A/N: Alright, readers, in advance, I apologize.


If Thursday night had started a fight between Mike and Tina, it was over by the time third period ended on Friday. I caught sight of them stepping out of their shared Biology class, hand in hand. Because I was already headed the same way myself, I had no choice but to follow several paces behind as Mike walked Tina to her next destination.

I watched in complete agony as she raised herself up on tip-toe to give him a quick kiss before disappearing into her classroom. This time, the brief moment of flirtation hadn't been meant for my eyes. It was hard to decide what was worse. I wheeled myself into a corner and froze, willing Mike to walk past without seeing me. To my relief, he passed right on by without looking down at me. When the coast was clear, I wheeled myself into my Calculus class, certain that I was going to fall behind today. There was no way I'd be able to focus on the lesson with that image in my mind.

After Calculus, it was time for lunch, but I was too upset to watch the two of them together again. I ended up telling Kurt that I felt sick to my stomach, but he couldn't leave it alone. "I'll take you to the nurse," he offered, frowning worriedly.

"No, it's not like that," I tried to tell him. "It's… just that I don't feel like… eating, that's all. I think I'm going to go to the choir room and lie down on those mattresses. We still have a few of them in the closet, remember? Mr. Schue didn't know what to do with them."

Kurt was smart enough to see through my phony excuse, but kind enough not to call me out on it. He simply insisted that I have something available to eat in case I changed my mind and gave me the sack lunch he'd brought along, pretending that he actually wanted to buy the cafeteria's lunch today. I gratefully accepted it before escaping to spend lunch alone in the choir room. Kurt Hummel was a really good friend.

I didn't see Mike until the end of the day, and I was happy to talk to him as long as Tina wasn't around. He approached me while I was waiting outside the school for Mom to pick me up. "First week's always the longest," he remarked, conversationally. "Hey, I wanted to tell you that I know I made at least a B on that test today. I really appreciate the tutoring, man."

"It was no trouble," I told him, with a smile. "I'm glad I could help."

"Is your stomach okay?" he asked, looking concerned, and I figured Kurt had to tell them all something.

"Better now," I assured him, and he continued to look slightly curious. I wished I'd given Kurt some other excuse to tell them. The more time people tended to spend analyzing the possible consequences of paralysis in terms of digestion, the more embarrassing their questions became. Luckily, Mike said nothing more about it.

"There's my ride," I announced, as Mom pulled up next to the curb and began lowering the lift for me. "See you tonight!" We exchanged a quick wave and I wheeled off hurriedly, knowing that there was a lot to do before the party tonight.

First stop, Save-A-Lot. I'd gotten the official word from Puck at the end of the day. He casually told me that he'd be late, but he'd stop by. I figured I ought to plan on Puck eating so I told Mom we'd have six guys. Considering that four of those guys were huge football players, it really looked like enough food for twelve. By the time we'd finished, we'd loaded up a cart with chips, sodas, cookies, popcorn, and fruit. Shopping took nearly two hours because the grocery store was so busy.

When we tried to get back on I-75 to go home, however, we quickly realized that something was wrong. Traffic on the entrance ramp was so backed up that we could hardly merge into it. I could see my mother's knuckles were already turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. It wasn't hard to guess what she was thinking about.

When my accident happened, I was lucky in the sense that I lost the entire day. I don't even remember getting up that morning or doing anything, even though the accident took place around 2:00 in the afternoon on a Saturday. I'm told that Mom and I were hit while trying to exit I-75 on our way home from running a few errands. It was years before Mom could bring herself to take the highway. For the longest time, she took strange routes to avoid it altogether.

Witnessing another accident on this highway was going to set her back, I just knew it. She'd surely be reverting to her old routes for at several weeks, at the least. I reached over to run my hand up and down her shoulder reassuringly. She glanced over at me and forced a smile, but quickly turned somber as she said, "We need to pray for the victims of the accident that just took place."

As I've mentioned before, my family isn't terribly religious. We went to church a lot right after my accident because the church we'd visited from time to time was very supportive, providing plenty of food to feed my dad and sister while Mom was spending all of the time she wasn't working with me the hospital and then in rehab.

