Not An Accident Read online

  NOT an Accident

  Mystery by

  Tampa Tyson

  Chapter 1:

  "You can't leave now, Gabby."

  It was the year 2107, March 26. 13-year-old Kayla, who was my assistant ski coach, was throwing me a goodbye ski party. And I wanted to leave.

  Trying to ignore the puppy-dog gaze Kayla kept giving me, I grabbed my small plastic glass of sprite and drank half of it in one gulp. "Sorry, Kayla." I slowly stood up. "I've got to get going." Hoping it'd disturb Kayla, I gulped down the rest and let out a huge burp. But Kayla didn't stop staring at me.

  I looked away from Kayla, and my glance fell on all the party goers who were gathering around the cake table. I scowled. I'd spent the last 30 minutes trying to rush them through the cake eating process, so I could say goodbye and leave... But nobody was listening.

  "My mother only let me attend this ski party because she believed it was the standard end of year celebration." I slowly turned my glance towards Kayla. "Do you know what she'd do if she found out I wasn't at the lodge?" Never mind the power outage and my lost phone... Mom would freak.

  "You didn't tell her it was a goodbye thing?"

  "No." Why would I? Given Hannah- my ski coach - had decided to let me go only a week ago, I didn't want to stun my mom with that information. If she knew- well, I didn't know what she’d do, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't be good.

  Kayla had told me that a few previous skiing residents had lost their skiing privileges prematurely after their parents had gotten involved.

  And I knew... I was not willing to suffer the same fate. Especially since tomorrow would be the final day of our yearly ski games. I'd grown to love these as skiers from all over the United States would come and compete- in the one place in Minnesota that still had a ski hill- Minnesota Falls.

  “It’s that trophy, isn’t it?” Kayla said.

  “What? Why would I care about a trophy? Everybody who plays in the yearly ski games gets them.”

  “Yeah, but...”

  “I know.” It was true that all those who played in the ski games received a trophy- a participation trophy. But those who did exceptionally well always got something better.... an additional trophy.

  “Why are you so obsessed with that thing?”

  “I’m not!” I said. “It’s just— well, this is my last chance. To get it.” Turning back to the table, I realized somebody had swiped my cake, the cake Kayla had sliced almost 30 minutes ago. I looked at Kayla, but she shrugged. Then I looked toward the door.... and saw somebody who I hadn't seen in the table- stuffing her face with bits from a slice of half eaten cake and I chased after her. Everybody was so still she seemed to have no trouble reaching the door... But when I tried to follow, I kept tripping and falling.

  “Sorry, Gabby,” the blond girl said when I finally approached her at the front door. “I’ve got to go home. Check on my brother.”

  “Right.” I looked around the room and then reached into the closet, getting my coat, and searching left and right for my shoes- but seeing only my skis, I grabbed them instead. Then I headed outside to Kayla’s front porch. As I was tightening my straps, the blond girl asked me if I’d like a walk home.

  “No thanks,” I said, standing up. “I’m good.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t help but wonder what my mother would think if she saw me coming home with a stranger. “Thanks.”

  “All right. Your loss.” The girl ate a bit more of the ice cream center before placing the plate on top of a clump of snow. “My name’s Sage by the way. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you. Mine’s Gabby.” I wrapped a scarf around my mouth and neck, put on my gloves, grabbed my ski pole, and made my way down Kayla’s driveway, turning left to get on my street. Just pass one intersection; I thought as I walked, Then I’ll be home. And I could talk to Mom.

  But I never got home that night. Instead, I met two sets of barriers blocking two downed power lines. The first set blocked a straight path home- forcing me to go left, but as I thought I could simply go around, I didn't think about it too much. And when I reached the second barrier, I believed going right would get me back home. But it didn't. Instead, when I turned right at the second barrier, my skis gave way, forcing me full speed down the dangerously sloped street.

  At first, I was only mildly frightened. I quickly grabbed my ski poles, trying my hardest to slow myself down, but it seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I kept speeding up.

