All In My Head (First Tracks Book 1) Read online

  “New Half Pipe Champion!”

  “Giant Upset as Golden Boy Marcus Fields Blows Away The Competition”

  “Just Weeks After Winning The Gold in Men’s Half Pipe, Marcus Fields In Serious Crash”

  His mind jumped to light speed, connecting clues, filling in blanks and remembering. I saw some of his memories flash one after another.

  Open that last article.

  I wanted to know the truth but I didn’t want to at the same time.

  “Fields is making news once again. First he won the gold medal in men’s halfpipe snowboarding, but just three weeks later was injured in a head on collision, sending him into a coma. The days turned into weeks and friends and family were left to wonder if this was the end of not only his career, but Marcus as they knew him.”

  I couldn’t read any more.

  Marcus was sober too. We could check for newer articles to see what happened since then, but…

  “You’re back, Marcus. You can’t be dead.”

  But I’m in a coma.

  “Hold up. You’re real. This wasn’t all some hallucination. Oh. My. God. Marcus, you’re real. I’m not crazy! I’M NOT CRAZY!” I threw my arms up, hitting the car ceiling on accident. My phone landed in the crack between the seat and console.

  But, HELLO, I’m in a coma somewhere.

  “Which means we can fix this.” I drummed the steering wheel with both hands. “I’m a problem solver. I always figure out a way. Remember what you told me—if we can do this, we can do anything. Remember?”

  Ave, then let me read!

  He was pacing in my head, winding up with explosive energy, and I could feel his confusion and total tornado of emotions as he scanned the search results. Marcus was out there somewhere with a body. Alive. Real. Touchable.

  Heart racing like a hummingbird, I googled his name again and hit Images.

  Hey, hold up, I need to read those other links.

  “In a min.” I wanted to see him.

  You’re seen me, Ave.

  “Not seen seen. And, hello, you’ve seen me naked.”

  Uh, not exactly.

  “Uh, well, you’ve seen more of me than anyone else ever has. In the shower and bath counts as naked, even if you weren’t there to use your hands the way you described.” I didn’t think those words out before speaking, and we both started picturing things we shouldn’t right now.

  “I want a photograph,” I told him. I loved seeing him in my mind but I wanted to see if that matched up with reality.

  It did.

  Marcus was real and mind-blowingly good looking. The search page filled with mid-air shots of him suited up and on a board, or jumping a bike, or flying over a course on skis, but the first photo was a professional head shot, from the waist up. First impression: hot guy in a leather bomber jacket, about my age or a year older I’d guess.

  Oh, god. I hated that shoot. I like doing them out on the slopes. Action shots.

  “Shut up and let me admire.” Warm, auburn brown hair, long and a little wavy, curling a little around his ears. His brown eyes gazed steadily at the camera, one eyebrow slightly higher, with a knowing look on his face. What did he know? It was almost flirtatious. Nice full lips. Narrow nose. He had the slightest of stubble on his square jaw.

  I went back to a regular search, wanting to learn everything I could. He competed at Sochi in the halfpipe, winning the gold. The next articles were about his accident. It sounded serious but his family had kept the details general. Could he have been disfigured? If I could see him again, would I care?

  No. I would know if…

  “One step at a time. We don’t know anything. We just have to figure out the next step.”

  If I could see him again. See him for the first time. See him at all. I had to wipe sweat off my forehead. I was more shook up over this than finding him in my head in the first place. I leaned back and closed my eyes… This changed everything.

  Then, snapping back to attention, I kept searching, trying to figure out more details. He lived in Colorado but traveled all over the world to compete.

  “Hey, you have a Facebook page,” I said, clicking the link, the electrical excitement buzzing through me so fast my entire body was shaking. I got so excited I scrolled down the page too quickly. It stopped on a photo of a blond girl in a winter coat, knit hat and snow goggles resting on her head. “Who’s that?”

