Jenna huffed in his face leaning over her. If that meant she couldn’t stay with Amber, she was not buying into it. Her mom squeezed her arm. Claire hadn’t let go of it through the entire ordeal. Nor had her dad let go of her hand. They were on her right side. The left side she did not even want to think about. Claire said, “Honey, you’ll come home with us, at least for one night.” “I need to be with Amber, Mom. She doesn’t have anybody here.” Jenna’s entire body felt numb, but she shivered uncontrollably beneath a thin blanket. The fifty-something, gray-haired doctor handed a clipboard to the nurse beside him. He did not follow her from the room, but slid off his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jenna,” he said, “there’s a bruise on the back of your head the size of Iowa. You’ve just had fifteen stitches sewn into your arm. Not to mention the trauma you experienced while sitting twenty yards from an exploding bomb. What you need is some very serious rest, young lady.”
