Kris spent the next little while looking around in confusion. It took her forever (at least it seemed like forever) for her to realize this white building she was in with doctors and nurses walking around in it must be a hospital. And then that was all she knew about anything. Why was her head throbbing? What had the doctors and nurses been talking about when they said that two people got into a bad car crash that were her and Junior but couldn't be her and Junior because one of them had a jockey's license? And most importantly of all, where WAS Junior?
"Hello? I'm here to see Kris Furillo."
Kris nearly sighed with relief when she heard the familiar voice. She opened her mouth to call him over to her but nothing would come out. Her head hurt too much for her to think straight let alone talk.
"What's your name?"
"Pablo Betart."
"I'm afraid you can't see her, sir. Family only."
"I am her family."
"Family here means only blood relatives, spouses, and in-laws. Are you any of those?"
"Yes, she's my niece," Pablo lied, knowing that when it came down to it, Kris had none of the above.
"But you have a different last name."
"She was my sister's daughter," said Pablo. "Besides, I'm listed as her emergency contact. You called me."
"Let me check. Yes."
A new voice entered the conversation. "Is he Kris Furillo's family?"
"Yes."
"Hi, I'm Dr. Benson."
"Pablo Betart."
"I assume you've already been told that Kris was in a bad car accident."
"Yes."
"The good news is that she's come out fairly unscathed. She suffered a concussion, but that should only take a few weeks to recover from. We initially thought that her arm was broken, but it was just fractured."
"What's the bad news?" said Pablo.
There was a pause. "The other person in the car with her-Junior Davis-arrived DOA."
Another pause. Kris's mind started racing. DOA...what did that even mean? She knew it usually meant "dead on arrival," but this was Junior they were talking about. He wasn't dead. No way. He was probably taking the porshe to a mechanic to get fixed or something.
"Oh, no," said Pablo. "Does she know?"
"Not yet. Keep it that way until she's been awake for a while."
"Hello?" Kris heard another familiar voice not nearly as pleasant to hear as Pablo's, but sounded much more worried. "I'm here to see Junior Davis."
Kris desperately wished that Pablo would come in and tell her what was going on. She had never felt so confused in her entire life. People needed to stop acting like Junior was dead. He couldn't be...could he?
"Mr. Davis," said the doctor mournfully. "We were unable to revive your son. I'm so sorry." A pause. "You'll need to come this way so that you can identify him."
Kris heard nothing for a moment but footsteps. Suddenly, she felt terrified. She was desperately clinging now to the thought that the doctors must be mistaken because they had also thought that she had her jockey's license.
"You can go in and see Kris now," said the doctor, apparently to Pablo. "It would help if she could recall some details of the accident, but we won't pressure her since she's still on pain medication for her arm and isn't really thinking clearly at the moment. We would, however, like to give back some of her belongings that were found in the vehicle."
A few seconds later, Kris heard Pablo say, "Her overnight bag? I didn't know they were taking a trip. Hey...wait a minute." He paused. "When did they decide to reinstate her jockeys' license?"
Kris's whole body froze. Her chest and throat tightened. A few seconds later, she fainted.