It’s weird because I think of comas as things you don’t come out of. I guess that’s because in the fourth grade I had a friend that fell off a horse and went into one. She never came out of it. I wasn’t in mine that long, though. Only a week. Still, it was long enough to scare my mom. My friends too. And not just them. Random people. It was weird. See, I’m not that popular at school, at least I wasn’t. But you would have never guessed it looking around my hospital room. When I woke, the place was packed with flowers and cards—a lot of them from people I hardly ever talked to. I guess the cool thing around school was to be friends with the girl in the coma, at least that’s what my friend Dakota tells me. Speaking of Dakota, he comes around a lot lately, sticks to me like glue. I’m not complaining. I like Dakota. I always have, always. It’s just weird to suddenly be getting such devoted attention from him. Until I had my car accident and went into that coma he treated me like a bud—like I was worthy of his friendship, since I’m part of his band, but that was about it.
