First Date Read Online Free PDF Page A

stick around to find out?” the blond one snapped.
    All three of them were laughing as they ran out the front door. Chelsea watched them through the window as they disappeared around the corner.
    She realized she was still tugging at her hair. Forcing her hands down, she dropped to the floor beside her father. “Dad—? Dad—?”
    He didn’t respond. She gasped as she saw bright red blood oozing from a deep gash on the crown of his head, the blood darkening as it ran through his thinning hair.
    â€œDad—?”
    She rolled him over on his back.
    Please be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive.
    His eyes were closed. He was breathing slowly, noisily through his mouth. Each breath sounded like a groan.
    Relieved that he was still alive, but alarmed by the dark blood puddling under his head, Chelseapulled herself to her feet, stumbled to the phone in the kitchen, and dialed 911.
    Two hours later Chelsea was home alone, pacing the living-room floor, her sneakers scraping the threadbare carpet, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. The floorboards creaked as she walked over them. The sound of the white enamel clock over the mantel seemed to grow louder with each tick.
    Calm down, Chelsea, she told herself. Calm down. Calm down.
    She repeated the words in her mind until they no longer made sense.
    Everything’s going to be okay, she thought.
    Her father was in the intensive care unit of Shadyside General. The doctor told her he was in “serious but stable” condition.
    She was too frightened and yet too relieved to ask what that meant.
    Serious but stable.
    Those words sounded better than
dead.
    â€œWe don’t detect any internal bleeding,” the doctor, who had red hair and freckles and seemed about Chelsea’s age, told her. “Your father was lucky.”
    Lucky? How was he lucky? Chelsea was about to say.
    But she restrained herself, held in her bitterness,forced a smile, and muttered some kind of polite answer.
    Her mother had arrived at the hospital a few minutes later in her starched white uniform. She was pale and very frightened. The redheaded doctor had led her down the long, green-painted corridor, his hand on her shoulder, talking softly to her.
    Now it was nearly ten o’clock, and Mrs. Richards was still at the hospital. From there she’d probably go back to work.
    Chelsea was alone. Pacing the living room. The floorboards creaked eerily beneath her as if crying out from every step she took.
    I hate this creepy old house, she thought, dropping into the worn corduroy armchair in the corner.
    I hate this house. I hate this town.
    I hate … everything.
    Her anger couldn’t chase away her fear.
    The feeling of panic crept up on her, as if someone were pulling a heavy blanket over her, tightening it around her, smothering her under it.
    What if Dad dies?
    What will happen to us then?
    Stop it, Chelsea, she scolded herself.
    Stop it—right now.
    She looked down and realized she had the phone in her hand. Without thinking, she punched in Nina’s number.
    The phone rang three times. Nina answered. “Hello?”
    â€œNina, it’s me—Chelsea.”
    â€œOh, hi. How are you doing? Doug and I were just—”
    â€œNina, something terrible happened,” Chelsea interrupted impatiently, feeling the panic, feeling chilled all over, feeling her heart pound. “The restaurant was robbed. They hit my dad over the head.”
    â€œOh, that’s terrible!” Nina exclaimed. “Is he okay?” Chelsea could hear Doug in the background, asking what was going on.
    â€œI’m not really sure. He’s in intensive care. They say he’s stable. My mom’s at the hospital. I’m all alone here,” Chelsea said, staring at the clock over the mantel until it became a white blur. “Could you do me a favor, Nina? Could you come and stay here tonight?”
    â€œSure. No problem,” Nina said