I WOKE UP IN THE HOSPITAL, MY OWN ROOM, AND EVERYTHING was numb and fuzzy. My whole body felt like it had this very very low level of electricity moving through it. My tongue felt huge inside my mouth, which also felt huge, somehow. My arm, the broken one, was held up by a rope or something and there was a splint made of foam and metal holding it in place. I was just starting to realize that it was still connected to my body when I heard my mom ask, “Frankie?”

“Yeah?” I said.

“You’re okay,” she told me. “Your arm is going to be fine, you know, brand new, at least that’s what the doctor said. It was a fracture but, you know, the bone didn’t—” My mom stopped suddenly and looked like she might throw up. I realized, now that the world was regaining a little clarity, how pale she looked. After a few seconds, she went on like I hadn’t just seen her almost vomit over the horror of my broken arm. “It didn’t break the skin, right? And teenage bones are, like, my god, they just go right back together and it’s like nothing happened.”

“My mouth feels funny,” I told her.

“Yeah, you chipped your front teeth. We’ll need to have a dentist fix your teeth, because they’re . . . well, don’t worry about your teeth, Frankie, Jesus. I’m not going to worry about your teeth, okay? The teeth are the least of our worries. But, yes, you messed them up pretty bad in the wreck.”

“In the wreck,” I said, like I was piecing together what she knew and what she didn’t know. I wondered if Zeke had come to check on me, if he was in the hallway.

“Do you remember the wreck, sweetie?” she asked. “You drove right off the road. You drove . . . well, you drove a decent way into the neighbor’s yard and hit their tree. Do you remember that?”

“I do,” I admitted. “I hit their tree pretty hard.”

“You absolutely did, sweetie,” my mom said. “And, I just . . . Frankie, what happened?”

I knew I had to lie, and I knew it would be so easy to lie. The only problem was if Zeke was in the hallway, if he had told her everything. But I felt like he wasn’t there. He had left me on the ground in his grandmother’s yard. He hadn’t come to help me. He was gone.

“Zeke’s gone,” I said.

“What now?” she asked.

“Zeke’s leaving. Mom, is Zeke here? Like, is he here right now?”

“Do you think that Zeke is in the room, Frankie?” she asked, confused.

“No, but . . . is he in the hallway? Like, have you seen him?”