“Esther,” Mr. Carver says, returning into the tent. He blocks my view of Miles and Amber, but maybe that’s for the best. Watching them was giving me strange feelings in my stomach that I’m nowhere near ready to face, let alone put a name to.
“Yes, Mr. Carver?”
By now the medical professionals have finished their work. There is some discussion going on between them about potential internal bleeding, but no one seems overly interested in rushing me to the hospital, so that seems like a good sign.
“You should stay here for the rest of the afternoon,” Mr. Carver says. Worry lines dig creases all over his face.
Eying the medical staff, I say, “I should be able to come back soon. I don’t think they want to take me to the hospital and I feel okay.”
“Esther,” Mr. Carver says again, drawing m
