Flint and I went to Schenley Park to blow off some steam. We had to get out of the dorms before we went crazy. The whole walk there, Flint told ghost stories about clowns escaping from asylums and babysitters left alone. He sprinkled in facts about the number of recent bear sightings. I pretended that I was calm, trying to form a wall of logic to prevent the terror from seeping in.

We lay down on our backs in the dewy grass, basking in the cool darkness that blanketed everything we could see.

“I feel like it is fate that I met you right now,” Flint said.

“Me too,” I said, trying on the words to see if they fit.

“You’re a closed book, Andi.” He rolled over onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “What are you hiding?”

I thought about my mother’s call, the one that should have saved us. I thought about my brother being loaded into an ambulance with my father standing by. I saw myself in the reflective window, watching, not being able to do anything. I looked up at him and prayed he couldn’t see through me. There was no way for him to understand, but he wanted an answer anyway.

I pulled his lion’s mane of hair towards me, drawing his face to mine. He paused and I wondered if he needed the answer to his question more than he needed me. But the moment passed and our lips met. We kissed, rolling up and down the small dunes that formed below the grass, each searching for something to hold on to. The darkness sent chills through me but when he pulled me close by the small of my back, the strength of my emotions lit a candle in my stomach. No answer could have been its equal.

* * *

My first shift was on that Wednesday. They had asked us to sign up for one 24-hour shift every two weeks ahead of time. They said if we wanted to take more duty, we would be able to sign up at 6 pm (they called it 1800), the day of, for a shift at 9 pm (or 2100). They called it sniping.

I called the office to ask to be let in. Only full-fledged members had key cards that gave them access to the office whenever they wanted. I had to be allowed in. The sarcastic girl, Sandy, from the weekend opened the door.

I moved into the office, feeling out of place for the first time. Everyone had something to do, and I was just standing there, useless. I followed someone into a small side room and watched them as they shoved medical equipment into a blue bag, branded with a big blue asterisk known as the star of life.

Sandy came up behind me. “First shift, right? Go get a jump kit and a checklist. I’ll walk you through it.”

As if it was that easy. I sidled into the storage room and selected one of the blue bags. Upon opening it, I discovered that it was nearly empty. I shouldered it and searched through the clutter to find a sheet that looked like a checklist. The problem was that all the sheets of paper looked like checklists and none of them seemed relevant to the bag I had on my shoulder. I finally found a sheet entitled “Jump Kit Checklist” and stood by the sarcastic girl who had taken charge of my initial shift.

“Fill the jump kit up with the equipment in the closet, counting everything out. You don’t want to show up on scene without your equipment. That’s embarrassing.”

I retreated to the closet, regretting my choice of the empty bag. The other guy hadn’t had to fill up his jump kit.

I placed gauze pads and trauma sheers and oral glucose in their correct amounts in different pockets. I evaluated each piece of equipment before it made it in, willing it to help me through this night without making a fool of myself in front of these people. When I was done, I presented it to the girl and let her inspect it.

“Good,” she said. “Do you have a watch? A belt? Boots?”

I showed her each item as she asked.

“A knife?” someone said from the other room.

She closed her eyes. “People around here think they’re cool because they carry knives.”

I nodded like that bothered me too.

“I’m sure you learned everything you could in New Member Training but I’ll tell you a little more about the organization they left out. A lot of people in here are what we call whackers, people who take pride in the intensity with which they love EMS. They do EMS all the time, to the point where it consumes their lives. They carry knives, wear combat boots and are always telling you about how cool their last call was.”

I looked around, checking to see if she was offending anyone in the office. They seemed to be in agreement with her.

“Don’t date anyone in EMS. And definitely don’t bake for anyone in EMS.”

“What does that mean?” I said.

“Maybe I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“That’s how…” a girl closer to my age started.

Sandy silenced her with a glare. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.”

I silently prayed that I would. That sounded like an insiders secret to me.

“Oh, and try to stay away from John. He might end up in your bed somehow.” The two girls high-fived and walked into the next room.

The statement triggered images that I tried to suppress. I wondered what was so bad about John and him ending up in my bed. Was there something wrong with John that I didn’t know? I sat on a rolling desk chair for a while, watching people watch TV on their computers. No one said anything further to me that night until I asked if I could sleep in my own room that night.

“You live on campus?” they said. “You can stay in the dorms at night.”

