doesn’t take long to figure out something terrible has happened outside. I stare at the people around me but Jordan is not among them and my stomach sinks like a rock dropped into deep water.
Something is wrong.
Two security guards in their black T-shirts push past us, one carrying a blanket. Amber murmurs, ‘This doesn’t look good.’
‘No.’ There is an urgency escalating inside me now. Somehow I know Jordan Blake, the guy with the sad blue eyes, needs my help. I start pushing people out of my way, careful not to shove and possibly hurt someone.
Amber calls out, worried about what I’m doing, but I don’t
know
what I’m doing!
Finally I’m outside, overlooking a chaotic scene. There are people everywhere, blue lights flashing from two police cars, another arriving with its siren blaring, and an ambulance with its rear door open wide.
When I see him, something inside me jerks and I stagger forward, stumbling down a few steps. It’s Jordan, and he’s dying. I know this like I know my own name. He’s lying flaton the ground with the new girl from my physics class, Sophie, down on her knees on one side of him, and another boy from my year on the other. It’s clear they are trying to keep him from bleeding to death, with their clenched fists pushing down on pressure points above and below a wound to his stomach. Someone has stabbed him and it doesn’t look like an accident. Sophie’s face is coming out in a bruise, her right cheek gleaming bright red.
A security guard moves through the crowd, ordering everyone inside. I slip around him while his back is turned.
This is my chance.
The paramedics are working fast to strap the boy to a gurney and hook up an intravenous line. His friends are now standing aside. Sophie turns and notices the gawking crowd still hanging around. ‘Hey! Get lost! This isn’t a freak show!’ She spots me and hesitates, probably recognising me from school, or sees my concern in the anguish that must be showing in my eyes. ‘Ebony, are you OK?’
‘I have to talk to him.’
The gurney starts moving towards the ambulance parked a few metres away. Sophie notices, but turns to study my face again. Blood drips from her soaked hands. She doesn’t know what to do with them so just holds them out in front of her. ‘Are you his girlfriend?’
Girlfriend?
How well does she know this guy if she thinks I could be his girlfriend? Apparently not well enough to know the intimate details of his life. ‘Ah, no, I’m not.’
‘Friend?’
‘Er …’ It takes a moment to reach for the right word. At my hesitation her eyes flare with white-hot anger.
‘You don’t know him at all! You’re like the rest of these vultures.’ She flicks her head at the crowd, holding their phones in the air, taking pictures. ‘Go back inside and take the rest of these sick losers with you.’
She rushes over to the gurney and takes Jordan’s hand. Unable to stop myself, and not understanding what’s driving this odd, compelling urge to touch him, I run over too and grab hold of the gurney. I try to get his attention.
But he’s in shock and dazed. His eyes close and open several times as he looks from one side of the gurney to the other. He’s fighting to hang on to consciousness.
I don’t know what’s got into me, but I’ve got this inexplicable yearning to help him. I can see I’m adding to his confusion, but I can’t stop myself.
Looking down at the injured boy I whisper, ‘I can help you. You just have to let me. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
I manage to hold on to the gurney for a few more seconds before a paramedic attempts to prise my fingers away. ‘Let go or I’ll have you arrested!’
I step back, feeling helpless as the ambulance door closes. Blue lights flashing, the ambulance rushes away, and I’m left standing, an emptiness searing me from the inside out.
8
Jordan
A woman’s gravelly voice calls my name and demands I open my eyes. She sounds so much like
Something is wrong.
Two security guards in their black T-shirts push past us, one carrying a blanket. Amber murmurs, ‘This doesn’t look good.’
‘No.’ There is an urgency escalating inside me now. Somehow I know Jordan Blake, the guy with the sad blue eyes, needs my help. I start pushing people out of my way, careful not to shove and possibly hurt someone.
Amber calls out, worried about what I’m doing, but I don’t
know
what I’m doing!
Finally I’m outside, overlooking a chaotic scene. There are people everywhere, blue lights flashing from two police cars, another arriving with its siren blaring, and an ambulance with its rear door open wide.
When I see him, something inside me jerks and I stagger forward, stumbling down a few steps. It’s Jordan, and he’s dying. I know this like I know my own name. He’s lying flaton the ground with the new girl from my physics class, Sophie, down on her knees on one side of him, and another boy from my year on the other. It’s clear they are trying to keep him from bleeding to death, with their clenched fists pushing down on pressure points above and below a wound to his stomach. Someone has stabbed him and it doesn’t look like an accident. Sophie’s face is coming out in a bruise, her right cheek gleaming bright red.
A security guard moves through the crowd, ordering everyone inside. I slip around him while his back is turned.
This is my chance.
The paramedics are working fast to strap the boy to a gurney and hook up an intravenous line. His friends are now standing aside. Sophie turns and notices the gawking crowd still hanging around. ‘Hey! Get lost! This isn’t a freak show!’ She spots me and hesitates, probably recognising me from school, or sees my concern in the anguish that must be showing in my eyes. ‘Ebony, are you OK?’
‘I have to talk to him.’
The gurney starts moving towards the ambulance parked a few metres away. Sophie notices, but turns to study my face again. Blood drips from her soaked hands. She doesn’t know what to do with them so just holds them out in front of her. ‘Are you his girlfriend?’
Girlfriend?
How well does she know this guy if she thinks I could be his girlfriend? Apparently not well enough to know the intimate details of his life. ‘Ah, no, I’m not.’
‘Friend?’
‘Er …’ It takes a moment to reach for the right word. At my hesitation her eyes flare with white-hot anger.
‘You don’t know him at all! You’re like the rest of these vultures.’ She flicks her head at the crowd, holding their phones in the air, taking pictures. ‘Go back inside and take the rest of these sick losers with you.’
She rushes over to the gurney and takes Jordan’s hand. Unable to stop myself, and not understanding what’s driving this odd, compelling urge to touch him, I run over too and grab hold of the gurney. I try to get his attention.
But he’s in shock and dazed. His eyes close and open several times as he looks from one side of the gurney to the other. He’s fighting to hang on to consciousness.
I don’t know what’s got into me, but I’ve got this inexplicable yearning to help him. I can see I’m adding to his confusion, but I can’t stop myself.
Looking down at the injured boy I whisper, ‘I can help you. You just have to let me. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
I manage to hold on to the gurney for a few more seconds before a paramedic attempts to prise my fingers away. ‘Let go or I’ll have you arrested!’
I step back, feeling helpless as the ambulance door closes. Blue lights flashing, the ambulance rushes away, and I’m left standing, an emptiness searing me from the inside out.
8
Jordan
A woman’s gravelly voice calls my name and demands I open my eyes. She sounds so much like
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