Free The Ward by Jordana Frankel

as my Rimbo gets to Benson’s garage, I’ll be okay. Then he can fix her up, find out what happened to “Plan B” and why it bunked out on me.
    “Ter, you know where Ren’s place is from here?” Derek asks.
    My fists ball up instinctively. “ No —not like this. Aven . . .” I cry out.
    For a moment, they’re both quiet. Tense.
    I never talk about Aven. Not even to Ter, and he knew her from the start, at Nale’s. They learned early on not to bring her up unless I did. Which I usually don’t.
    “If she sees me like this she’ll be so worried. I have to get cleaned up first. Someplace else . . . please.”
    Terrence nods, but answers sheepishly, “I still live at home, with my dad. So unless you want to go to the hospital, which is exactly where my pops will make you go, my place is a negatory.”
    I know where this is going. I need to get myself some girlfriends.
    “Fine. Ter, take Ren to my place.”

7
    4:15 A.M., SATURDAY
    A ll this clean water, and here I am just floating around in it. I’ve always known Derek was rich; he’s my bookie after all. But this is obscene.
    Is this what it will be like for everyone in the Ward once the Blues get to piping off that spring?
    Thanks to Yours Truly.
    I allow myself a bit of brag time in my head, because hey, I did almost die on that mission of theirs. That’s worth something. I laugh to myself, buzzing from tonight’s events. The sound echoes like gunfire against the marble bathroom walls. Derek’s bathroom walls.
    Man, do I love bubbles. I love bubbles so much that if I could be anything in the whole universe, it would be a bubble. Prepop, of course. Postpop and they’re, well, gone. Bubbles just float around, not a care in the world, multicolored and clear, would you believe it?
    There’s this one bubble doing a balancing act on my big toe right now. I dip my fingers in the sudsy bathwater and, sticking my tongue out as I do when aiming really, really hard, I flick my finger, sending a splash its way. But it’s a persistent bugger. No! it says. I will not go down without a fight!
    It’s nice not being dead, you know?
    It’s especially nice not being dead, in Derek’s tub.
    The bathwater starts to feel cool, so I reach for the shiny porcelain handle and add more hot. Indulgent, I know.
    The water comes streaming from the faucet like pure gold. And all this water! He must have a drainage system the size of Africa. Bet it takes up his entire roof, which means he owns the building.
    Come to think of it . . . which building am I even in?
    Leaning my head against the hammered brass tub, I try to remember the ride back, during which I was completely zombified. Last thing I recall is dozing off on Derek’s shoulder.
    I have no idea where in the Ward we are.
    I do know I was half-asleep by the time he set me in the tub—the only way to get my temp up. He must’ve been fretting about the possibility of my getting hypothermia. Eventually, when I realized I was being lowered into even more water, I woke. And there Derek was, sitting over me in my birthday suit.
    So yeah. There I was, naked in front of Derek. Me. Naked. In front of Derek.
    And I didn’t even get to enjoy it!
    That’s when I screamed like a banshee outta hell.
    “Okay, okay! I just wanted to make sure you didn’t drown. Again.”
    “OUT,” I’d said, not bothering to correct him that I did not, in fact, drown a first time. And out he went.
    What an effed-up night. It’s like all my dreams are coming true—finding freshwater, getting closer to Derek—but in this really messed-up way.
    My mind drifts to other things, like how I’m gonna handle Officer Cory, and the logistics of this freshwater discovery. And the fact that I missed my report to boss man. I bet he’s already messaged my backup cuffcomm at home to reschedule. I’ve never missed a report before—I don’t mess around with these guys. Never wanted to give them a reason to cut my pay. We couldn’t afford that.
    I sink