Chapter 6: The Return of My Super Secret Admirer

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Beep. Beep. Beep.

Ugh, what was that? Blearily, I opened my eyes to the white ceiling above me. My entire body ached, my head pounded, and it felt like a pile of bricks was crushing my chest. Groaning, I relaxed into the pillows behind my head. What had happened?

Car. Crash. Crutches. London. Airport. Airplane. America. New school. Sadie. Statues. Hannah…

Oh. Suddenly, it all came flooding back to me. Explosion, yes.

Shaking, I managed to raise myself into a sitting position, but then a wave of nausea overcame me, and I snatched a blue, plastic basin that was on my bedside table – how convenient.

After I emptied the contents of my already mostly empty stomach – it was basically dry retching – I set the basin back where I'd found it, wrinkling my nose at the smell.

The room was silent – aside from the continuous bleating of the heart monitor, which was, quite frankly, a little annoying. Though, it was reassuring to know that I was alive.

My eyes flickered over to the window. From my vantage point, I could see the overcast sky, promising rain. A hunched figure sat underneath the sill on a hard, plastic chair.

It was my dad. He was sleeping.

And as much as I hated to wake him, I needed answers, so I cleared my throat as loudly as possible. He stirred slightly, sniffed, but otherwise remained the realm of dreams.

"Dad," I whisper-shouted. My voice was hoarse. Again, no response.

Right. Time for a more violent approach.

There was a pad of legal notes also on my bedside table. Reaching through the tubes coming out of my nose, I tore off a sheet and crumpled it into a tight wad. The ball soared through the air easily and bounced off his head.

His eyes snapped open and he lurched out of his chair, arms and legs automatically going into a fighting stance. I merely leaned back against the headboard of the bed and folded my arms, waiting for this to pass.

A few seconds later, he must have realized where he was because he quickly relaxed. "Liam!" he exclaimed, face breaking into an exhausted grin.

"Hi, Dad," I smiled back. "Sorry to wake you, but what happened?"

He groaned, coming over and sitting on the mattress, near my feet. "I'm not sure. The police aren't releasing any details. All I know is that you were involved in a movie theater explosion about –" he checked his watch "– three days ago. Been out cold ever since."

"Oh. Did anybody…?"

"There were nine casualties," he said, not quite meeting my eyes.

"Who?" I asked.

He didn't reply.

"Who?" I demanded, and I could hear my voice shoot up a couple of octaves.

Dad hung his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Liam. Your friend – Hannah didn't make it."

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For a fourteen year old, I've been in this situation too many times. First, my mother. Now, one of my best friends.

Not as bad.

Of course, the two cases were completely different. I mean, my mum was my mum. I'd known her for literally my entire life. She'd raised me, taught me, loved me.

Not as bad.

Hannah was just a girl who I'd known for a couple of months.

Yeah, not as bad, I agreed, but bad enough.

Dad had exited the room about a half-hour ago to "Give me time to think", as he'd put it. Now the only occupants of the closet sized space were me and my good friend, the heart monitor, which was still beeping monotonously in the corner.

A stray tear trickled out of the corner of my tightly-closed eyes. It trailed down my cheek and hit the pillow below with a soft thud. Okay, this was good. At least I was avoiding the amount of tears I'd shed when Mum had… when Mum had gone.

It wasn't fair. Why was this happening to me? I was just a kid. What had I ever done to deserve this? Sure, when I was eleven, I'd stolen a pack of gum from the corner shop, but only because my mates had dared me to. And I'd taken it back once they'd gone home. But other than that, I figured I wasn't really that bad of a person.

I just wanted my mother back.

The door to my room flew open just then, and a certain someone darted in, skidded across the floor, and finally ended up perched at the edge of my bed. After her trailed her own mother and her little brother, Hammy.

"Hi, Sadie," I said in a low voice, frantically scrubbing at my face to remove any signs that would indicate I had cried. "Hi, Mrs. Hooper and Hammy."

I turned my head to look at the two by the door, purposefully avoiding looking at Sadie. Mrs. Hooper smiled slightly at me, toying with the hem of her sweater. Hammy was toting around a stuffed polar bear and gave no indication that he'd heard me. In fact, he seemed unconcerned with what was going on.

I wish I could be him.

"Hello, William," Mrs. Hooper said warmly, approaching my bedside. "H-how are you feeling?"

Shrugging, I replied, "I've been better."

"Sadie had quite a scare when she heard the news," she said, nodding at her daughter. Finally, I shifted to look at her.

Sadie was now crouched on the bed, arms tightly hugging her knees, and she was staring at me with scrunched eyebrows and a look of intense concentration. Ah. Yes. Deducing me.

But the long-winded analysis of minute details never came. Instead, she simply finished up figuring out my facial expressions, slid off the bed, and stepped away.

Mrs. Hooper had been watching her watch me with pursed lips. Maybe that's why Sadie didn't tell me everything I was thinking and then some – she was scared of her mum.

"Anyways, Liam," her mother said, looking back to me when she was satisfied Sadie wasn't going to insult me, "Are you hungry? Hammy wants to go down to the cafeteria, and… and if you'd like, we could bring you back something."

Hammy didn't look like he wanted much of anything, but I nodded, saying, "That would be great, Mrs. Hooper. Thank you."

She smiled again and pulled Hammy out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"What?" I asked. "Aren't you going to… do that thing you do?"

"Nope," she said. "I've changed."

I nodded. Of course she had. "Were you really worried about me?"

She snorted, walking over and collapsing into the chair next to me. "Why would I worry about you?"

Pretending to grimace, I put my hand over my heart. "Ouch. That hurt." Sarcasm was practically dripping from my tone. She rolled her eyes.

"I brought you something." Sadie reached into her pocket and pulled out a slightly crushed white envelope. On the front were the words Mr. William Sherlock Watson.

It looked oddly familiar. "Where'd you get this?" I asked, attempting to conceal the tremor in my voice.

"It was in our locker about two days ago." She tossed it on the sheets. "I haven't opened it."

I picked it up and slit the top open with my fingernail before flipping it over and shaking out its contents. A single piece of folded grey stationary fluttered out.

Dear Mr. Watson,

This is only the beginning. Take care that both you and your daddy mind your own business, or you might find yourself walking down memory lane once again.

Tread lightly.

Love,

Your Secret Admirer

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Author's Note: Dang, I've done it again. I really need to get on a better updating schedule. School's just been tough lately, what with Track/Field taking up most of my free time, and the fact that I'm currently working on a full length novel that will (hopefully) be worth publishing.

Anyways, thanks so much for reviewing the last chapter everyone! And a very special shout-out to noukinav018 for basically reviewing every single chapter – you're fabulous, noukinav!

Please review, and tell me what you think!

-Cass