Free Crash by Eve Silver

smiles a little. “Sound familiar?”
    â€œYes,” I say, looking at the floor. It’s like he’s vocalizing all my fears.
    â€œBut living,” he says, “ really living is messy and sometimes ugly, and it hurts.” He takes my hand and threads his fingers with mine. “The moments when it doesn’t, the moments that shine, the ones where I get to hold you, kiss you, laugh with you, those are the ones that matter, Miki.”
    â€œThose are the ones that matter,” I whisper, studying our linked hands. “It’s so hard. Gram, Sofu . . . Mom . . . They were alive, and then they weren’t. They didn’t make it. I believed they would. With all my heart, I believed. Even when Mom was in palliative care, when the doctorstold us there was nothing else they could do except make her as comfortable as possible, I couldn’t stop believing. And it wasn’t enough.”
    Jackson’s quiet for a long time, then he says, “Your dad and Carly aren’t going to die. They’re going to pull through.” He sounds so certain, and I don’t get how he can be.
    Then I think of him trying to save Carly after the Drau killed her, of him putting his life on the line to go against the orders of the Committee and use his Drau abilities. What if that’s the reason he’s so certain that Dad and Carly will make it? Because he plans to do that again? To save them . . .
    If that’s what he’s thinking, I can’t let him follow through. The Committee will kill him. But knowing Jackson, he’ll do it in secret, keep it from me, not let the choice be mine. Because how am I supposed to choose between his life and Carly’s and Dad’s?
    I almost say something to him. Almost. But just in case he hasn’t been thinking along those lines, I don’t—I don’t want to put ideas in his head.
    We sit there, the noises of the hospital filtering to us through the open door. After a few minutes, there’s the sound of heels clicking on the hall tile and Carly’s mom comes into the waiting room. Carly’s dad stands in the doorway, both hands shoved deep in his pockets, his sandy hair standing up in all directions. He jingles his change and rocks from foot to foot. He can’t bear to be still, either.
    My full attention—along with all my hopes—turn to them. Please let her have good news. Please.
    â€œMiki,” Mrs. Conner says, and lays her hand on the top of my head. “I hear your dad’s out of surgery.”
    I nod. “Dr. Lee came to talk with me. They’re going to let me see him soon.” My gut churns. “Carly?”
    â€œThey’re moving her to the neuro-ICU. That’s where we’re going now.” She glances back at her husband.
    â€œIs she okay?” I ask, hoping, desperately hoping. “Did she wake up?”
    â€œNot yet. She’s in a medically induced coma. They want—” Her voice breaks and she swallows against her tears. Mr. Conner walks over and puts his arm around her shoulders.
    â€œThey want to keep her that way for a bit,” he says. “They told us it can help minimize the damage to her brain.”
    I press my knuckles against my lips, feeling sick.
    Tears track silver lines down Mrs. Conner’s cheeks. She looks a million years old and so very tired. I remember Dad saying he was glad Sofu passed before Mom, that a parent should never have to bury a child.
    My vision darkens at the edges, narrowing until all I see are those tracks of tears.
    Mr. Conner looks at Jackson. “I feel like we’re deserting Miki, but . . . we need to be there, be with Carly . . . Can I count on you, son?”
    â€œI’m here,” Jackson says at the same time I say, “Youaren’t deserting me.” I press my lips together. “After I see Daddy, is it okay if I come see Carly, just for a minute?”
    Mrs.