Cassie races to the hospital, but instead of seeing Lindsey, she runs into the absolute worst person possible.

The bitter smell of disinfectant hits me like a punch as I walk into the emergency room lobby. It’s full, but doesn’t feel particularly busy—no one is rushing around or shouting things like “Stat!”

It took me three bus transfers and almost two hours to get here. My mom and dad know I had auditions today, but I should have been home by now. I’ll have to call them soon so they don’t worry.

Scanning the lobby, which is filled with red vinyl and chrome chairs, I spot Lindsey’s mom, Beverly Connor, nervously picking at a white Kleenex.

I take a step that way, but stop. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in so long. What if she doesn’t even remember me?

Well. She does.

Mrs. Connor happens to look my direction, and when she does, the surprise is clear on her face.

I can see her prepare to get up out of her seat, but the place is so packed, I’d hate for her to lose it. I quickly walk over to her so she won’t lose the chair.

“Mrs. Connor?”

“Cassie,” she says, rising and opening her arms even as her expression is confused. “What on earth? How did you—how are you?”

I return her hug before she sits back down. “I was at school. I didn’t see it happen, but I was there when the paramedics came. Is she okay?”

Mrs. Connor presses the tissue to her mouth. “I don’t know. I don’t know. They said she didn’t have any apparent head injury, so that’s good. But her legs, her back…”

“Is it…bad?”

“I don’t know yet. They’re imaging right now. But they wouldn’t let me back in there, they said it would just be a few minutes, it’s been hours, she’s alone.”

I hunker down and balance on my toes so we’re more eye to eye. “What can I do?”

She looks at me. “Do you have a car?”

“No, I’m sorry. I took the bus. What do you need?”

“It’s Tony,” she says, as tears start to trickle from the corners of her eyes. “He doesn’t know, I have to call him, pick him up…I just couldn’t think straight enough to find a phone…”

Crap. Tony is Lindsey’s little brother, a freshman this year. He’s on the younger side, too. He has a one of those birthdays that makes him either one of the oldest or one of the youngest in his class. I remember when Mrs. Connor put him in pre-school, because she couldn’t afford the day care at the time. Mr. Connor had bailed on the family by then. A real gem.

I glance around the packed room. “Are you sure? What I mean is, would that really be helpful? I can call him, so you don’t lose your seat.”

Mrs. Connor looks supremely confused as I say this. Then I realize she’s no longer looking at me, but over my shoulder.

“Jesse?” she says.

I pivot on my toes.

Yep. Jesse Redding is walking toward us, so sweaty he looks like he just climbed out of a swimming pool. He’s carrying his board by the trucks. He gives me one death glare before reaching us and putting a hand on Mrs. Connor’s shoulder.

“She okay?” are his first words.

I stand and cross my arms. What in the fun and righteous hell is he doing here?

Mrs. Connor stands and hugs him like he did me, apparently unmindful of the sweat on his face or staining his shirt.

He must have skated the entire way here from Camelback.

Mrs. Connor pulls away. Her eyes go from him to me and back a few times.

“Quite the reunion,” she says with a sniffle. “Where have you all been?”

Jesse and I trade scowls.

“Just, around,” I say.

“Yeah,” Jesse agrees.

We make sure to look at anything besides each other.

“Well,” Mrs. Connor says, “Lindsey will be glad to know you were here. I hope—”

She cuts herself off with a sad hiccup of a laugh.

“I hope a lot of things,” she finishes, and sits back down.

“Where’s Tony?” Jesse asks.

“We were just talking about him,” Mrs. Connor says. “He doesn’t know yet. I have to call him.”

“I’ll do it,” I say quickly. “I can call.”

“It should really be me,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “I just wish he could be here. Except you’re right, Cass, he probably shouldn’t. It won’t do anyone any good. But I don’t want him home alone, either.”

At the exact same time, Jesse and I say:

“I’ll go.”

And glare at each other again.

“Oh, would you?” Mrs. Connor looks at us both. “That would mean the world to him. And to me. And Lindsey—”

She can’t hold it any longer, and cries into the tissue.

“Look, I’ll go to the house,” I say. “I’ll stay with Tony.”

“I’ve got it,” Jesse snaps. “He hangs out with us.”

By “us” he means the skate punks who loiter in the Commons. I point to his deck. “I can get there faster.”

“What, on the bus?”

I answer without thinking: “Brian.”

Of course, I have not actually asked my brother to come pick up at Good Sam and then drive my ass all the way to the Connor’s place. But he’ll do it, I know he will.

If he’s home.

“Whatever,” Jesse mutters. To Mrs. Connor, he says, “Lindsey’ll be okay. I know it. She’s bad-ass.”

Mrs. Connor offers a sad smile through her tears. “Thank you, Jesse.”

“Sure thing,” Jesse says. And with one last clandestine scowl at me, he heads for the automatic glass doors.

“I’m going to call my brother and get a ride,” I say. “We should be there pretty soon. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Connor. I know she’ll be okay.”

“Thank you, Cass. I hope so.”

We give each other another hug, and I follow Jesse out to the sidewalk.

He’s tangled up for a moment in a crowd of people rushing into the E.R. One woman is panic-stricken and holding a screaming baby. I hurry to get out of their way, and wind up bumping right into Jesse the way he banged into me before auditions.

“Watch it,” he barks.

“Whatever,” I snap back.

Shaking his head, he drops his board to the concrete and steps aboard.

Sheesh. It’s going to take him hours to skate all that way.

But, honestly…knowing Jesse…he’ll do it.

Crossing my arms tightly across my chest, I say, “Want a ride?”

Jesse turns to me, shocked and dismayed. “With you? Hell, no.”

“With Brian,” I say, leaning forward at the waist. “Dumb ass.”

He ignores my insult and is clearly considering my offer, which, let’s be frank, I shouldn’t have even made.

But while Jesse Redding is stupid on a number of levels, skating miles and miles in the Phoenix heat versus getting a ride in a car isn’t lost on him.

He can be stubborn or he can be comfortable.

Enjoying him struggle with the decision, I straighten up and point to a bank of pay phones. “I’m calling Brian now. You can make up your mind when he gets here, I guess. Or just enjoy the weather.”

I spin and march to the pay phones without a look back.