Page 69 of Styx & Stones

I glance at the puke sullying the hotel duvet and grab her chemo blankie instead. I place it over her and throw on my jeans and shirt. I don’t have time for shoes. Then I yank open the door and shove the desk chair in front of it to hold it in place.

Alaska moans and tries to sit up. “Styx?”

“I’m here, baby. You’re okay. It was just a seizure.”

“My head hurts.”

“I know,” I say.

“Styx, you need to make sure she stays still,” the woman on the phone says. I was so caught up in Stones, I completely forgot she was still there. “Don’t let her get up until the paramedics arrive.”

“Okay.” I meet Stones’ wide-eyed gaze and cup her cheek. “Don’t move.”

“Paramedics?” Alaska lifts her head, but quickly lowers it again. “Who are you talking to?”

“Just lie still, babe. The paramedics will be here—”

Her eyes close, her face contorts, and the scream that comes from her mouth is bloodcurdling.

“Stones?”

Her cries become a strangled sob and her body jerks and thrashes on the mattress. “Shit, Stones. Baby stay with me.”

Fuck.

This is all my fault. I never should have brought her here. I took her away from her doctors, from her family, and if she dies, it’s all on me.

All my fault.

***

The wait at the hospitalis torture. I’m left in the waiting room, and no one will tell me what’s going on. I’m not immediate family, and because there’s a missing-persons report in place, they won’t let me see her until her family arrives.

After thinking about making a break for it into the ER, I pace back and forth in the overcrowded room. I call my mom and tell her where I am. She yells.A lot. But her and dad are on a flight along with Alaska’s parents within the hour. At some point, a cop comes to talk to me. The words “kidnapping”, “underage,” and “of consent” are thrown around.

A lot.

I’m eighteen now. I could be tried as an adult.

For kidnapping my girlfriend and taking her to Disneyland?

When I say as much, he warns me that he has no problem taking me down to the station in handcuffs, but I don’t care what happens to me. My cancer will likely kill me before they can even get a court date, so it seems like I have nothing to worry about anyway. He doesn’t arrest me. And I go back to waiting.

Three hours after I called my mom, our parents race into the ER waiting room.

Alaska’s mom rushes to the nurse’s station.

“Mrs. Stone. I’m really sorry,” I say, but Mr. Stone shoots me a glare so vicious and full of repugnance that I take a step back. My mom and dad wrap me in a hug, squeezing me so tight I can’t breathe.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” I whisper, to them, to Alaska, to her parents.

“Shh,” Mom soothes. “It’s okay.”

“I fucked up, Mom. I coulda got her killed. She was fine. We were fine, and then I woke up, and she just started seizing.”

“It’s okay, honey. You called the paramedics and did the right thing. Did they check you over?”

I pull away and stare at her. “No. Why would they? I’m fine.”

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