CH 3
At that moment, I actually realized how long I'd been out. What seemed like an hour or two, was four months and three days, in fact the winter was almost over.
"Miranda, why?"
"Why what mom?" My voice sounded very raspy, probably because of the four months of not talking with a tube down my throat.
"Why'd you leave school that day?"
"Because Carly was being mean, I just didn't want to deal with it that day. I didn't know doing that could kill me." I sat up in the bed. I felt tired.
"Could you hear me?"
"Yes. I could hear you, and I was talking to you, but you didn't hear."
"You weren't talking."
"I was, and I was sqeezing too. It all seems like a dream now."
"Hey Miranda. Feeling better?" The doctor walked in. "I never expected you'd come back." He poked at my legs. "Can you feel this?" I nodded. He stood up, "I'm concerned about the amount of time you were in the comma."
"Why?" Mom asked for me.
"She may not remember nessesary things, time to start over and learn how to walk again." He helped me up, "Let's see if you remember. The second my weight was pushed upon my feet, I fell. Mom and the doctor lifted me up. I was barly supporting myself. I turned towards dad, looking scared. Would I ever walk again?
"Take a step Miranda." Dad urged. I lifted and lifted, but just like in the comma, nothing happened.
"I can't!"
"You can,"
"No, I can't. I really can't!"
"That's OK Miranda." The doctor helped me back to the bed. "We'll try again tomorrow." I lay back in the bed and fell asleep crying. I didn't know if I'd ever walk again.
CH 4
"Hey Miranda, long time no see." Mr.Girth walked in the hospital room. It was a rainy sunday morning and mom and dad were at church.
"Hi." I sat up in the bed. It took great effort. I was suddenly concious of the state of my hair. I reached up and touched my head to push the hair back and flatten it out.
"You've been the topic of the school."
"Really?" I had a hard time believeing that.
"Uh huh. Carly's said she's really sorry about what she said that day."
"Oh yeah." I said, remembering the rude remarks that drove me home that day.
"Jason was the one who hit you. He'd been stuck in that traffic jam too, only he didn't drive around it. He said he was speeding when he hit you."
"How's he?" I suspected that he would've had the same prognosis. But then I remebered the figure standing before me asking if I was all right. That figure did look remarkably like Jason.
"Fine, A day in the hospital and he was fine. They just wanted to make sure he was all right. He was." He stood there just looking weird. "So, when are you being discharged?"
"Tomorrow." I was glad for that. Then started physical therapy.
"Will you go back to school?"
"Next week."
"I'll be looking forward to seeing you!" And he left the room just as mom and dad entered. They exchanged strange glances and carried on. For the rest of the day, I thought about leaving this place, and dreaded going back to school.
