Ann Martin - Mary Anne And Camp

My dad would be home in another week. Was a week enough time to get the house back in shape?

But the appearance of Logan, riding his bicycle up our driveway, banished the dark thoughts of housework from my mind.

"Logan!" I said.

"You guys ready?" he asked.

"We're wearing our swimsuits under our

clothes and we've got towels in our backpacks," I reported.

"Excellent," said Logan.

We were going to have a long, lazy day, hanging out and riding our bikes around Stoneybrook, ending up at the town pool for a swim. As we pedaled down Burnt Hill Road I began to relax.

We cruised along some of the quieter roads in Stoneybrook. People were out gardening and mowing lawns and reading the newspaper in hammocks and washing cars and walking dogs.

"What a wonderful day!" I called back to Logan and Dawn. "What a wonderful, beautiful day."

"Mary Anne!" Logan shouted.

"Logan!" I shouted back. "Hooray for the day!"

"Mary Anne!" Logan and Dawn shouted at once. "Look out!"

It was too late. I looked down just as the front wheel of my bike was swallowed by an enormous pothole. The wheel bounced down. It bounced up. I wrenched the handlebars sideways, trying to maintain control of the bike.

Then the back wheel hit the pothole, bounced out, and propelled the bike into a tree.

It rebounded off that, veered sideways, and flipped over onto the sidewalk, with me underneath.

I don't remember exactly what happened next. I do remember my foot hitting the ground hard as the bicycle skidded and then fell over. I remember landing with a thud on my side and sliding a little ways on the sidewalk.

I remember that it all seemed to happen in super slow motion.

Then I heard Logan saying, "Mary Anne, Mary Anne! Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"Don't move her," Dawn's voice said.

"Mary Anne, did you hit your head?"

"N-no," I said.

"Can you move your fingers and toes?" asked Dawn.

I experimented gingerly. "Yes." Then I groaned. "Owww. My leg hurts."

"You're all scraped up," said Logan. "I don't think you should move." I didn't feel like arguing because I didn't feel like moving. I felt more like crying. Instead I closed my eyes as Logan and Dawn lifted the bicycle off of me.

Then I heard a familiar voice say, "What happened? Do you kids need some help?"

"Mr. Braddock," said Dawn. "Mary Anne's

bike hit a pothole and she fell off and we don't know how badly she's hurt."

"We don't think it's serious," said Logan quickly and I knew he was trying to reassure me. "She didn't hit her head."

I opened my eyes to show Mr. Braddock I was still conscious. Logan smiled down at me and patted my hand.

Mr. Braddock said, "Still, better not take any chances. Let's take you over to the hospital, Mary Anne. It's a good thing I'm in the station wagon today."

Mr. Braddock's voice faded away. I closed my eyes again. I listened to the clatter of bicycles being loaded into the back of the station wagon. I heard Logan say, "We can all fit up front and Mary Anne can lie in the backseat."

A minute later, Mr. Braddock was bending over me. "We're going to get on either side of you and help you up, very slowly. If anything hurts suddenly, or you feel any sharp pain, let us know at once."

Together the three of them lifted me up. I didn't feel any sharp pains, just an all-over ache and burning sensation along my knees and calves — until I was standing up. "Owww," I moaned. "My leg. My foot."

"Put your arms over our shoulders. Logan, you get the door. Dawn and I are going to

carry you to the car. Don't put any weight on your left leg."

And that's what they did. I slid gratefully into the backseat and closed my eyes again. I kept them dosed until we reached the hospital.

The emergency room physician's assistant asked me a few questions about the accident and did a quick examination. Then I was put on a high gurney and wheeled into a room off to one side.

"She doesn't seem badly hurt. And we should be able to get to her fairly quickly,” said the assistant."

"I'll call Mom," I heard Dawn say. "She's my sister."

"May I stay with her?" asked Logan.

"For the time being," said the assistant. "But you must leave when we tell you to."

"I will," Logan promised.

A moment later, I felt Logan take my hand. "Don't worry. Everything will be okay."

I opened my eyes and smiled at him. My whole body ached and my ankle was starting to throb ferociously. And more than anything else in the world, I wanted my father.

But of course Dad couldn't come. And Logan was right. Everything was okay.

Sharon arrived in no time at all and took

charge of things expertly. When Logan and Dawn were banished to the waiting room, Sharon stayed with me. The doctor checked me over and asked me more questions, and then Sharon asked her at least half a dozen. Then there were X-rays and another consultation, this time with the physician's assistant.

"We've taken a look at the X-rays," he said. "No bones are broken, no serious injuries. Just a lot of painful scrapes and bruises that initially made things look worse than they are. And a badly sprained ankle. We're going to take off the temporary dressings on the abrasions and contusions and we're going to put that ankle in a soft brace and try to get you on your way as soon as possible."

He worked quickly and efficiently, I'm sure, but it seemed to take forever. I thought I was going to faint when he started work on my ankle. Tears came to my eyes and Sharon, who'd been sitting next to me, slipped a warm hand into mine. "Squeeze my hand," she said. "It'll help."

So I did. I must have practically broken her hand, but she never said a word. And when I was done, she told me she was proud of me for staying so calm.

She also wrote down all of the doctor's instructions and made sure that the nurse was

going to wheel me and my new crutches to the door of the emergency room and help settle me comfortably in the car.

I slept for several hours when I got home. When I woke up, Sharon and Dawn helped me limp from my room to the telephone. I called Dad and told him what had happened.

"Mary Anne! You're not badly hurt? No concussion? Did you hit your head?"

"No, they checked everything," I assured him. "It's a sprained ankle and lots of scrapes and bruises. A badly sprained ankle and lots and lots of scrapes.… Can you come home now, Daddy?"

I almost never call him Daddy anymore.

I heard my father hesitate. Then he said, "Sweetheart, is Sharon there? May I speak to her?"

Putting my hand over the mouthpiece, I called Sharon to the phone. She wasn't far away, just in the next room to give me some privacy while I talked to my dad.

"Hello, Richard," she said, her voice loving and calm. She listened a moment, then looked over at me and smiled slightly, smoothing my hair back.

"She was very brave. And she's going to be just fine. Don't worry, I have everything well in hand. And with Dawn as a first-class nurse and Mary Anne being such a good patient,

there's not a thing to worry about.… No, we're going to take her to her doctor in a few days…Yes."

I turned away, disappointed and fuming. I was hurt. Couldn't my father tell how hurt I was? Didn't he care? Was this the reward I got for being brave and calm in an emergency?