Page 127 of Just One Kiss

His thought bank was empty.

But then he remembered. The ambulance. The sirens. The paramedic picking up Dylan’s limp body and putting it onto a stretcher.

One of the other kids had run home to fetch their parents, but Josh stayed frozen in the spot where Dylan had collapsed, right next to the merry-go-round, which had gone eerily still.

His parents rushed through the yards and into the park, arriving moments before the ambulance pulled up.

“What happened?” Josh’s mom knelt down next to Dylan, whose eyes were closed. She gave the boy’s cheek three quick, but gentle, slaps. “Dylan, wake up.” She looked at Josh, her eyes wide. “What happened?”

“They were rough-housing again,” his dad said. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Shock and fear prevented Josh from speaking.

The ambulance screamed in and two paramedics raced toward them. Gloria moved aside to give them space to check on Dylan as a small crowd of neighbors gathered.

“Do we know what happened?” one of the paramedics asked Josh.

“He—” Josh started.

“They were messing around, you know, being boys, and he hit his head on the merry-go-round,” his father interrupted.

Josh looked up at his dad, who quickly met his son’s eyes. “I’m always telling them not to push each other, but they don’t listen.”

“So you pushed him and he fell?” the paramedic asked, eyes steady on Josh.

But Josh couldn’t speak.

He couldn’t speak because he didn’t remember. He didn’t know what had happened to his brother. All he knew was that one minute he was fine and the next, he was on the ground, unconscious.

“Josh, answer him.”

Josh’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

The paramedics lifted Dylan up onto the stretcher. “One of you can ride in the back with us.” They rushed off and Gloria ran to catch up, leaving Josh sitting on the ground in the dirt under the heavy weight of his father’s glare.

“You better pray your brother is okay,” his dad said.

Josh struggled to understand. Why didn’t he remember?

“What happened, Josh? You were mad at Dylan earlier because he took your Game Boy. Were you fighting? Did he make you mad enough that you hit him? Pushed him down?”

Josh shook his head. “I don’t know.”

His father frowned. “Get up.”

Josh stood, expecting the full weight of his dad’s anger, but there were people around, and that was the only reason his dad let him walk home without a scratch.

“I’m going to the hospital,” he said when they reached the driveway. “You go inside and start praying your brother is okay.”

Josh ran up to his room, flopped onto the bed and cried for an hour straight, praying—begging God—that his brother would be okay.

But when his parents came home later that night, it was clear by his mother’s tear-stained face and the emptiness in his father’s eyes that God hadn’t heard Josh’s prayers.

Dylan didn’t make it. He had a brain hemorrhage as a result of being struck on the head.

“Josh, some people are going to come by tomorrow and ask you some questions,” his dad said.

Josh frowned. “About what?”

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