A/N: Another short chapter.
Joanne blinked.
"Oh, thank God," came a voice. Mimi and Roger were standing over her.
"Meems, Rog, what...?"
"Maureen called us, sent us here to you. You were knocked out. Mo wasn't here. We don't know where she is."
"Oh my God!" Joanne began panicking at the news that Maureen was missing. "We have to find her!"
"I know! Mark and Lauren are looking already." Mimi told her.
"Okay. What about Collins?"
"He's looking too."
"Okay, calm down, Joanne," Joanne breathed to herself. "We'll find her, she's okay..." Her breathing evened out and she stood. "Let's go look."
5 hours later...
Joanne's phone rang.
"Joanne Jefferson."
"Jo, it's Mark..." Mark said.
"Give me the phone, you hold her a minute!" hissed Lauren in the background. "Hey, Jo, it's Lauren. We found Mo... we need your help."
"I'm on my way." Joanne took off.
"Oh my God, Maureen!" screamed Joanne, looking at the pale girl's mangled body. Her thin face was bruised and her arms were bleeding. Her legs were the most startling - twisted in ways you wouldn't think were possible. Her crutches had disappeared, and her wheelchair was still back at her house. Joanne, not one to cry, fell to her knees and rolled Maureen onto her back, burying her face in Maureen's very messy French braid.
"We didn't want to move her," whispered Lauren, her mascara streaky. She had Mark's jacket over her shoulders, Mark was sort of hugging her and leaning on her in a way that made it look like he was falling onto her. He was catching all of this on his camera.
"Mark, put that thing away," hissed Joanne, her fingers stroking Maureen's cold face, gently brushing gravel and dirt away from open cuts, her fingers soon sticky with blood. She closed her eyes.
"Lauren?" she asked, her bloodied fingers hovering over the ground.
"Yeah?" the blonde asked. Her voice was choked.
"Get my phone out of my pocket and call an ambulance."
Lauren reached into Joanne's coat pocket, pulled out the lawyer's cell phone, and called for an ambulance as she was told.