Chapter 4

The volunteers pulled me onto a rescue boat. After three rounds of CPR, I finally coughed up water and had a faint heartbeat.

When we got to the hospital in the city, the ER doctor took one look at me before his expression turned grim.

"Patient experienced drowning and prolonged oxygen deprivation. Her lungs are full of fluid! Prepare to intubate and notify the operating room!"

Then he shouted into the hallway, "Where's her family? We need a family member to sign!"

Footsteps came from down the hall.

Mom walked over without a hint of urgency. "Who told you to save her?"

Everyone was stunned.

"She's still alive, isn't she? I bet she's faking it. She's been pretending since she was little," Mom said.

A nurse was the first to react. She snapped, "What did you just say? If we'd gotten there 30 seconds later, she would've died! Sign the surgical consent form now. If you delay any longer, no one can save her!"

Mom ignored the nurse. She turned to Jewel, who was standing in the corner.

Jewel's face was ghostly white. Her lips trembled, but she couldn't get a word out.

Mom looked at her and spoke calmly. "Have you learned your lesson yet?"

Jewel nodded frantically. Her tears fell onto the floor.

"Nodding isn't enough," Mom said.

She pulled a pen from her purse, grabbed a sheet of paper from the nurses' station, and slapped it in front of Jewel.

"Write a 300-word apology. Once you're done and admit what you did wrong, I'll sign the consent form."

The nurse shouted, "Are you out of your mind? That child inside is waiting for surgery! Every minute you delay—"

Mom cut her off without even looking at her. "I'm disciplining my daughter. It's none of your business."

Then she pulled up a chair, sat down, and took out her phone to scroll through short clips.

The doctor rushed out of the ER again. "The patient's family! Have you signed the surgical consent form yet?"

No one answered him.

Jewel was bent over the hallway bench, her hand shaking so badly she could barely hold the pen. She wrote one word at a time, stopping whenever tears fell onto the paper and blurred the ink.

She stopped and looked up at Mom, saying, "Mom, please just sign it first. This whole thing wasn't Alice's fault."

"It wasn't her fault." Mom didn't even look up from her phone. "But she has to pay the price so you'll remember what you did wrong. If you have time to argue with me, you have time to finish writing."

Jewel bit her lip, then she lowered her head and kept writing.

Her trembling hand made her writing crooked, and every line was soaked with tears before she could finish it.

Dad glanced at the sign outside the ER, then at Mom, who was still sitting there scrolling through her phone. "Lucinda, that's enough. Just sign it. Alice is—"

"You always say 'that's enough'." Mom finally looked up. "That's why Jewel never learns. Stay out of it."

Dad fell silent.

Just then, Jewel stopped writing. She slid off the bench and collapsed onto the floor, holding up the tear-stained paper.

"Mom, I'm done! Please save Alice! Please!"

Mom took the paper from her and read it carefully. She said, "Your handwriting is still a little sloppy. That won't do for your exams, but I'll let it go this time."

Mom folded the paper, put it in her purse, and slowly stood up.

She looked toward the ER operating theater, almost sounding wistful. "This time, Alice really suffered. But if it taught you a lesson, then her punishment was worth it.

"Once this hurricane passes, I'll buy her a couple of new dresses to make it up to her. I'm just doing this for her own good."

Mom turned to the nurse and picked up a pen. "Bring me the surgical consent form."

Just then, the light above the ER went out.

The doctor walked out and removed his mask. "There's no longer any need to sign the surgical consent form. We couldn't save the patient. She's gone."