Read Online Rosebush by Michele Jaffe - Free Book Online Page A

though it was on a drawing board like an avatar being created. Not the avatar I would have created for myself, though. This one would definitely have been some kind of underworld villain.
    But I could recognize my eyes, my hair, my lips, my smile. I could imagine them coming back how they had been. I could be pretty again. Me again.
    “Well?”
    “The green dots on the hospital gown really bring out the yellow around my black eye,” I said.
    “There’s that twinkle in those beautiful eyes your mother told me about. She said you had a great sense of humor.”
    “Is there any chance at all you could put some of my mother’s mascara on me? On my good eye. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”
    “I promise you, everyone is just going to be glad you’re alive. No matter how you look, you’ll be beautiful to them.”
    “You don’t know my friends.”
    “Teenagers.” She shook her head, but she rifled through my mother’s makeup bag and found the mascara. “Look down, I don’t want to poke you and cause any more damage.” When she was done, she said, “Okay, kitten, are you ready to meet your public?”
    “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
    “No.”
    I took a deep breath.
    Loretta wheeled me out of the bathroom and tucked me back into my bed, covering the diaper with a blanket, before opening the door to the outside corridor. She went out and Annie came in. By herself, I was relieved to see.
    She started talking immediately. “We went to the cafeteria. They make good hot chocolate there, but Joe says to stay away from the cinnamon rolls. There’s a police officer outside waiting to talk to you. Your hair looks pretty.” She stopped abruptly, then swiveled her head from side to side as though desperate for something else to say. “Look.” She pointed at the windowsill, where a large bouquet of roses had appeared with some kind of object tucked next to it. “You got another bouquet, and it came with a teddy bear. Cute.” She picked the bear up and held it toward me. It was wearing a muscle shirt that said GET WELL BEARY SOON!
    I grimaced. “That’s not cute, that’s awful. You better tell Mom who it’s from so she can add it to the list.”
    “The card says ‘from your secret admi—’” She dropped the card and looked at me. “You can talk!”
    She swung toward the door, clutching the doorjamb and leaning out into the hallway to yell, “Mom, Mom, Jane can talk!”
    There was a chorus of “shhhs” from the nurses’ station, followed by the sound of high heels running up the corridor fast.
    “Hi, Mom,” I said when she rushed into the room.
    There were tears in her eyes. “Oh, thank God,” she said, taking up her place at the side of my bed again. “I was—we all were—thank God you can talk. How did it happen? When? Oh, thank God, thank God.”
    “All of a sudden in the bathroom I just had my voice back.” It wasn’t a complete lie. My mother looked at my hand. “Just my voice. I still can’t move the rest of my body.”
    “That’s enough for now,” Joe said heartily. “We’ll just be patient and you’ll be good as new in no time.”
    I couldn’t move, but I could still feel anger rising inside of me. “How do you know? Did you get a medical degree while I was in the shower?”
    “Jane!” my mother said warningly. “There is no cause for rudeness.”
    A quiet tapping on the door spared me the rest of whatever she would have said and woman with dark hair in a navy-blue police uniform stepped into the room. “I’m sorry to bother you so soon into your recovery,” she said, “but I have a few questions that could help us find who did this to you.” She gave the impression of being competent and tidy, from the neat bun of her hair to the clear polish on her short fingernails.
    My mother assumed her best authoritative manner. “Officer—”
    “Rowley, ma’am.”
    “Officer Rowley, my daughter only just came out of a coma.” I had this feeling like she said