4- "Will You Be Here?"

3 MONTHS LATER ...

The fluorescent lights flew by above, on the ceiling. Nurses and doctors leaned over, inspecting.

"Can you hear me? You're going to be okay, Miss Whitacre..."

Greg was dancing to music playing in the lab, having recently just gotten his cast off. He sashayed towards CODIS, where Sara sat searching for leads in the jewelry store robbery she was investigating.

"You're crazy. They should've put you in a full body cast, just so we wouldn't be subjected to your horrible dance moves." Sara said offhandedly. CODIS beeped in a helpful way, displaying a fingerprint and mug shots. She tapped on the screen and said, "Yes! Gotcha!"

She stood up and saw Greg dancing the Macarena.

"Excuse me, Mr. Astaire, but I have a criminal I need to arrest."

He bowed her out and smiled as he logged her off CODIS. The song ended, and in the silence his cell phone rang.

He turned off the boom box and answered it with a "Greg here."

"Uh, Mr. Sanders?" The voice on the other end came from a busy place.

"Yes?" He asked, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

"Do you know an Arianna Whitacre?"

"Yes..." He said, sitting down on a chair to spin himself in circle.

"She was recently involved in a car crash."

Greg stopped the spin abruptly.

"What?" Greg said, standing up, "But... when? Where? How is she?"

"Sir, what is your relationship to her?"

"I'm a..." He paused to consider his answer, "-friend..." He nervously looked around, then again asked, "How is she?"

"Sir, we need you at the hospital right now. Do you know of any family of hers we should contact?"

"Um, no. I... I'm sorry I don't know-" He tripped on a wire as he struggled to put his jacket on. He was so preoccupied he didn't notice. He ran to Grissom's office and said into the phone, "I'll be there was soon as I can." He hung up and barged into Grissom's office.

"Griss! I need to go; a friend of mine has just been in a crash." Grissom stood up, shocked at seeing Greg so unglued.

"Fine, take the night off. Keep your cell phone on, though. We might need you."

Greg nodded and ran out into the parking lot and jumped into his new car, and drove quickly into the night.

"As of right now, Mr. Sanders, she is in a coma. She has been using drugs and we suppose that was the cause of the accident." Once again, way too soon, Greg was talking to Dr. Harding again.

"Dru- drugs?" Greg stammered, shocked.

"Yes."

"Why was I called?" Greg asked, voicing the question he had been wondering. Dr. Harding held up her purse.

"Yours was the only phone number available." He held up a cell phone, showing Greg where Arianna had taped his number.

"As for now she is in critical condition. We will call you if there is any news."

"But- but I was just called here. I took off work!"

"Well, Mr. Sanders, it is only 3 o' clock in the morning. You can make it to work." He turned of his heel and left. Greg didn't bother telling him he worked nights.

Greg didn't bother to head back to work, either. In a shock, he took her purse and headed back home.

Days after that came and went. Greg returned to work, but his heart wasn't there. He didn't tell anyone about Ari, but everyone knew he wasn't his usual self.

Three weeks later, Greg was called by the hospital. She had awakened. He drove there as soon as possible and finally headed into her room. He took a deep breath as he observed her from the door frame.

She looked bad. Her eyes were puffy and she acted very groggy. Greg was at a total loss for words, so Arianna spoke first.

"My oh my, what an ironic change of events, eh Greg?" Her voice wasn't as strong as before. He sat down next to her.

"How do you feel?" He asked, feeling kind of stupid.

"Sick to my stomach."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Greg... I... I'm sorry I never called."

Greg smiled warmly, "Well, I would've been fine without ever seeing you again, but you had to go and get into this accident..."

She weakly batted at his shoulder.

"Greg, I'm scared." She said, and Greg immediately sensed her anxiousness. He leaned in, worried.

"Why?"

"I don't remember anything about that day, nevertheless that night. I have missed three weeks of my life. I'm sore all over."

She lowered her voice, "Greg, they said I had taken drugs that night! I would have never taken drugs! This makes no sense. I remember nothing... it is a terrible blankness, like a... well, a 'Dead Zone', like the Stephen King book."

She laid her head back on the pillow, tears streaming down her face. "Drugs. I will never get into Desert Mesa University now. I have an interview with them soon; I guess I can't make it. They were so nice, telling me that they will come to the hospital to grant me an interview. I know they will talk to the doctors."

She looked back at him.

"Greg, I would have never taken drugs. What happened to me that night? I don't know. For all I know, something terrible could have happened. But I'll never know. Concussion." She slowly rubbed her head.

His heart went out to her. He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead, without even thinking beforehand.

"Just sleep now, don't worry about anything."

She looked up at him, "Will you be here when I wake up?"

He smiled, "Of course."

"So we see that algebra is a vital tool for our young people to learn. The traditional method for teaching it, of course, is to require students to solve problems developed in 1928 by the American Association of Mathematics Teachers Obsessed With Fruit. For example: 'If Billy has twice as many apples as Bobby, and Sally has seven more apples than Chester, who has one apple in each hand plus one concealed in his knickers, then how many apples does Ned have, assuming that his train leaves Chicago at noon?'

The problem is that these traditional algebra problems are out of date. Today's young people are dealing with issues such as violence, drugs, sex, eating disorders, stress, low self-esteem, acne, global warming and the demise of Napster."

Dave Barry "X Equals Just About Everything I Learned of Math in School"