shaking me. I wondered how this all fit into my daydream, but a thick layer of cobweb had settled over my mind. On and on, someone continued calling my name and shaking my shoulder. I wanted to tell them to stop; it was extremely aggravating. But for some reason my lips didn’t seem to want to cooperate.
Again, someone called my name. This time I noticed that the voice sounded vaguely familiar. And in a good way, too. It induced a very pleasant sensation somewhere in the pit of my stomach.
I pushed my way through the cobwebs, my eyelids the first body parts to respond to my commands. They opened to a scene that dipped and swayed and doubled. I closed them, counted to ten then opened them again. This time my vision was clearer, though I suspected that I might still be daydreaming. The handsome face of none other than Stephen Fitchco hovered over me, his sandy eyebrows pinched together in a worried frown over clear blue eyes.
“Carson! Carson!” It was his voice. And he knew my name!
“What?”
Stephen let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. “Thank God you’re ok,” he said.
Ok? What’s that supposed to mean? I thought. Then I noticed that Stephen’s head was framed by blue sky. Just then, the sting of gravel biting into my back penetrated my brain. Then I remembered the black Honda.
“Am I dead?”
“What? Dead?”
“I must be dead. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” I reasoned.
He chuckled. “Well, you’re not dead. Can you move?”
Good question. First I tried to wiggle my toes. To my intense relief, they moved inside the confines of my tennis shoes. Whew! No spinal damage. I wiggled my fingers and shrugged my shoulders. Everything seemed to be in working order.
“Yes.”
Stephen smiled a handsome smile that made me feel pretty and special, two things I didn’t feel very often. “Good. Let me help you sit up.”
Stephen slipped one arm under my shoulders and grabbed my hand with his other then gently urged me into a sitting position. My head swam dizzily.
“Wh-what happened?”
“You nearly got run over.”
“But I didn’t?”
“Uh, no,” he said, his voice adopting a strange tone that caused me to look over at him.
“Then wh- how—” I trailed off.
“I’m not really sure how you did it, but you, like, jumped on the hood of my car then sort of ran across the top and fell off the back I think.”
Well, that didn’t sound like something I’d do at all. And surely I would remember such an amazing feat.
“Hmm” was my only response.
“It was actually pretty cool,” he said, his admiration obvious.
“Hmm,” I said again, though I liked the admiration.
“You don’t remember any of that?”
“No.”
“What do you remember?”
“A horn. And seeing a black Honda’s grill coming toward me.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Maybe you should get checked out. You might have hit your head when you fell.”
At that moment I was far too enamored of him to dwell on his idiotic statement. I was lying in the middle of the street and I’d obviously been unconscious. Of course I’d hit my head. Duh!
“Hmm,” was all I said for the third time, still not yet fully engaged in reality.
“You know, maybe I should take you to the hospital. Just to be sure you’re alright.”
That got my attention. “No. I’m fine. Really.” To prove my point, I pushed myself to my feet then promptly fell into Stephen when the world tilted on its axis.
“You don’t seem ‘fine’.”
“Well, I am.”
“At least let me give you a ride home.”
Extend my fantasy a little longer? I was all for that. “Okay,” I said without a moment’s hesitation.
“Come on,” he said, pulling me snugly against his side and guiding me around his car to the passenger side.
After helping me in, Stephen climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. Music heavily laden with guitar and drums blasted through the speakers.
“Sorry,” Stephen said, smiling sheepishly and turning the volume down.
I simply smiled in return. I could offer no commentary on his musical selection. That was yet another item that made my father’s “silly” list and was, therefore, deemed a waste of my time. For the millionth time, I mourned the death of my youth. I felt like I’d barely lived at all. Oh, how I longed for some excitement, some meaning, some importance to life.
On the short ride home, I absorbed as much detail as I could about the scene inside the Honda. Knowing I’d likely not have the chance again, I memorized the smell of Stephen’s