Page 54 of See You in Your Dreams

“That’s ridiculous,” Ash says, glaring after the retreating nurse. “What do they think we’re going to do, throw a goddamn party in there?”

“It’s not his fault—he’s probably just following standard hospital procedure.” I sigh. “I guess I should’ve known better than to visit her so soon. We’ll just have to wait and try to see her again once she’s out of the ICU.”

Footsteps echo off the polished hospital tiles. “Excuse me, but did you boys say you’re here to visit Greta?”

I look over to find the older man and woman who’d passed us standing there. Judging by their rumpled clothes and the heavy bags under their eyes, they’ve been here awhile.

“We are,” I say cautiously. “Do you know her?”

The man’s haggard grin oozes exhaustion. “You could say that. We’ve known her all her life.” He holds out a hand. “Pete Mathers. And this is my wife, Julia.”

I take his hand, suddenly feeling awkward at intruding on what must be one of the worst days of their lives. From the way Ash hangs back, his shoulders hunching, I assume he feels the same.

“Sorry to barge in like this,” I say once introductions are complete. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Not at all,” Mrs. Mathers says. Her kind smile reminds me of Greta’s, sending a ripple of sorrow through my chest. “It’s good to know there are other people out there who care about Greta like we do.”

Her voice trembles, and her husband rests a hand on the small of her back. He sneaks a furtive look toward the ICU. “Rules or not, I’m certain Greta would appreciate the company, even if she’s still out from her surgery. Come.”

Gesturing for us to follow, he walks past the station where the nurse had stopped us, his wife in tow. The other doctors and nurses ignore them.

I hesitate, glancing at Ash.

Ash shrugs. “Guess I’m not the only one who thought that policy was bullshit,” he says, following after the Mathers.

Rolling my eyes, I join him.

Mr. Mathers pauses outside a closed door about halfway down the ward. Though the door and walls are all made of glass, drawn curtains block line of sight.

“Here she is,” Mr. Mathers says, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat. “We’ll wait out here. Please, take as much time as you need.”

Murmuring my thanks, I carefully open the door so that Ash and I can slip inside. Despite having the blessing of Greta’s parents, it feels like we’re doing something wrong, entering some kind of forbidden zone.

The room is small, with barely enough space for a bed, a counter, and all the equipment. Two doors at the far end open onto a bathroom and closet, respectively. Beeping instruments monitor Greta’s vitals, their blinking lights slicing through the dimness.

Greta herself lies in the bed, hooked up to a tangle of multicolored wires. Drawn sheets cover most of her body, though by the lumps underneath, I can tell she’s wearing several casts. Her exposed face is mottled by purple bruises and laced with angry red gashes. Bandages swath the left side of her head.

“She looks like shit,” Ash says, echoing my own thoughts.

It’s worse than I expected, seeing one of my classmates so frail and broken. My vision blurs as a wave of grief claws at me. Something like this never should have happened, especially to someone so kind and good.

“Hi, Greta,” I manage, choking the words past my clogged throat. “Ash and I just wanted to…to see how you were doing.”

Silence save the monotonous beeping. Greta doesn’t stir, her eyes firmly shut and her body as still as a corpse. If not for the instruments monitoring her, I might’ve worried she’d already passed.

Come on, Dylan, keep it together.

I take a deep breath, swiping at my eyes. “Everyone at school misses you. We’re all rooting for you to come back soon. Alexis is going to get her church to help out your parents however they can, so you don’t need to worry about them. And I’ll make sure to keep track of the work you missed and take copious notes. You just focus on healing and leave everything else to us.”

For a moment, I think I spot her arm shifting, and I hold my breath.A trick of the light, I tell myself when nothing else happens, my stomach sinking.

I turn toward Ash, who’s been standing quietly beside me so far, tension roiling off him in waves. “Anything you want to add, Ash?”

A shudder racks Ash’s back as he stares at Greta, not blinking for several long seconds. Then, he abruptly spins and stalks toward the door, his hands balling into fists.

“Ash? What—?”

I cut off as he barrels out into the ICU. Hurrying to keep up with him, I mutter a hasty thank you to the Mathers as I follow Ash down the hall and out of the ward. I wait until we’ve exited the hospital to grab his shoulder and jerk him to a halt.