Tyler Connell was sitting on the couch in the EMS station at four thirty on Thursday afternoon, which was the usual for a sixteen-year-old Emergency Medical Technician—which was precisely what the football player was, along with Hank Beecham, Jamie Waite, and Val Linear. Which is not the point. The point is, he was sitting on the couch. And that Val wasn't there.

"Where is she?" Hank asked for the seventh time. Of course, Jamie had asked eight, but once more and they'd be tied. Tyler was counting.

"Yeah, where is she?" inquired a spiky-headed teen who, for once, didn't have detention.

Nine seven, Jamie's favor was the next thought Tyler had. And then he figured he should probably answer before it turned into an hour-long thing.

"I don't know, probably being her bouncy self at cheerleader practice. Jamie, isn't it your turn to do inventory?"

A Mini-Val named Brooke Linear (who actually didn't look like a Mini-Val at all) came into the room with a stack of papers.

"I'm glad you think like me, Tyler," she announced with pride. "Now you only have nine cases to file."

"Isn't that your job?" complained Tyler. None of them had joined to fill out forms. Well, except Jamie, who had to join, and Brooke, but Brooke was the exception to every rule…

"Hank has thirteen," commented Brooke, greeted with a groan courtesy of Beecham himself, "and Jamie has fifteen."

"Fifteen?!" Jamie yelled.

"I have an extra few you could handle if you really want," said Brooke. "But I get the feeling that's not your dream."

"I'll take fifteen."

The alarm went off.

"Sorry, paperwork will have to wake," said Hank. "We've got a call. Sixteen-year-old female, Kingsport High. Fell down flight of stairs, has a fractured tibia and bruised metacarpals. She also took a blow to the mandible and clavicle. The call was reported by her best friend, Caitie."

Tyler paled. "Caitie?"

Hank looked at him. "Yes, sixteen-year-old… oh my God."

"Let's go," said Jamie. "Sounds like Val might have taken it pretty bad."

"Wait—wait—there are lots of Katies, right? I mean, there are lots of spellings, and—"

"Tyler, we all know you have a crush on Val, but you can't let feelings get in the way," reminded Hank as they ran to the ambulance.

"What crush?"

"Hank, it's all right," called Jamie. The black-haired young man let his brown eyes twinkle. "Tyler's the only one who doesn't know he likes her."

*

Tyler had never driven so fast. True, Hank and Jamie probably made a mistake letting him drive, but they did get there in record time. But no one was prepared for what to come…