“What?”

  “Will I ever reach that place where I'm not having to forgive people or not having to ask them to forgive me?”

  She laughed. “I hope not.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, unless it's in heaven. I think that life on earth is always going to be about forgiving and loving—it's just the way humans are.”

  “Oh…” I nodded, trying to soak this in.

  So on my way home, I pulled over and dialed Dominic's number. I had to take care of this before youth group. No more parking lot scenes for this girl. The phone rang a few times, and I wondered if he was avoiding me. Finally it went to his messaging, and I decided to just go for it.

  “Hey, Dominic. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for the way I handled everything last Saturday. But I can't pretend like everything is okay either. I really do like you. And I don't think I'm too good for you. But there are things about our relationship that make me uncomfortable. And if you can't accept that, I don't really see how we can be a couple. Anyway, I'm sorry if I hurt you. I think you're a cool guy. And I hope that someday we can talk. But no yelling, okay?” Then I said “bye” and hung up. Part of me thought this could be the chicken way out, but another part of me felt good. I had said what I felt and not gotten distracted. I wasn't angry. I was simply honest. And the ball was in his court now.

  But Dominic wasn't at youth group tonight. Was it because of me? That thought made me sad. Later I wondered if Dominic, Brooke, and Amanda had all skipped youth group tonight because of me. Brooke and Amanda haven't been there for over a month. Then again, I may be taking myself too seriously. Or as Marissa would say, “Get over yourself, Maya.” Of course, this only reminds me that she decided to go to that stupid lake party tonight. When will she learn?

  August 17

  Kim woke me up early this morning. Odd, since it's Sunday, but I could tell by her creased brow that something was wrong.

  “What's up?” I asked groggily.

  “Dad just heard about it.”

  “What?” I sat up and waited.

  “Marissa.”

  “What?”

  “She's been in a really bad car wreck, Maya.”

  “How bad?” I whispered.

  She didn't say anything, but tears filled her eyes, and her hands were shaking.

  “How bad?” I asked again.

  “Dad said that she's alive…but it doesn't look good.”

  Kim gave some more details about the accident, but her words just seemed to float over my head, and everything seemed blurry and unreal. And I just sat there in shock and sobbed, deep aching sobs.

  I could hear Kim praying, but I wasn't sure I was even able. And then I stood up and yanked on my jeans and a sweatshirt and flip-flops. “Let's go!” I shouted at Kim.

  “Where?”

  “I've got to see Marissa.” I wiped my wet face with my sleeve.

  “I'll drive,” she offered, and I didn't argue. As she drove to the hospital, we took turns praying for Marissa. And that's when I realized my cousin loves Marissa almost as much as I do. Even so, I know that Marissa has been closer to me than to Kim. And I hoped I'd be able to see her. I wasn't sure how bad she was, but I just wanted to talk to her. I just wanted to tell her that I loved her, that God loved her, and that it wasn't too late.

  The receptionist told us that Marissa was still in ICU but that we could go to the waiting room up there. Marissa's dad, still in his cop uniform, was pacing back and forth and rubbing his hands together. A couple of other officers were sitting nearby with somber faces. Kim and I sat down across from them, and Kim asked if there was any news on Marissa.

  “They're trying to stabilize her,” one of the guys said with a hopeless look in his eyes.

  “How long has she been here?” I asked.

  “Since around two this morning,” the other cop said.

  “Was she driving?” I asked.

  “No.” Marissa's dad walked over to join us. “Her friend Eddie Valdez was driving. Driving Marissa's car.”

  “I'm so sorry,” I said.

  He just nodded and turned away.

  “How is Eddie?” I asked the cops across from us.

  “Better than Marissa. He had on his seat belt.”

  “Marissa was thrown from the car.”

  “Oh…” I glanced at Kim, and she reached over and took my hand.

  “Among other things, she suffered a serious head injury.” The policeman sighed and shook his head. “Pretty severe.”

  That's when the policemen introduced themselves as Officers Burns and Crandall. And Kim introduced us.

