My next call was an ankle call, something that those in EMS joked were all we saw. Occasionally, EMS would refer to itself as the Emergency Mommy Service, for when things really didn’t need 911. I always ran anyway. Everyone else seemed to be faster at getting to where we needed to be. They must have known shortcuts. Or perhaps they just were faster runners. I needed to run to get there even vaguely at the same time.

This time, I arrived right behind Carl who was not sweating and looked completely put together. The stitch in my side told me that I looked like the opposite.

“How many calls have you done?” Carl said.

“Probably around 14 now.”

“Great. Then it’s time for you to start leading.”

I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to slow my tiring lungs. I straightened my uniform and did what I was told. I attempted to lead the call.

The girl who had called us was seated to the side of a basketball court. She had her legs stretched out in front of her and she was cheering her intramural teammates on. I introduced myself and Carl and asked to see her ankle. She obliged, shifting her head as if I was blocking her view of the game.

“Does this hurt?” I said, pressing gently on each part of her ankle to locate where best to wrap it.

“Ow,” she said, the moment I asked. I looked up at Carl, who was watching while standing next to the police.

I continued my examination, hoping that Carl would jump in if I did anything terrible. I removed an elastic bandage from my jump kit and began to wrap her ankle trying not to hurt her. When I was done, I looked at Carl. I had no idea how to assess whether or not she should go to the hospital.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Carl said.

I looked at my boots. Of course that was how you assessed it.

“Me? Hell no,” she said. “I have a test tomorrow.”

I have a test tomorrow too, I thought. But I’m here with you.

“Alright, then. Now that Andi here has wrapped your ankle, let’s see if you can walk.”

She stood and walked around like she had never been injured.

Carl nodded and read her the “You have a right to an ambulance and you are leaving medical care and are now responsible for your health” speech and had her sign on the line.

“You have magic ace bandages,” he said as we were leaving.

I laughed. “I think she wanted out of that game.”

“Very astute. You did well, but that wasn’t a pass. You’ll have to call on scene, and figure out if they need to go to the hospital if it’s going to be a pass.”

And from then on, that was my mission. Three passes would be my ticket to being a real member, a full-fledged friend in the eyes of the rest of the EMS crew, a competent medical provider my family would have to respect. All I had to do was pass three calls, get the signatures of three people that were a higher rank than I was and not kill anyone in the process. I was as sure as an American Idol auditionee that I could do it. I knew Ruby had already passed a call: a paper cut (“laceration”) that she had finished in less than ten minutes. She had been ecstatic, the first of our class to pass a call, which made her our superior. She had started lending advice, free of cost and against our desire, telling us what we should and should not do with patients.

She had had even less experience with EMS that I had when she joined. And she only joined because I had been going to the information sessions and the barbeque. But John had assured me that I was on the right track the last time we had hung out. Ever since I had recovered from the flu, we had been spending time together, going to get ice cream, watching silly movies featuring dogs trying to save the world and trying to best each other at thumb wrestling (I almost always won). Lily and Carl had started hanging out around the same time, and so had Ruby and Akul. I wasn’t sure why everyone had paired up so well but I had heard of groups of friends doing this before.

During one of our “dates”, John had taken me over to the jukebox at the diner we were eating at and put in some quarters. He asked me to choose my favorite song. I think he was looking for me to choose something romantic. I chose “Pressure” by Billy Joel. He laughed and twirled me back to our booth. He took my face in his hand and brushed my hair away from my cheek. I froze, feeling that ever-present fire burning down my neck. I was sure I looked like a tomato. He brought his face closer. His eyes queried mine, trying to gauge if I was okay. And then his lips brushed against mine and fireworks exploded behind my tomato red face.

I was all smiles. I realized that I had wanted him to kiss me for weeks. I kept trying to focus on what I was doing in the present moment, and couldn’t because the daydreams were crashing in on my thoughts like tidal waves. He started coming over and hanging out in my room. We both always hoped that she would leave so we could be alone. On our fourth try, she finally left, saying she was going to eat waffles with Lily.

We fell into the pile of blankets in my bed, trying to keep our lips connected as we moved. I ran my hands across his shoulders, pulling him closer.

He had paused. “Are you on the pill?”

I nodded. One of the few things I could thank my mother for. We pulled off our clothes inch-by-inch, afraid of scaring the other person into running with any sudden movements. Blood began to pump through my body. I pulled him on top of me, hitting my head in the process.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” I said laughing as we tumbled together.

I watched as he kissed down my body. I felt like the Queen of the World, the one Carl had talked about. The one I could be with John. We guided each other, moving and twisting, exploring new territory, trying to make it familiar.

“Relax,” he said, pushing harder against me. “It’s okay.”

I smiled and rode a blissful wave, hoping that it would carry me far away.