No Place

Начало книги

My thanks to Coach Michael Chiapparelli and pitcher Michael Williams for their gracious assistance. And to David Gale, Navah Wolfe, and Dr. Petra Deistler-Kaufmann, for their many insightful and helpful suggestions.

In the dark I’m jogging quickly across the hospital parking lot toward the emergency room. My cell phone vibrates. Even before I dig it out of my pocket, I know it’s Talia and she’s going to ask why I’m not at the party.

I answer with a lie: “Hey, sorry, the stupid bus hasn’t come yet.”

Silence on the other end. Talia’s pondering this.

“I’ll be there ASAP,” I add as I weave through parked cars.

“You sound like you’re running,” she says.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, running over to the Gerson Street stop so I can get the 104 or the 107. See you soon, okay?” I hate lying, especially to people I care about, but when everything’s going wrong, it’s sometimes hard to do what’s right.

As a damp gust of wind carries the promise of rain, leaves swirl in the heavy moist air. From the distance comes the rumble of thunder. I push through the ER doors and into the stark bright fluorescent world of the hospital.

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