  “How did you girls hear about it?” asked Burns. Kim explained that her dad was the editor of the newspaper.

  “Oh, right, Allen Peterson,” said Crandall. “Nice guy.”

  “Do you think there's any chance that we can see Marissa?” I asked, knowing it was probably useless. “Just for a minute?”

  “They won't even let her dad in there yet.”

  “Do you think she'll…” My voice drifted off.

  “Maya is Marissa's best friend,” Kim explained. And although I wouldn't have laid claim to that title, I supposed it might be true. Marissa didn't have any other close friends. Not girls anyway.

  “Hey, you're that green girl on TV, aren't you?” Burns said.

  I nodded, but fresh tears were slipping out now.

  “Well, Marissa is lucky to have such a good friend,” Crandall said. Then he frowned. “Why weren't you with her tonight?” It wasn't an accusation. More just curious. Still, it made me mad.

  “I wish I had been with her,” I told him. “Then maybe this wouldn't have happened.”

  “Marissa's dad had warned her again and again about that—”

  “That's right,” said Adam, Marissa's dad. “But that's water under the bridge now.”

  “I know,” said Crandall quickly. “I'm just saying you did all you could—”

  “Did I?” Marissa's dad clenched his fists and shook them. “Did I really?” And then he broke down, collapsing onto a chair as his two buddies gathered around him, trying to show support. But really, what could they say? What could anyone say?

  “Let's pray,” Kim said quietly to me. And right there, just a few feet away from where Marissa's dad was sobbing, Kim began to pray out loud for Marissa. And her prayers were strong and full of faith. I joined her, hoping to have as much faith as she did. And before long, the policemen were praying too.

  We stayed at the hospital all day, but Marissa's condition remained the same. Word spread quickly, and by noon a lot of people from our church had come, including Josh and Caitlin and Chloe. Not long after that, Allie and Laura and several more of their friends—kids who had known Marissa for years—showed up as well. About twenty or more of us were all crowded in the waiting room. And we were all praying. Amid this crowd was Dominic, and I could tell he'd been crying as well. Then I remembered that Eddie was his friend too.

  Although my heart went out to Dominic, I wasn't ready to have a conversation with him yet. All I wanted to do was pray for Marissa. It's all I felt capable of doing. Nothing else mattered. Even now, as I sit in my room—emotionally drained and totally exhausted—writing in my journal because I can't sleep, I feel so helpless. All the things I've been worrying about seem minor now. All I can think about is Marissa and if she will live. The prognosis is not good. The doctor said she may not even make it through the night. Even so, I will keep praying. And I'll return to the hospital first thing in the morning, hoping for a miracle.

  August 18

  I guess the miracle is that Marissa is still alive. No one expected her to make it through the night. Of course she's still unconscious, and she's got tubes and wires and all sorts of things keeping her stabilized. But she's still here—just barely.

  This morning Marissa's dad was allowed five-minute “visits” with her. And by midafternoon, he asked if I wanted to see her too.

  “Are you sure it's okay?” I'd heard it was “family only.” Not that Marissa has much family.

  He nodded. “Marissa really likes you, Maya.”

  “I want to talk to her.”

  He nodded again, sadly. “I'm not sure she can hear you, but it's worth a try. I've said a lot of things myself.”

  So, feeling unsure but determined, I went into the ICU area and let myself into her room. Swallowing back the shock of seeing her like this, so broken and helpless, I went to the side of her bed and simply began to talk.

  “Marissa,” I said slowly, “I'm so sorry this happened to you. But I need to tell you some things, okay? First of all, I need to say that I really, really love you. And I don't think I've actually said that before. But it's true. I love you. In some ways you've felt almost like a sister to me. Okay, a dysfunctional sister, but, hey, that's kind of like my family. But besides that, I want you to know that God loves you, Marissa. He really, really loves you. Even more than I do. And He sent His Son Jesus so that if you believe in Him, you will live forever.”

