Page 16 of Rules of Engagement

"I need some clothes," I said, pointing at my feet. "I'm wearing Garrett's socks."

"And they look very nice on you too," said Mom, patting my hand.

"I'll go to your house and get you some clothes," said Lily. From the corner of my eye, I saw Garrett shaking his head. "I'll go to my house and get some of your clothes," she corrected. "I must have forgotten to return at least fifteen or more of your items."

"Thank you."

"You can rely on me to ensure you will be fashionably coordinated," said Lily.

"I'll get you something warm to wear from my locker," said Alice. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

"What about food? You must be hungry," said Dad.

"I can pick up something from the cafeteria," said Daniel.

"Or I can get you a pizza. How about going to Monty's Slices?" said Serena, cajoling.

My chin wobbled and tears pricked my eyes. "That's what we ordered for takeout." Serena winced.

"Did you see the delivery driver?" asked Garrett.

I nodded. "He came just after Solomon was shot. I don't know what happened to him." My whole focus was centered on Solomon. I remembered the delivery driver arriving, a pizza box in his hand, but I don't know what happened to it or how long he stuck around.

"I'll track him down," said Garrett. "You didn't mention him in the interview."

"I didn't think about him," I said. "He arrived a few minutes afterwards."

"Don't worry about it. If you think of anything else, tell me."

I nodded.

"Daniel's gone to get you something to eat from the cafeteria," said Mom. "I think we should get you cleaned up before we go upstairs. Here's the nurse to help you."

"What about everyone else?"

"You leave everyone to me," she said. "Just think about you. I'll take care of everything else." She and my dad helped me up and directed me out of the small crowd that had gathered before aiming me towards the nurse. I glanced over my shoulder to where they waited as my parents led me away, wondering if I should say something. Was I supposed to give a speech? Or some instructions? I couldn't think of anything to say, except that I was so grateful they were all there.

"Lexi needs to wash up," said Mom to the nurse and the nurse nodded.

There was a large toilet cubicle at the end of the corridor and my mother ushered me inside. She grabbed paper towels from the dispenser and ran the faucet, soaking the towels. She took my arms, one at a time, and wiped off the blood. The sink water began to run pink and I closed my eyes, letting my mother do all the work. She dabbed at my neck and cheek and I wondered how much of Solomon's blood was on me. I started to shake, a tear rolling down my cheek and Mom pulled me in for a damp hug. "You are going to be okay," she said softly. "You heard Dr. Forsythe. John was very lucky. He is going to pull through this. Both of you are going to be absolutely fine. We are all here for you, for both of you."

"Sorry for crying," I sniffled.

"Nothing to be sorry for. Now breathe," said Mom. "I'm going to count slowly and you're going to breathe according to that count. One...in... Two... out... Three..."

I hiccupped and forced myself to breathe according to the rhythm of my mother's voice, her tone soft and soothing. When I was calm again, she finished dabbing me off. She smoothed my hair into a low ponytail and took my arm. "Let's go to the ICU now," she said. "You'll feel better when you see that he's okay."

My parents guided me to the elevators and we stepped inside. Garrett joined us just as the doors began to slide closed.

"I need to call Anastasia," I said, realizing that someone had to tell Solomon's sister. She worked in PR in Manhattan and was probably at an event or at home, but definitely uninformed of what happened. It wouldn't be the first time someone had to impart news of a shooting to her. Their parents had been killed in a wrong place-wrong time shooting many years ago, leaving Solomon as the guardian not only of her but also their brother. "I need to call Damien too. They will want to be here."

"I can call them if you want," offered Dad.

"No, I should," I decided. I looked around for the ICU sign, wondering where it was and why the hospital didn't make it more obvious. Anger bubbled up from inside me. "How is anyone supposed to find anything in here?" I snapped.

"This way," said Dad, leading us forwards. He left me with Mom and Garrett, hurrying over to talk to the nurse at the desk. He beckoned us to follow him to the next room where he held open the door. I stepped through, my heart thumping, afraid of what I would see.

Solomon lay on the sole bed, a white sheet tucked over his chest and legs. He looked like he was asleep, and his face was relaxed, except for the tubes and wires that spiraled from his body and connected to some machines that beeped periodically. Thick, white bandages were wrapped around his chest.

He was alive. Pulse beating, heart-thumping, alive.

"Have you any idea who would do something like that to him?" asked Garrett. "Any enemies? Anyone at all?"

"No," I said, riveting my eyes on him. "I have no idea who could possibly want to hurt him."

Except it wasn't just hurting him. No one voiced it yet, no one articulated the words I was thinking now. Someone didn't just want to hurt Solomon.

Someone had tried — and thankfully, failed — to murder him.

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