Free Bad Hair Day by Carrie Harris

here in seconds. I didn’t want her to see him like this, but I couldn’t save him alone.
    “I need you to stay calm,” I called over to her. She stopped a few feet away, a look of horror on her face. Even in the dim light, even with his face turned away, she knew. “You deserve to fall apart right now, but I need you to help me. Can you do it?”
    The gravel piffed as she flung the backpack in my direction. “I’ll call 911.” Her voice wobbled, but she whipped out her cell and started dialing. I’d just have to trust that she could tell them what they needed to know.
    I turned back to Bryan. There was just enough light left for me to see. I needed to staunch the blood flow, although by the size of this pool, I knew it was probably too late. He’d be lucky if he escaped this without brain damage. Heck, he’d be lucky if he didn’t die.
    There was so much blood. I tore open a thick gauze pad to staunch the wound. But I couldn’t find one.
    I sat back on my heels for a second; that was how shocked Iwas. Maybe the blood wasn’t his? But if that was true, why was he unconscious?
    Idiot. I smacked myself on the forehead; I couldn’t afford to sit here theorizing while there could be internal damage. I leaned over to check his respiration. His chest shuddered in a pained, almost convulsive movement.
    Something wasn’t right. I flipped my hair over my shoulder and put my ear to his mouth but didn’t hear any air going in. And now that I knew what to look for, I could see the red splotches slowly surfacing on his neck under the streaks of blood. Purpura. Normally, the opportunity to see some purpura up close and personal would make me go all geeky, but right now it just made me want to throw up, because I knew what it meant.
    His windpipe was smashed.
    I fumbled for the backpack. He didn’t have much time before he suffocated; I needed gloves and I needed them now. But my hands were shaking so hard that I couldn’t open the zipper. Too bad Elle wasn’t here. I bet she was an expert at unzipping things.
    Screw it. I put my bare hands on his gore-smeared face, even though I knew I was exposing myself to a big pool of potential infection. I refused to let Bryan die because I was too busy worrying about myself. Then I gently levered his jaw forward even though I knew, I just knew it wasn’t going to open the airway. But I needed to try everything before I cut him.
    Rocky fell to her knees beside me. “The ambulance will be here in a few,” she said. “Oh my god, Bryan?” She shook his shoulder, tears dripping off the end of her nose. “Baby, can you hear me?”
    “He’s suffocating,” I said. “Open my bag.”
    Tactless, I knew, but I was focused on the fact that I was about to perform minor surgery on one of my friends in the middle of a dimly lit, junk-strewn gravel lot. It didn’t even register that I’d stuck my foot in it until I realized she wasn’t moving. She just sat there with her mouth hanging open, staring at Bryan like he might miraculously heal himself.
    So I shook her, just hard enough to get her attention. My hands left bloody prints on her shoulders, and she peeped indignantly. Literally peeped.
    I choked back hysterical laughter. “Dump the bag. I’m going to open an airway; you’ve got to hand me the right equipment. Please, Rocky. I need you to believe in me, because I’m scared shitless.”
    She took in a shuddering breath. “Okay. What am I looking for?”
    “Alcohol wipes, the pink scalpel case, and a pen. Ballpoint, not Sharpie.”
    She upended the pack onto the ground. Good. I turned back to Bryan. It looked like I was going to get to do a little surgery this week after all. Funny how things worked out.
    Rocky shoved the pen at me with one hand, still raking through the scattered mess with the other. I pulled it apart, removing the ink cartridge. Then I tilted Bryan’s head back and put the extra gauze underneath his neck to brace it.
    His neck was so lumpy that it took me