  Tears were coming down my cheeks now. “I don't want you to die, but I know it's a possibility. And if you're leaving the planet, I want to make sure you know where you're going. I want to make sure you accept God's love and His forgiveness. It's like I've told you before, Marissa, I couldn't live without it. And you can't die without it.”

  Now, it could've been my imagination, but I thought her eyelashes fluttered just then. It might've just been an involuntary twitch. Whatever it was, I didn't get to stay and find out because the nurse was motioning to me that my time was up.

  “I love you, Marissa.” I eased away from her bed. “But God loves you even more. I hope you're listening.” By the time I closed the door behind me, I was crying hard. All I could do was return to the waiting room, where Kim and Chloe came over and hugged me.

  “How do you think she's doing?” Chloe asked.

  I shook my head. “I don't know.”

  I still don't know. By the time I left the hospital tonight, I knew only three things. Marissa is still alive. But she may not be alive tomorrow. All we can do is pray.

  Maya's Green Tip for the Day

  My only green tip today is that I hope God can recycle Marissa back into a healthy girl. I hate to say it, but the way she lived has been wasteful—I'm afraid she may have wasted the most precious and unrenewable resource on the planet…herself.

  August 23

  This has been the longest week of my life. Kim and Uncle Allen encouraged me to get back to normal activities. At the time I couldn't even remember what normal was. But they were worried that I was getting depressed. Well, who wouldn't be depressed? Each day at the hospital was just like the day before. Nothing changed. Nothing improved. Although I prayed and prayed, there seemed no reason to hope.

  Still, I think they were right. It has helped me to go back to work. I've visited Marissa in the mornings and then gone to Jacqueline's afterward. I even managed to do my news spots but only because the producer allowed me to mention my friend and ask for the community's prayers. I suppose I do need these distractions. I honestly don't know how Marissa's dad can bear it. He has been at the hospital 24/7, and in the past few days he has hardly left her side. When I confessed to him that I was having a tough time with all this, he wasn't a bit surprised. Then I told him that without God I wouldn't be able to endure it at all.

  “Marissa told me you were a Christian,” he said quietly. We were standing outside her room, waiting for the nurse to take her vitals and change her IV.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Then she got mad at me when I suggested she should go to church with you.” He shook his head. “I was always trying to change her.”

  “Or protect her.”

  He held up his hands. “Not that it helped.”

  “I am certain that Marissa loves you.”

  He seemed surprised. “I don't know why you'd say that. Marissa and I were always fighting over something. I'm sure she told you about it.”

  “She did. She also told me things that made me realize how much she cared about you.”

  I knew by his expression that he didn't believe me.

  “That's the main reason she didn't want to go away to college.”

  He just stared at me now, shaking his head. “She said that?”

  “Yes, it was a very private confession. But now that…well, I don't think she'd mind if I told you. She said that she knew you loved her but that you were trying too hard to make her toe the line.”

  “Probably why she rebelled so much.”

  “I don't know…”

  “I do.”

  “If it's any consolation, I said some of the same kinds of things to her. She always accused me of lecturing her.”

  “But she considered you a friend.”

  “I considered her a friend too. I love Marissa.” I was starting to cry again.

  “I'm glad you were her friend, Maya.” He had tears as well.

  “But she's still here.” I wanted to be hopeful. “She might make it.”

  “She might…” But I could tell as he said this, he didn't believe it. He'd given up.

  “Thousands of people are praying for her, Mr. Phillips.”

  He nodded and then blew his nose. “Yes. I appreciate that.”

  I wanted to say something else, something more encouraging. But he just turned and slowly walked away. He looked defeated, like he'd been beaten.

  The nurse finished, and with tears in my eyes, I went in to visit Marissa. But I didn't want her to know how discouraged I felt or how miserable her dad was just now. Not that she would really know. But just in case I kept my voice cheerful. And, as usual, I started out by talking naturally, like we were sitting at the mall having lunch together. Then I got more serious and told her how I loved her and how God loved her even more. And I read from the Bible—verses about believing in Jesus and eternal life. I told her about a place beyond death. A place that Jesus was preparing for us.