  Then, just as I was about to crash into a giant- under construction building- my skis suddenly stopped, and I fell forwards. I tried to scream, but I quickly realized I'd muffled my mouth- and I landed face down in the snow. Then, as I spotted the smells of a pungent gas, I realized the road hadn't led me home.

  Instead, it had led me to disaster. And the next morning, I woke up in the hospital plagued by nearly unbearable pain in my right arm. At first, I believed it was simply stiff, but when I tried to move it, I couldn't do anything. I knew it wasn’t paralyzed though; had that been the case, I wouldn’t have been able to feel a thing.

  I glanced down at my feet. Somebody had removed my skis, my very special skis. When Kayla had given them to me the previous Christmas, she told me the skis had been developed late within the previous century. I asked her who'd developed them, and she told me she didn't know the name. All that mattered was that I liked them.

  And I had liked them. Which made me even more upset that they were gone, that I didn’t have them on my feet. I tried to open my eyes, but the harsh florescent lights above me caused them to close again. Quickly rubbing them with my left arm, I turned left and right, and found myself finally able to open my eyes.

  Then I looked left and right again. To the left, there was an EKG machine beeping quietly every two seconds- making me wonder if I was in the Intensive Care Unit.

  To the right was a small seating area, with colors almost as drab as slushy snow. It made the door behind it, a metallic gray, appear as vibrant as a rainbow. It was almost like hospital personnel, in their efforts to make the hospital extremely sterile, eliminated all sources of flair.

  The lack of beauty didn’t seem to bother my mother though. She was sitting on the dingy couch with somebody I was sure I’d never seen in my life- and they were engaged in some sort of conversation- a conversation I probably wouldn’t have bothered to listen to if there’d been something more fun to do.

  But all the hospital had in the way of entertainment was a television and a couple of outdated magazines. As I hated reading, and I had no idea where the TV remote was, I was forced to listen to Dr. Angie and Mom talk, unless I wanted to interrupt them. And they were engaged so deeply...

  “I am so sorry about your daughter’s accident,” the stranger said. “The fact you weren’t there to witness it makes it even more complicated.”

  I looked more closely at the man. He wore a sterile white lab coat that reminded me of the ones we sometimes used in science class- usually when dissecting frogs. Then I noticed Mom looking at me, with sad eyes, but just as quickly as she'd learned, she turned her gaze away- looking again at the stranger "You can fix it, right?"

  “Of course, I can fix it!” The stranger shouted, “I am a doctor after all!” He paused as if he was trying to rein himself in. “But I can only figure out what happened...” He looked towards me.... “not why or how it happened.” He stood up and I saw his head. Bald. Pretty much bald.

  Only two puffs of white hair remained - wrapped around like his ears like groups of cotton balls. "Gabby Myers, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

  I’d jumped back- frightened. Partly because the man had taken such an interest in me, and partly because of his face... I’d thought he was a senior- g
iven his white hair- but his face lacked elderly wrinkles. I nearly gasped for breath, he’d stunned me.

  Mom stood up and walked over to me. “Gabby, it’s okay,” she said, though she didn’t look very confident about it. Her face kept changing too - one second, she’d be smiling faintly, and the other second, she’d be frowning. I really couldn’t catch my breath- they kept scaring me.

  “Should I...” Dr. Angie.

  “No, give her some time. Let her calm down.” The man and my Mom sat back down on the couch. “So.... err.... about... her.... how long will it take?” Dr. Angie.

  Mom shrugged. I was still having difficulty calming down, and it seemed that the more I hyperventilated, the more my right arm ached. I wished it would stop hurting- so I could get back to skiing- and then I noticed the time. 12:00: PM

  Today was the last day of skiing games. And I screamed.

  ***************

  I kept panting and heaving, my arm kept hurting, and Mom and the stranger kept trying their hardest to calm me down- but they couldn't. "My skiing games," I stammered between bouts of uncontrollable hyperventilating. "They're today..."

  A stinging sensation shot its way up my right arm, making me wince. I tried to ignore the pain- all I cared about was skiing. "I don't want to miss them, Mom.”

  The man and Mom stared at each other and then stared at me. “Should I...” said the man.

  “No. You go ahead, Dr. Angie.”

