. It was stained red. Covered in blood.
Princess was coughing up blood.
Chapter Thirty-One
Red— amazing how one color can transport me back to that moment. There had been so much blood and it was all on my hands — it’s still on my hands. —Gabe H.
Gabe
The dream was back.
The dream usually came when she was feverish… Princess couldn’t remember much about her accident¸ only that there were trees. In her mind, they looked like Christmas trees, which meant we had a hell of a time during the holidays, considering she was petrified of them.
I had to agree with her.
Trees reminded me of it too.
Just like her damn Oregon Ducks sweatshirt and the scarf tied around her wheelchair.