  “But I really want you to stick around, Marissa. I need you. I want you to fight this and to get well. I am praying for a miracle. And lots of others are praying too. We want you back.”

  I continued talking, like I always do, just rambling on and on. Sometimes, like today, I feel silly, like I am fooling myself. Some of her other close friends, like Chloe and Allie, have been allowed to visit her too. And they've been doing the same thing. Although there's no way to know if she can hear any of this, we think it could help. And an older nurse named Carmen assured me that it could make a difference.

  “I've talked to patients who recover from comas, and I'm amazed at how much they could perceive while they were unconscious,” she told me a day or two ago. “The brain is a very mysterious thing.”

  “Do you think she'll wake up?” I asked hopefully.

  “Only God knows, dear.”

  And I know that's true, but I'll admit that I'm getting impatient. At the same time, I'm glad Marissa is still here. I imagine her listening to us, trapped inside her motionless body, taking in our words and processing the Bible verses and our invitations to eternal life…and I try to believe that God is at work. I try to have faith. But it's not easy.

  Sometimes I feel like I'm on an emotional roller-coaster ride of my own. I go through bouts of feeling guilty, like why didn't I say more to her? Why didn't I keep her from going to the lake party? Or why didn't I go with her and make sure she got safely home? Then I get angry and think, how is it fair that her selfish choices are now hurting everyone? Why does one person get to hold dozens of others hostage like this? Of course that just makes me feel guilty. How can I think such horrid thoughts when someone I love is so close to death? Then I get sad and wonder what it would feel like to be Marissa right now. Stuck in some kind of life-or-death limbo. And so I pray and try to muster up enough faith to move a mountain. Up and down and all around, I wonder when the ride will end.

  But there have been a couple of bright spots in my week. On Wednesday morning at the hospital, Dominic took me aside to talk. Fortunately, he kept it short and sweet. I'm sure that's all I could take.

  “I'm so sorry, Maya. I realize what a complete jerk I've been. And I'm really sorry. I hope you'll forgive me.”

  “I do forgive you,” I said quickly. “And I'm sorry too.”

  “Yeah, I got your message. Thanks.”

  “And maybe…when things settle down…maybe we can talk about it.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, when things settle down. And just so you know, I'm going to be meeting with Josh on a weekly basis now. Kind of like you do with Caitlin.”

  I looked at him like this was a surprise. “That's cool.”

  “Yeah. I think I need to grow up some.”

  “I think we all do.” I glanced over to the ICU area. “Marissa is a good reminder of that.”

  “Eddie's doing a lot better,” he said.

  “Yeah, I talked to him yesterday. Sounds like he'll be released in a few days.”

  “He's miserable over what happened to Marissa.”

  “I know. He told me that they'd both had too much to drink. But he convinced her that he was sober enough to drive.” Just saying this made my eyes fill with tears. “I told Marissa so many times”—I choked on my words—“to be careful…not to go…that it was dangerous.”

  Dominic put his arms around me. Not in that passionate way, but in a pure brotherly hug, and I rested there awhile. Just crying.

  “I'm sure Marissa wishes she'd listened,” he said quietly.

  “I just hope she's listening now.”

  The second bright spot in my week was when I ran into Brooke at the hospital. She was actually bringing a bouquet of flowers, but I could tell she was not happy to see me. It looked like she'd planned to just drop them off and go, but I decided to jump right in.

  “Do you have a minute?” I asked.

  “My mom's out in the car.”

  “Well, I can walk out to the car with you.”

  “That's okay,” she said quickly. “I have a minute.”

  So we sat in the main lobby, and I began. “Look, I know this thing with the lawsuit turned into a real mess. And I'm pretty sure you regret faking a serious injury. But I wasn't exactly perfect either. I said some pretty mean things, and I don't think that's how Jesus would act. So I just want to say I'm sorry, Brooke. And I hope we can put it behind us.”