Conventionally Yours (True Colors 1)

“Can you call your mom? The doctor one?” Jasper asked after we’d been there long enough for our breathing to even out and our silence to turn awkward. It was the first time one of them had spoken to me directly since the accident. “Maybe she can find out more for us.”

“Good idea. I can do that.” Having a concrete task was good, and my hands were steadier as I got my phone back out. “HIPAA stuff probably means she can’t tell us much, but if he’s got a head injury, they might have already paged her. She’s on call this weekend.”

“Excellent.” Jasper nodded, but Conrad kept right on glaring at me. Needing privacy and an escape from that anger, I took my phone away from them, stepping into a side corridor.

“They haven’t rung yet, which is probably a good sign, honestly,” Mom said after I explained what had happened. “But I’ll call in, see what I can find out, and I’ll have Judith try Julio herself. She might know which party he’s likely at.”

“Thanks.” It helped just telling her, knowing she was looking into the situation.

“Do you want me to head there?”

No. Things had been weird enough earlier, her and Mimi all excited about me having friends like I was a kindergartner with their first playdate, baking muffins and handing out unwanted advice. But I didn’t want to start another argument. “We’ll work it out.”

When I returned to the waiting area, Jasper was nowhere to be seen, and Conrad was sitting with his head down, hands in his hair, shoulders slumped. He looked utterly defeated. I might not have the first clue what I was supposed to say to him, but I knew I couldn’t simply take the empty chair next to him and ignore his despair.

“The doctors here have excellent ratings, you know. It’s not a nationally ranked teaching hospital for nothing. They’ll take good care of Professor Tuttle.” Facts were more comforting to me than false platitudes, but given the way Conrad blinked at me, perhaps I should have opened with something more like “he’ll be okay” even though I had no way of guaranteeing that.

“What did your mom say?”

“They hadn’t called her for a neurology consult yet, which she says is good. She’s going to see what she can find out.”

“Good.” Conrad scrubbed at his hair, making it even more unruly than it already was. He used to always keep it short and tamed with product, but lately it always seemed a few weeks overdue for a trim. “Can’t believe this happened. It’s all my fault for not insisting he let me carry everything.”

“It’s not your fault.” I wanted to pat his leg or arm, the way Mimi might if I were the one upset, but I knew better than to touch Conrad right then. “It’s mine. I shouldn’t have argued with you. And I’m sorry.”

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to fix Professor Tuttle.” Conrad blew out a harsh breath. “But I argued back. So it’s on both of us, really.”

That wasn’t the same as “apology accepted,” but it was probably about as good as I was going to get.

“Yeah. But I’m the one who…” I swallowed hard because admitting I’d been wrong was never easy. “What did you mean by if I knew the truth about you and school?”

His laugh was a brittle, jagged thing. “You don’t get that story. Not now. Not while I’m still so pissed at you—at me, at both of us—that I can’t think straight. Sorry.”

“Fair enough.” I hated the disappointment that made my muscles sag. He was right. I had no right to his story, whatever had really happened to him, but it didn’t stop me from wanting it as the minutes ticked away. The initial rush of trying to make it to the hospital had given way to the monotony of waiting, time passing with the slowness of a standardized test even as the urgency in my chest didn’t let up.

“I’m here.” Professor Herrera came charging into the waiting room right as my eyes started to glaze over from waiting. Tall and broad-shouldered and somewhat younger than Professor Tuttle, he had a commanding presence as he loomed over us. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. It was an accident.” Conrad did a better job than I was capable of at relaying the limited facts we had.

“And how is he now?” Professor Herrera’s cultured voice was way calmer than either Conrad’s or mine.

“We don’t know,” Conrad said miserably. “They haven’t told us anything.”

“Well, they better tell me. You guys wait here. I’ll go see if they’ll let me see him, then come back and update you.” Radiating confidence, he hurried away, and I settled further into my chair. He wasn’t the kind of guy who could be argued with. If he said wait, then wait we would.