  Oh…uh, Ellery Hollingsworth, the first female to land a 1080 on a quarterpipe. She’s doing big things.

  And?

  We’re just friends. Most serious snowboarders meet one way or another. Don’t know her that well. But, scroll up… There’s recent posts!

  The top one said, “Once again, thank you all so much for your support. It means the world to us. It’s been a long night, and I’m crying as I write this because I see so much love poured out here. You’re keeping me going. XX Jen.”

  Who the hell was Jen?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jen—that’s my sister! That’s who I drew. Remember the drawing of that girl?

  I remembered even more vividly how jealous and snarky I’d felt.

  And remember how I told you I just wanted to hold you and kiss you?

  Yes, I did. I closed my eyes again and felt a tear roll down one cheek. I had to ask, “You’re not mad that you’re back here?”

  What do you mean?

  “You were mad as hell when you first woke up here. You must have gone back there to your body for a while. That’s the only explanation…” I lost steam as something came together. One of the articles said he took a turn for the worse on Tuesday. I hadn’t thought about when everything happened in Bandon, that it’d been Tuesday. That’s when he disappeared.

  What does that mean?

  “We’re wasting time.” I’d been sitting in my car in a parking lot for who knew how long. I started the engine and backed up before the car warmed up. “You don’t remember anything about the last week?”

  Not a thing.

  Damn it. I had to figure out where he was—would that be revealed to the public in some of those articles? I wasn’t sure about that kind of thing. I wanted to get home and on my laptop to dig into the articles further.

  Avery, pull over.

  “Why?”

  He didn’t explain but he’d sounded urgent. I pulled off on the side of the road. He used my hand to reach for my phone and started punching a number in.

  We’re calling Jen. She’ll tell you where I am.

  “What?” I tried to hang up but he wouldn’t let me. A female voice answered.

  “Hello?”

  I froze for a second, under all the love and relief Marcus felt at hearing her voice. “Jen.”

  A pause. “Yes?”

  Now what? Marcus jumped in, guiding me. “My name is Avery Waldorf. I’m Marcus’s friend.”

  “Oh. I don’t think I remember anyone named Avery.” She paused and waited, and when I didn’t say anything, she added, “What’s up?”

  “You sound like him when you say that,” I said. “It’s just, there was a lot of stuff he told me, that he wanted to say to you. I’d really like to meet you.”

  “Well, it’s not the best time…”

  “But we might be out of time.” Those weren’t my words. I grimaced, hoping that didn’t kill the conversation. “He never got to tell you he was sorry for losing your baby with yellow hair.” I had no idea those words were coming out of my mouth until I said them. Instantly I saw a worn out doll, marker on its face and ratty yellow hair. Jen quietly pulled in a long breath, like she’d been too emotional for too long and couldn’t handle anymore—according to what Marcus thought. I told her, “He took it to Alex’s house as a joke but he lost it.”

  A minute passed—a full minute; I saw it change twice on the dashboard clock.

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “There’s just a lot of things I need to tell you. And I need to see Marcus.” I could hear all the emotion in my v
oice. Normally I hate that. I like keeping my distance from other people, but right now I needed it to convince her.

  “Who are you again?” She didn’t sound as skeptical—more curious now.

  “It’s a little complicated.” I wasn’t sure if it was me or Marcus saying that one. “And there’s a picture he drew of you. I want to give it to you.”

  Christ almighty. You’re talking like I’m dead.

  “Okay… where are you again?”

  “Ashland, Oregon.”

  ***

  An hour later, when I bust through the front door and ran to my room, Jazz came out of her room and followed.

  “Avery, what’s going on?”

  “I’m going to Portland.” I grabbed pants and shirts off of the floor and dresser and stuffed them in a bag. “Marcus is at Providence, in neurocritical care. It’s for patients in a coma.”

  She stopped in my doorway. “Wha….?”

  “I found him. He’s back, and we know where his body is.” I grabbed more things.

  “I should go with you.”

