Chapter 4: The Rooftop

I was discharged on Saturday morning with a wheelchair, a bag of pills and a plan.

The party started at seven.

I had booked the rooftop restaurant six weeks ago, and my credit card was the one on file.

The wheelchair van dropped me at the curb at ten past eight.

Nobody had told the staff I was coming.

The elevator opened onto string lights, a DJ and sixty people holding drinks.

A banner across the back wall said HEIDI IS 20.

Heidi stood under it in a white dress and a gold paper crown, laughing with her hand on Derrick's arm.

Her wrist brace was gone.

Mrs. Brackett, Derrick's mother, saw me first.

She put down her glass.

"Abigail," she said. "We heard you were still in the hospital."

"I got out."

I rolled forward until I reached the DJ table.

"Can I borrow that?" I asked the DJ, and held out my hand for the microphone.

He looked at Derrick.

Then he looked at my cast and gave it to me.

"Hi, everyone," I said.

The music stopped.

Sixty faces turned toward me.

"Four nights ago, a driver ran a red light and hit my car. I was trapped for almost an hour. I pressed our emergency app four times."

I held up my cracked phone.

"Three calls were rejected. One was answered, and whoever answered listened to me breathe and hung up. The people who did that are in this room."

Nobody breathed.

"Abigail," Derrick said, crossing the floor. "Not here."

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