Mary didn't remember the ride to the hospital.

She didn't recall going into the emergency room or the x-rays.

She didn't register anything until she heard her mother's voice.

"I want the name of that *&$# bus driver!"

Mom threw in a few more profanities for good measure as she threatened to sue the entire public transportation industry.

Several nurses had to calm her down before they let her in to see Mary. The hysteria on Mom's face melted into tears as she ran to her.

"Mary!"

Mary hadn't realized how stiff she had been until she was in her mother's arms.

For the first time since the accident, Mary found her words.

“It was my fault."

Mom shook her head. "It's okay, Sweetie. You don't have to—"

Mary looked in her mother’s eyes. "It’s not okay. It was my fault. I wasn’t looking.”

Mom stared at her, like her own brain was trying to come out of a fog. At last, she held her close again.

“You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

A little while later, the attending doctor came with Mary's x-rays.

“Good news. For getting hit with the side of a car, you're doing remarkably well, Mary."

"You'll have some aches from the bruises. I can prescribe an antibiotic gel to help keep those scrapes on your hands and knees from getting infected." He turned to Mom. "It might be good to keep her home for a couple days to rest."

"Of course." Mom used that professional voice she reserved for doctors.

"What about the kid the red car?" Mary asked. “Is he...is he all right?”

The doctor looked grim.

"I'm sorry. He didn't make it."

Mary stared at him. "But he looked at me."

Mom and the doctor exchanged confused glances.

Mary looked down at her bandaged hands, trying hard to remember.

A lot of details still weren't clear, but she did remember Carter opening his eyes. If only for a quick moment.

"C-can I see him?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Mom said.

Mary closed her hands into fists. The cuts under the bandages stung.

“Please."

Mom's brow wrinkled. Then, she sighed. "We can see if his parents will allow it."

The doctor released her, and Mary left the room with her mother.

In the waiting room, they saw a couple speaking with one of the ER surgeons. The woman cried. The man held her to keep her from falling apart.

"I'm very sorry Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell," the surgeon said.

"We're not the Maxwells," the man said. "I'm Marcos Romero, and this is my wife Linda. We're their housekeepers. Carter's father and stepmother are out of the country right now."

"I see," the doctor said. "Have either of you contacted his parents? Or his mother?"

"I called and left a message for Mr. Maxwell," Mr. Romero said. "Carter's mother passed away years ago from cancer."

Mrs. Romero wailed.

Mary wished that she could cry with her. Mom once joked that Mary was born with the tiniest tear ducts in the world. She rarely cried, even as a baby.

Mary looked at her mother, who nodded.

Cautiously, she approached them. "Excuse me. I'm Mary. I'm the…what I mean is…."

She couldn't find the right thing to say. Mary had always been terrible with words. Especially the sensitive ones needed for situations like this.

Mrs. Romero looked at the state of her school uniform and her bandaged injuries. "You were the girl who was almost hit by the bus.”

"Are you all right?" Mr. Romero asked, his face and voice filled with concern.

Mary nodded. "I am, thank you. But...I was wondering if I could see him? Carter, I mean."

"I would advise against that," the surgeon said. "The body…I mean Carter…is not—"

"Please," Mary begged.

The Romeros looked at one another.

At last, Mrs. Romero nodded. "Let her.”