  Her voice didn’t sound quite right. I turned around, trying to read her face, and found it pinched. I tossed in personal items from the bathroom.

  “He’s in Portland? That’s odd…. He could have been in Montana or Canada or New York or something. Why Portland?”

  I stopped and zip up my bag. “It’s weird and lucky, I guess. His car accident was in Portland, the same day and time I fell on the slopes. He had a publicity event up there and this international ping pong event.” I looked around, wondering if I was forgetting anything, and grabbed Marcus’s drawings and the guitar from under my bed.

  Did she think it was too convenient to be true? Like I was hallucinating? No, I talked to his sister on the phone.

  “I should go with you, Avery,” Jazz said again, sternly. I paused to look at her, but I couldn’t think it all through and answer her in time. “Ave?”

  “I think I should go alone. I don’t want to pull you out of class and work, and I probably need the time to think.”

  “What are you planning to do there?”

  “I’ll make a plan on the drive up.”

  ***

  But of course I didn’t make a plan on the five hour drive up. I watched the sun set in a wispy, cloudy sky and listened to Marcus tell me about his life: how he fell in love with snowboarding when he was six. About growing up with Jen and how she watched out for him cause he was her little bro. About his mom and dad—two quirky, funny hippies still in love after forty years together. He painted a childhood that sounded a little like mine before I lost my parents, where family mattered. They took road trips. Camped out all over Colorado and beyond. And there was always skiing and snowboarding. They believed in him when, at the young age of eight, he declared he’d compete in the Olympics in snowboarding someday. It hadn’t even been an Olympic sport then.

  I knew him before this. How can you not know someone who was living in your head? But now I saw him in his life. So much made sense now.

  I fantasized about seeing him and watching him open his eyes, and everything would be okay. Everything would be perfect.

  I stopped at two rest stops but didn’t bother with food or anything else. At the rest stop outside Portland, I thought to look in the bathroom mirror, but it was one of those dull, not good for anything kinds. I wiped water on my face and tried to tame my hair, but that was all the time I would spare.

  You’re beautiful no matter what.

  That phrase stuck with me, no matter what. It made me uneasy, and it took the rest of the drive to put a finger on why. I already knew this changed everything, but did I really understand? Did I have any clue what would happen?

  I arrived at the hospital way past visiting hours, and probably too late to call his sister, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t mind.

  Of course she won’t.

  “She doesn’t know you’re in here, remember?” I said, out loud because I was still in the car. “But I want to see you tonight.”

  Then call her.

  I’d saved her number earlier so it took a few taps on my phone to call her again. It rang five times and her voicemail came on. I started to hang up.

  No! Leave a message. Please.

  I sighed, closing for eyes for a second to blurt out a quick, “Hey, this is Avery Waldorf. I’m in Portland. Can you call me?”

  Why didn’t she answer? Had she decided I was a lunatic after all?

  We gotta keep trying.

  I slid my phone in my jacket pocket and got out of the car. Maybe she was here, or maybe she wasn’t, but I wanted to see Marcus. I went in through the emergency entrance because it was the closest. My first instinct was to hunch over and try to slip by.

  Stand up. Act like you walk through here every day.

  I tried his advice. When an orderly passed me, I gave him a nod. He nodded back like it was normal. I continued on, striding through hallway after hallway like I knew exactly where I was going. It worked to get me past nurses and doctors for a while, but it didn’t help me find him.

  Meanwhile Marcus about crawled out of my scull. It felt like an angry bee stuck in a jar. I finally gave in and asked a cleaning lady where a coma patient might be.

  “Oh, sorry miss, visiting hours over.” She shook her head and continued on.

  “But I’ll need to find him tomorrow!” I called out to her back.

  She turned around and her face softened. “Try Floor Two, over in the last wing.”

  After she pushed her cart down the hall and turned the corner, I turned and headed that way. I got caught up with Marcus and his energy, so I didn’t see the male nurse in the hallway until he called out and startled me.

