Wake Up Missing Read Online Free PDF

back.
    â€œYeah.” He hesitated, then sat up a little straighter. “Quarterback.”
    â€œYou get sacked or what?” Ben asked, finally peeling his orange.
    â€œUh, kind of. I went down pretty hard. I still get headaches, and sometimes when I’m doing my math homework, I can’t remember stuff, you know? Like I’m supposed to have the information and it’s probably in my brain somewhere, but it feels like everything got knocked out of place.”
    Sarah shrugged. “My brain always feels that way when I do math.”
    â€œWhat about you, Cat?” Quentin pushed his glasses up on his nose and squinted at me.
    â€œI fell out of a tree stand.” There. Embarrassing moment over. “I was watching birds up there.”
    I waited for them to laugh or say bird watching was an old-lady thing. But they didn’t.
    â€œCool,” Sarah said. And Quentin nodded. And then we all looked at Ben.
    He took a long time chewing a section of his orange, then swallowed and said, “I . . . uh . . . fell off my horse.”
    â€œWow,” Quentin said.
    â€œYeah.” Ben paused but then went on. “My aunt and uncle have a stable where they run programs for disabled kids. I ride there a lot.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but his face changed in a way that only happens when you’re talking about something important. “I did, anyway, until I got thrown.” He looked back down at his magazine, turned to a new story. And I could tell he’d told as much of
his
story as we were going to hear.
    Dr. Ames came striding into the cafeteria then, jingling keys on a keychain. “Oh, good! Glad you’re getting to know one another. I hate to steal you away, Cat, but you’ve got an MRI this morning so we can see what’s going on in that head, okay?”

    He walked me to the lab near his office and flicked on the lights. This room wasn’t the stark white of the MRI lab at the hospital back home; it was painted a deep blue and had art prints on the walls—water lilies and meadow scenes that were probably meant to be soothing. But the most soothing thing to me wasthe MRI machine itself. “It’s a lot more open than the one at home,” I said.
    Dr. Ames smiled and looked at me like he understood. “Those old models are pretty claustrophobic, aren’t they? I think you’ll find this more comfortable.” He glanced at the clipboard in his hands. “I’ve got the wrong chart,” he said, and gestured toward the examination table next to the MRI machine. “You can change into a robe and hop on up. I’ll be right back.”
    He closed the door behind him, and I reached for the soft cotton robe draped over the table, but then I remembered my music. Back home, I’d get so nervous in the MRI machine it was hard for me to be still, and then they couldn’t get a good scan. I’d always move and mess it up, and then I felt awful because they’d have to start over.
    So Mom had the lab technicians play my favorite music—my
real
favorite music. Not Lucy’s dark, moody new playlists that I listened to on the soccer bus and pretended to like. My playlists were full of happy, upbeat bands like GizMania and the Stealth Acrobats, and they helped a ton. I looked at the machine here; I’d probably be okay, but it couldn’t hurt to see if I could grab my music player.
    I put down the robe and opened the lab door, but Dr. Ames wasn’t back yet. I looked down the hallway and saw his office door was closed, but the one next to it, Dr. Gunther’s, was cracked open, with voices coming from inside.
    I walked down the hall and was lifting my hand to knock, when Dr. Ames raised his voice.
    â€œNo! Not when we’re so close!”
    Why would he be yelling at Dr. Gunther? I lowered my hand and took half a step back.
    Dr. Gunther said something I couldn’t hear, and then, “. . . far