  Dr. Angie came close to me, placing a cold stethoscope on my chest. Shivering slightly, I wished he'd get this all done quickly - the sooner he got everything done, the less skiing I’d have to miss. “Everything looks good, Mrs. Myers. Gabby will be able to go home later today.”

  Later today? Why not now?

  “We need to give her some X-rays.”

  X- rays. What’s going on? I gasped... and screamed. “Gabby!” Mom rushed to my side, “It’s okay- Everything’s alright. You're not dying."

  I gasped. It sure felt like it was. “Skiing.”

  “Don’t worry, Dr. Angie will explain. Please just try to settle down.”

  “I can’t, Mom.” I had to ski- I had to get out of here.

  Mom looked at Dr. Angie. He sighed. “Look... Gabby...”

  Before Dr. Angie had a chance to talk to me, however.... the door opened. A woman stepped in, whistling to herself. She wore a lab coat like the man, except hers was pink. Whenever she made a large step, her coat, along with her blond hair, swayed gently. It reminded me of my mother’s hair- swaying gently whenever she had it hanging down. Right now, Mom’s hair was up- in a bun.

  “Amy.” Sighing deeply, Dr. Angie rolled his eyes. “How many times must I tell you, this is a hospital, not an amusement park?”

  “Sorry, Dr. Angie!” Amy giggled.

  "It's not funny. Not a bit." Dr. Angie grabbed Amy's shoulder. She stopped in place - maybe he was glaring at her? "I've had too many patients under my care whom nearly died because of your mishaps," Dr. Angie said with a hoarse voice.

  Amy quickly stopped laughing. Dr. Angie released his grip. For a few moments, he was quiet; when he spoke again, I realized his voice sounded calmer - a lot calmer. "I'm giving you one last chance, Amy. To improve yourself,” His voice waned for a second, "But if... Gabby dies.... you..."

  Amy didn't respond. Dr. Angie approached her shoulders, she backed away, gulped, and nodded. Then, she handed Dr. Angie the folder she’d been holding under her arm. He took it, shook his head, and sighed deeply. Then Amy left the room.

  Holding the folder under his arm, Rangie turned back to me. "Sorry, Gabby,” He said, “Amy’s always been a pretty good nurse - but lately...” He trembled slightly as he spoke. "I don't know what's going on with her right now, she’s seeming a little absent-minded.... but she’s been slacking off a bit...”

  I didn’t know what he was talking about. Thankfully, I didn’t have to ask, as Mom interrupted me. “Dr. Angie.”

  “Oh, yes, Catherine.” Dr. Angie said. “Have you changed your mind? Do you want to tell her now?”

  “No.” Grabbing a magazine, Mom sat back down. “You go ahead.”

  “Alright.” Dr. Angie turned back to me. He seemed to be pondering his words.... very carefully, he kept muttering. He turned back to Mom. “Don’t you have work today?”

  “I’ve got clients.”

  “Don’t they have trouble with patience?”

  “Their patience is growing,” Mom said. “Still, don’t take too long.”

  “Right,” Dr. Angie turned to me, “So, Gabby, when you visit the doctor's office, it’s typical for us to check your medical history.... not only does it help us determine how best to treat you - it helps in future care...”

  Mm.... hmm. Hurry up. I’ve got plans for today. “The thing is.... as you’re a dependent....” Child, I corrected mentally - I’m only 10... “This information is shared with your parents in addition to you,” Right. “and...”

  Mom, who’d been skimming through her magazine, suddenly put it down. Seemed she was also upset with Dr. Angie for taking what seemed like forever - to me, anyway. “You were rescued, Gabby.”

  No, she wasn't upset with Dr. Angie. I was the one who was fluorescent, the one who kept wondering what was going on, kept wishing that Dr. Angie would give me answers more quickly, let me know what had happened-

  “You were rescued Gabby... “Mom repeated, “late last night.”

  “By whom?”

  “Stephen. Stephen Williams.” Standing up, Mom put the outdated magazine back on the hospital table. “He came last night.... to save you.”

