Chapter 12
I’m passed from Nigel and Prescott to Belinda—who gives me a soggy and fierce hug—to an EMT. She checks my shoulder, inspects my ribcage, asks about head wounds, and drapes a reflective blanket around me. Then I’m gripped tight, and Sadie’s embrace is so ferocious it pushes the air from my lungs. It feels like a mother’s embrace, like I’m her lost child, and she’ll never let me go again.
It’s only when Arianna joins us that the tears start.
“Oh, ma petite,” she croons. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“But Malcolm—”
“They’re getting him out. I promise you.”
“But—”
“I promise you.”
And as if on cue, as if she commanded it herself, I hear one of the EMTs shout.
“We need a backboard over here!”
I can’t help but whimper. Before she can hush me again, I blurt out, “I’m sorry, I’m
