Size 14 Is Not Fat Either (Heather Wells 2)

“That’s okay,” I say, as some EMTs gently pry my arms from around Cooper’s neck. “I still love you anyway. I love all of you! You, Tom—and Sarah—and even Dr. Kilgore. Where is Dr. Kilgore, anyway?”

And then the room starts spinning fast—I mean, really fast—and my sleepiness becomes too much to resist anymore.

And I don’t remember anything more after that.

29

You said you love me

And that shit don’t come from nowhere

Nowhere except the heart.

“Gavin’s Song”

Written by Heather Wells

My head is POUNDING.

Seriously.

It isn’t funny.

I can’t believe people do this drug recreationally. If this is how Jordan felt yesterday—was it only yesterday?—at the Stoned Crow, well, it’s no wonder he turned down a beer. I never want to drink again. Anything. Not even water. Not even—

“Heather.”

I open one eye. I can’t believe who I see standing there beside my gurney. My boss. Of all the people in the world to wake up to, I have to open my eyes to my boss’s face? I mean, I love Tom, and all.

But not that much.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” I inform him.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He holds up a fistful of GET WELL balloons from the gift shop. “From the department.”

I groan and close my eyes. Seriously, it’s a bad sign when the colors of a bunch of balloons are too bright for your eyes.

“You should be feeling better soon,” Tom says. There’s a tremor of laughter in his voice. “They’re pumping you full of fluids and vitamin B.”

“I wanna go home,” I say, with a moan. I can’t even lift my arm, it’s so full of needles.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Tom says. “They aren’t admitting you. Just a few more hours of intravenous fluids here in the ER, and you should be good to go.”

I groan. I can’t believe this. I’m in the St. Vincent’s ER, the same ER where I’ve visited so many students in exactly my current condition.

But I never realized they felt this crappy.

“Listen,” Tom says, in a voice that’s got no laughter left in it. “I wanted you to be the first to know.”

I open one eye. “You really are quitting?” I ask.

“Not at all,” Tom says, with a chuckle. “I’m getting promoted. To area coordinator.”

I open my other eye. “WHAT?”

“Stan was so impressed by how I handled the whole Lindsay situation,” Tom explains excitedly, “that he promoted me. I’ll still be in Housing, but now I’ll be assigned to Waverly Hall. The frats, Heather. Stan says he realizes now that the building needs an on-site adult presence…it’s a ten-thousand-dollar-a-year raise. Of course, I’ll have to be working with pills like the Tau Phis…but they shouldn’t be so hard to handle, now that Steve and Doug are under arrest. And Steven—Coach Andrews—says he’ll be happy to help….”

I close my eyes. I can’t believe this. I finally get a boss I like, and they take him away.

And excuse me, but Tom didn’t handle the Lindsay situation. I did. I’m the one who nearly got killed getting her killers to fess up. Where’s my promotion?

In a way, I kind of wish they had killed me. At least my head wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Wow,” I say. “That’s great, Tom.”

“Don’t worry,” Tom says. I feel him pat my hand. “I’ll make sure we get you a really kick-ass new boss. Okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”

I must have fallen back asleep, because when I open my eyes again, Tom is gone. In his place are Magda, Sarah, and Pete.

“Go away,” I say to them.

“Oh, thank God,” Magda says, looking relieved. “She’s all right.”

“I’m serious,” I say. “My head is killing me.”

“That’s the benzodiazepine wearing off,” Sarah says chip-perly. “It’s a central nervous system depressant. You’re going to feel like crap for a while.”

I glare at her. “Thanks.”

“We just wanted to see how you were doing,” Pete says. “And to tell you not to worry.”

“Yes,” Magda says, grabbing the side of my gurney and bouncing excitedly. “They found the cocaine!”

“Right,” Pete says. “They found the cocaine. Doug Winer’s stash. The one Lindsay stole.”

This makes me open my eyes more fully. “Really? Where was it?”

“Where do you think?” Sarah asks. “In Kimberly Watkins’s room.”

“But…” I know I’m out of it. But I can’t believe I’m that out of it. “Kimberly and Lindsay were in on it together?”

Sarah shakes her head. “No. Lindsay taped the bag under her favorite cafeteria table—which is why it wasn’t there when she went looking for it, to give it back to Doug when he figured out she was the one who had it. Because someone else had already found it. Someone who regularly shares that table with Lindsay. Or used to, anyway.”

I stare at her. “Kimberly Watkins? Kimberly had Doug’s coke the whole time?” When Sarah nods, I ask, “How did you find out?”

“Cheryl,” Magda explains. “She was so angry—over what Kimberly said about Lindsay and Coach Andrews, and then, later, over what happened to her poor Jeff—who is going to be all right, just a few broken ribs—that she went to confront Kimberly, and…well…let’s just say they didn’t act like a couple of movie stars.”

“Well, unless you mean Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie,” Sarah says.

“Cheryl beat the crap out of Kimberly,” Pete says. “And Kimberly confessed. She was going to start her own little drug-dealing operation, it seems. She saw Lindsay hide the coke, and stole it next chance she got. Only after what happened to Lindsay, she was too scared to do anything. She was terrified the Winer boys would find out she was the one who had the stuff, and do to her what they did to Lindsay.”

“That’s why she kept trying to throw me off their scent,” I murmur.

“Exactly,” Sarah says. “Anyway, Cheryl went straight to the cops with what she found out, and now Kimberly’s under arrest, as well. I guess the DEA’d been working for months to bust what they considered the biggest student drug ring on campus. Only, until Lindsay’s murder, they really didn’t have any idea where the kids were getting the stuff. That’s why they had Reggie working undercover in the park. They were hoping he’d pick up some clues…which he finally did, when you asked him about the Winer boys. But even then, they still didn’t have proof….”