But whenever we came up on a car accident, we would wind up praying. I wish we could just pray at meal time like normal religious families, but that apparently isn't our style. I obliged, bowing my head and shutting my eyes. Mom was driving us so she couldn't shut her eyes, but she began to pray out loud. I echoed everything she was saying in my mind: "Dear Heavenly Father, we ask that you be with the victim or victims of this accident. Please heal their injuries and help their loved ones. Amen."

"Amen," I said, opening my eyes. I squinted, seeing that traffic ahead of us seemed to be picking up. As we drove, it slowed down again because people were gawking at the accident. I couldn't help but imagine myself on the other side of this scene, as I once had been, being loaded into the ambulance.

As we approached, however, the ambulance was already speeding off, its siren blaring as it headed for the hospital. I was left to look at the remnants of the car, which had apparently run off the road and hit the guard rail. My jaw tightened as I craned my neck to get a better look, aware that I was guilty of the same nosy curiosity as the rest of the people slowing down traffic.

What I saw made me sick.

"Mom," I said, weakly, as we passed the enormous old Bronco, barely recognizable in its wrecked state. "That was my friend, Mike."

Things happened quickly after that. First, we needed to make a call and although I couldn't bring myself to do it, I handed my phone to Mom and instructed her to call Mr. Schuester. I just needed an adult to handle rounding up all of Mike's friends. I couldn't imagine calling Matt. Couldn't imagine calling Tina. I didn't know how badly Mike had been hurt, but judging from the looks of his Bronco, it didn't look good.

After getting in touch with Mr. Schuester, we had a difficult time getting to the next exit and getting off the highway. Mom, already back in paranoid mode, wouldn't go the opposite direction on the highway to get to the hospital so we wound up taking the backstreets to get there. Neither of us spoke the entire way there. I wanted to throw up as I thought about what I'd just seen. Was that how Mom felt, having memories of what happened to us? I'd never wanted to know what that felt like.

Mr. Schuester made it to the hospital before we did because he lived nearby. He hugged my mom, who looked about as pale as a ghost as we entered the emergency room waiting area. I was certain that I didn't look much better. Mr. Schue had already been able to find out that Mike had been taken into emergency surgery, that he was not in good shape, and that his parents and little sister were on their way.

I was relieved that Mr. Schue was with us when the Changs arrived because neither Mom nor I was in any place to offer comfort and support. Mom calmed down enough to tend to my friends as they arrived, but I stayed put next to the chairs, unable to say anything to them as they filed in. I'd never seen Matt Rutherford cry, but that was what he was doing as soon as he entered the ER, supported on either side by Puck and Finn.

After what seemed like ages, Tina came running down the hallway, a streak of black and blue as she ran into the arms of Mr. Schue. Kurt and Mercedes huddled together, and the four of them became very still as Mercedes appeared to be leading them in a prayer. Quietly, Matt separated himself from Puck and Finn to join the huddle.

My accident changed my whole life. There was no way I'd ever wish such consequences on another person, especially not Mike Chang. What if Mike never danced again? He'd only just worked up the nerve to dance outside of the confines of his bedroom. I knew, from what I'd read, that the majority of spinal cord injuries resulted in quadriplegia, not paraplegia, as mine had been. What if Mike couldn't use his hands? What if he needed help to breathe? There were worse things than dying, and there were certainly worse things than losing the use of your legs. I didn't know what to pray for, but as I watched Mercedes lead the others in prayer, it seemed like the only thing we could do right now.

A door swung open as a doctor stepped out. He approached the Changs and, although we couldn't hear what was said, we all knew what had happened by watching his family's reaction. Mrs. Chang collapsed into her husband's arms, crying loudly. My eyes landed on the six-year-old sister who stood helplessly, clinging to her father's hand while staring straight ahead, a mixture of sadness and confusion etched across her tiny face. She looked at me, in a moment I realized I'd never forget.

And just like that, Mike was gone.