I smuggled myself back into my room, surprised that I’d rather be with Ruby than with the EMS crew. I felt exhausted from putting on a show all weekend and then again today. I just wanted to let the darkness of sleep hide me for a moment while I recharged from being what everyone wanted to see.

Ruby rolled over when I arrived at our room. “First shift? I’ll take your picture if you get a call.”

I smiled. I would actually like that. “Thanks, Ruby.”

“The tones will wake me up. You should probably turn your radio way up. I was told people sleep through them. Those people never advance.”

I lay awake, clenching my bed sheets in my fists to keep my eyes open. I refused to fall asleep and be the first probie to miss a call. I would never advance. The light from my alarm clock glowered red, daring me to sleep. It showed 4:07. I knew I would regret not sleeping.

A high-pitched foghorn noise invented by someone with a blackened soul woke me. The fear and adrenaline sent me straight towards the wall. My head cracked against the corner of the bed as I cursed the organization for not preparing me for how vicious their call to action was.

Ruby didn’t move at all. Of course she could sleep through the sound of hell breaking loose. I sighed, letting go of the hope of a picture.

“Station to EMS.” They paused to wait for a response.

“EMS, go ahead.” The sarcastic girl did not sound happy.

“Please respond to the basement of Cosby Library for a female who is currently having a seizure.”

Adrenaline surged through my blood catapulting me into a run. I threw open doors and pumped my legs as hard as I could. From my radio, I heard, “That’s received. You can show EMS en route. All available units, please call in.”

I waited my turn and then spoke. “p5 from the crossroads.”

“p5 and 20, you can continue on. All other units, disregard.”

The light at the crossroads changed and I started running again, promising myself again that I would get into shape so this didn’t cause my lungs to light on fire.

Two bikes zipped past me. Akul, callsign 20, called back, “See you at the call.”

I sped up. There was no way I was going to miss this call because I had short legs.

When I arrived, the patient was already surrounded by EMS. I stood by Akul and tried to look authoritative. The patient didn’t look like she was having a seizure. She looked like she was taking a nap. Beside us, a large group of students had decided to abandon their homework and crowd in on us. I questioned why they were doing homework at 4 am.

“You can try a sternal rub if she’s still unresponsive,” Akul said.

I nodded like I knew what that meant. I took my hand and gently touched her sternum.

Akul belly laughed. “No, like this.” He pulled his hand into a fist and demonstrated pushing on her sternum with his knuckles. “Now you.”

I did as he said. The patient made a sound. I moved away, afraid I had hurt her.

Akul gave me a thumbs up. “That means she is still breathing. It’s good that she’s responsive to pain.”

“Now, take vitals.” Akul said.

I could do that. I pulled the stethoscope out of my bag and started trying to assess the girl’s pulse, blood pressure and breathing rate.

For the rest of the call, I sat back on my heels and watched. Akul and Sandy operated in sync, each knowing what role they played. I felt like an extra finger that someone might try to chop off to restore balance. The paramedics that worked for the city of Pittsburgh came and put her on a stretcher. By that time, she was awake and talking and very unhappy she wasn’t going to be able to spend the night studying. We packed up our bags and walked out of the library, leaving the studying students in our wake. We formed a triangle; Akul and I followed Sandy. It felt like Mean Girls.

Sandy turned to 20. “Akul, explain to me what happened.”

Akul started spewing words like “post-ictal” and naming medications like a pro. My head spun like the girl in the Exorcist. He threw terms back and forth with Sandy. Then, the turned their attention on me, the last thing I wanted.

“How did you think that went?”

“Um, good?” I said. “She didn’t die.”

They laughed. “No, she didn’t. It was just a seizure. She’ll be fine.”

“Good on vitals. Were you nervous?”

“A little,” I said.

“It didn’t show. Learning the sternal rub on the spot, maybe not such a good idea, but we can blame Akul for that. Ask people to teach you things during shift change or you won’t learn anything and you’ll be doing vitals forever.”

She said vitals like it meant shoveling horseshit.

Back at the room, I set myself back up for the fastest room exit possible, setting my radio next to my head and my jump kit and shoes by the door. Sleeping in jeans and a t-shirt was causing me to sweat but I stayed in my uniform, as I had been instructed to do. I checked my phone for texts, as if someone else would have been up at 4 am too, and climbed onto my plastic excuse for a mattress.