  Save me? Why? Had what happened really been bad enough for me to need rescuing from? “I don’t...”

  “Gabby, you were unconscious, at the construction site,” Mom said. "Stephen found you - brought you here.” She smiled faintly again. “It’s good he did- otherwise.”

  I wondered how she knew where I'd been - then I realized Stephen must have told her. Clearly, he’d taken me to the hospital - but why.... why hadn’t he simply taken me home?

  “Was I at death’s door?”

  "You were unconscious, Gabby,” Mom said, “but that’s not the point...”

  "Let me guess," I said, "somebody poisoned me with smelly stuff."

  “It was a construction site, Gabby,” Mom said. “Might have just been some chemical accidentally left out. Or a large beam that accidentally fell on you.”

  “The point is,” Dr. Angie interrupted, “we know what happened to you, Gabby, just not how it happened. It doesn’t really affect much - even if we knew everything, we’d still have to monitor your progress, because different people heal at different rates - it just means your recovery’s more up in the air....”

  Okay, so what happened?

  “You’ve broken your wrist, Gabby,” Dr. Angie said, “badly. And mildly broken bones usually take at least a month to heal.”

  *****************

  I looked down at my arm. It was encased in something white – plaster - and strapped to my neck with something also white - a sling. No, I thought, gasping again for breath. This can’t be happening. Hoping I was dreaming, I blinked, tried pinching myself, and even tried closing my eyes very tightly - as if I’d wake up from this terrible nightmare in Mom’s car.

  “Gabby...”

  I could feel my eyes watering, filling with tears.... tears that I couldn’t control. “Gabby, it’s going to be okay...”

  “How can you say that?” I said, “Skiing...” I couldn’t get the words out; my tears were keeping my vocal cords from functioning properly. All I knew if I didn't know what I was going to do without skiing - after all, it was the one thing I'd always lived for.

  “You’ve got to calm down, Gabby,” Dr. Angie said. “we’ve got a lot of patients here in the hospital - they can’t hear your crying...”

  “Shut up,” I snapped at him. Who was he to tell me what to do? He was a stranger - a stranger, “who are you? An idiot?"

  “He’s your...
" Mom suddenly went quiet. Dr. Angie picked up the manila folder that Amy had brought in earlier and opened it. Then he closed it. "Of course, Catherine," he said, “this is Gabby's first time her since her infancy." He handed Mom the medical records, but she didn’t even bother looking at them; she just put them down, “Heck....” Dr. Angie shook his head. “I don’t even think Gabby remembers her first shot.”

  “I remember my first photo shoot.” I hissed.

  Dr. Angie backed away. “Alright- Vaccination. That’s what I meant.”

  “What’s a vaccination? Is that like a vacation?”

  Dr. Angie grabbed his head with his hand and leaned forward. As he leaned, I saw his bald head glisten in the bright fluorescent lights. Mom saved him from speaking. "No, Gabby, you’ve been on several vacations as a baby - but you were never vaccinated. What?" She looked at Dr. Angie, whose fingers had turned red. "What? It’s not my fault. It’s the frigging internet’s fault, those... Yeah, I know they’re myths - but my husband - he'll believe anything he sees on the internet... I wish people would start caring more about the accuracy of things alone, things would get better.”

  "There are some things scientists can't prove, Catherine,” Dr. Angie said, “but I feel your pain.”

  “You do?”

  Dr. Angie nodded. “I once got stuck with this classmate in medical school. We were supposed to work on a persuasive paper on the value of yearly appointment, but he was so against them, he soaked up the ‘vaccines cause autism,’ myth and tried to use the info as a source. We both ended up getting F's.”

  “Terrible!” Poor boy.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for him,” “Dr. Angie shivered. "I mean, I was the lucky one, the hard worker, the one who’d spend hours and hours studying - so.... well, I had to appeal.... but I managed to stay in school. My parents.... well, they were relieved.”

  “The boy?”

  “Oh, yes. He got kicked out." Dr. Angie scratched his bald head. “Well, put on probation and then kicked out.... but I'm surprised.... that he even got in. Medical school is very rigorous..."

  “Rich parents? You think?”