I bolt up with a start. Someone’s shaking me. It’s so dark, I can’t tell if my eyes are open or not. I’m not even sure I’m awake until I feel a sticky hand on my face and realize it’s Elliot.
“I need my puffer, Ria.” His breathing sounds like chalk squeaking across a blackboard.
I’m wide awake now. “Okay,” I say in the most reassuring voice I can come up with. “Okay. Don’t worry.”
Why didn’t I bring his puffer? He’s used it three times a day for his entire life. What was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking. Or at least I wasn’t thinking of him.
I get out of bed and stand in the doorway.
Relax, I tell myself. Elliot gets asthma attacks all the time. Lots of kids do. He hasn’t died yet. He’ll be fine.
How do I know that? This might be the one time he isn’t.
What if something happened to Elliot? My heartbeats rattle off like machine-gun fire.
What do I do, Dad?
“Don’t fret about your problems. Fix them.”
I’ve got about twenty-five bucks. I’ll go into town and buy him a puffer. It’s not that hard.
I look outside. It’s dark and still pouring. I have no idea what time it is. It could be midnight, or it could be 4:00 am.
I can’t take Elliot. The rain will just make him worse.
I can’t leave him here either. He’d be terrified.
And anyway, how much do puffers cost?
What if I need a prescription?
I’ll have to find a doctor. I’ll have to make up a fake name.
I turn and look back into the cabin. It’s too dark to see Elliot, but I can hear him breathe. He sounds like a rocking chair with a squeaky joint.
I don’t have a choice. I’ve got to call somebody for help.
Sophie.
Could I trust her?
I don’t know. It’s too dangerous.
That thing—the Kid’s Helpline. It just pops into my head. I remember the commercial. They don’t make you give your name. They’ll know what to do.
I fumble back across the room. I stub my toe hard against the bed, but don’t swear. I deserve the pain. I crawl onto the mattress and rub my hands over the blanket. I find my phone hidden under my purse and turn it on.
The screen lights up: 5:40 am. Well, there’s one question answered. It won’t be long before daybreak.
I’ve got ten more messages. Six are from Mom. Three are from “Private Caller.”
One is from Dad.