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their technology.
    Mom pulled the belt on her coat tight. “Focus on getting better first.” She leaned down and pecked me on the forehead, then swept out the door.
    As soon as she was gone, I had to clench my mouth shut to keep from calling her back. It was totally silent except for the beep and clicking of the IV machine by my side. I knew it was absurd, but I was suddenly certain that there was nothing outside of the room. That if I’d been able to get up and make it to the door, there would have been just some kind of void where the hallway was supposed to be.
    I swallowed. I felt panicky and knew I had to get control. Last summer when my mom was out of town visiting her sister, Simone came over. We watched a bunch of horror movies and ended up freaking ourselves out. When a raccoon tripped the motion sensor light on the patio outside, the two of us had started screaming like a guy with a chainsaw had been beating on the door. We’d scared ourselves over nothing, and this was the same thing. I was perfectly safe.
    I still left the light on.

Chapter Three
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    What the heck is in Jell-O, anyway?
I poked it with my spoon, and it jiggled in its assigned slot on the tray like a blob of cherry-flavored cellulite. The hospital kitchen didn’t do much to inspire patients to be a part of the clean-plate club. That was saying a lot, because I was starving. I hadn’t been allowed any solid food the day before the surgery, and postsurgery I’d been allowed only clear liquids. Today was my first real food day, and so far I wasn’t impressed. Tish, my favorite nurse, had promised to sneak me a mint chocolate-chip milk shake from 31 Flavors when her shift started. I’d have lost my mind if it weren’t for her. She was the only one who acted remotely normal around me. Everyone else was either freakishly cultlike perky or treated me like I was part of the furniture.
    My door swished open, and Lisa, the day nurse, came in. I was pretty sure she liked me better when I was unconscious. I’d tried everything to charm her, but she hardly even spoke to me. She bustled over and checked my IV and changed the bag with a smooth, practiced movement.
    â€œDumping rain, huh?” I said.
    She glanced over at the window as if she were just noticing there was an outdoors. Who knew? Maybe she lived in the supply closet on the ward. She made a noncommittal noise, which I took to mean
Why, yes, it is raining. Now that we’ve discussed the weather, let’s have a nice girly chat about movies or the world geopolitical situation.
    â€œAny news about the TV?” I asked. The hospital rooms didn’t come with one. You had to order it for an extra fee. I was desperate for some bad TV to pass the time.
    She stiffened. Great, now I’d offended her. She probably felt like she had enough to do saving lives without having to track down my entertainment.
    â€œI know it’s not your fault. I bet this stuff takes . . . a long time.” I snorted like we were in this together, having to deal with slow hospital bureaucracy, as if I hadn’t forgotten the word I wanted to use.
    â€œYou should ask your mother about the television,” Lisa said. She left without another word. Yet another fail in my effort to win her over.
    I flopped back on the pillows. I was bored. Beyond bored. My mom had brought a couple of books and a stack of magazines, but reading, even for a few minutes, gave me a raging headache. If I kept trying to read despite the headache, I got nauseated, too. I still didn’t have a phone, either. Mom said there would be time for me to talk to everyone when I was transferred to the rehab hospital. Until then, she would update everyone for me. She didn’t want me to wear myself out. We’d fought about it yesterday, and she won with the parental favorite:
Because I’m your mother, that’s why.
    I was a bit ticked at my friends. There might be rules