  “We’re closed for the night,” he said, studying me in a way I didn’t like. He was mentally taking notes.

  “Oh, I know. I just forgot my bag.” I took a step and gestured, not even sure it was a direction that would help.

  “I’ll walk you.” His eyes changed—my reaction gave me away.

  I shrugged and said, “I really want to see my friend tonight.”

  He gave a slow shake of his head. “Sorry, but there’s two carded doors that way, and you just can’t get through tonight.”

  Even with the softness in his expression, it was also clear he wasn’t budging. He couldn’t, really, without breaking rules. I wasn’t sure what to do… I nodded and mumbled thanks to him as I walked back out.

  That’s that? I can’t get in to see myself?

  I tried to calm him down on the walk back outside and to the car. It sucked, but I couldn’t explain this situation to someone in the hospital unless I wanted to be a patient myself. I let myself into my car and laid back in the driver’s seat. It’d started to sprinkle and that turned into a downpour. We sat and watched the streetlights play in the raindrops running down the glass.

  Babe… what are you doing?

  “Waiting for tomorrow.”

  ***

  Somehow I knew it was a dream. Marcus stepped close, gazing into my eyes, with his fingertips cradling my face, like he was afraid to touch me. Or maybe he couldn’t believe it was real, either.

  But it could be, babe.

  He smiled, his lips turning up at the corners while that look of awe remained.

  It could be real. It would be, very soon.

  I reached for him too, running my hands up his chest to his shoulders. His neck felt warm to my touch. In fact, I felt his heartbeat, growing faster under my fingertips. His warmth reached out to me as I moved closer, wrapping my arms around his neck. We both half smiled, a little nervous, just before he grazed his lips across mine in a butterfly touch. Then I leaned up, meaning to press my lips against his…

  A buzzing stopped me. I blinked rapidly, remembering I’d slept in the car. Remembering that Jen could be calling. So I grabbed up my phone and answered without reading the screen. My vision was still blurry anyway.

  “Ave?” It was Jazz.

  “Oh, hey.
I’m okay. I’m up here at the hospital…waiting to see him.”

  “He’s really there?”

  Why wouldn’t he be? I didn’t understand her question at all. So I said, “I’m just waiting to hear from his sister.” Another call beeped as I spoke. “That’s probably her.”

  I got off the phone with Jazz and saw, with relief, that it was Jen. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Avery?”

  I didn’t speak quickly enough, and then we both started talking. After some nervous chatter, she said, “I’m arriving at the hospital. I can meet you in the lobby.”

  “That’d be great. Thank you!” I wanted to get off the phone before she changed her mind. Of course she could change her mind anyway, but this would make it harder. I hurried back to the hospital to look for a bathroom, wondering what I looked like. I didn’t want to scare Jen.

  I also needed to make a plan with Marcus, as in, what would I tell Jen?

  The truth?

  “Ya know, Marcus, I respect your truth-is-always-best approach to life, but it won’t convince her to trust me or let me see you. I need a good story. How did we meet? Where did we meet?”

  As he worked on that, I spotted a pretty blonde standing by herself, looking the other way. She turned her head toward me. We both knew the other, even though she hadn’t seen a picture of me yet—unless she looked me up on Facebook. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but she had a resemblance to Marcus. It wasn’t obvious, but something more in her eyes and expression.

  I walked over and held out my hand. We shook and I held onto her hand for an extra few seconds. “How are you holding up?”

  “Okay, I think.” She lifted one shoulder. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

  She’s guarded.

  What else could we have expected? I gestured to the chairs. “Want to sit down for a minute? If you have a minute, that is.”

  “All right … maybe you could tell me how you know Marcus again? My brain’s a bit frazzled from all of this.”

  I felt cold panic rising up my stomach, but Marcus took over. “I met Marcus at the Portland shoot three years ago. I’m a writer. I did some scripts for another group shooting there. Anyway, we’ve been friends ever since.”