Page 80 of Not Quite Dead Yet

‘I can do it with one hand. I’m not useless.’

Jet stepped the other leg through, found the floor. Pulled the jeans up to her knees, left hand moving from one side to the other, wriggling as she yanked them up over her thighs, breathless with the effort. The ass was the hardest part, but she wouldnotask Billy for help – she didn’t need his help,she could do this, she would not be useless. She tucked the hospital gown up and yanked the jeans the rest of the way, knocking into her dead arm, making it sway.

‘There,’ she exhaled. ‘I did it.’

She glanced down at her waistband, the zipper gaping open.

Fuck.

‘I can’t,’ she started. ‘I can’t … Can you –’

‘– Do the button?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, her voice now smaller than his.

Billy stepped forward and Jet averted her eyes as he reached down, pulled the zipper up for her, fastened the button, his fingers grazing the flesh of her belly, her heart not hiding in her gut anymore, but in her ears, burning.

‘Done,’ he said, not waiting for a thanks. Which was good, because Jet wasn’t giving it. But if she had to be useless in front of someone, maybe she would have chosen Billy Finney anyway. She didn’t use to mind, when she banged her knee falling off her bike, and he would fix it for her.

Jet sighed, picked up her bra, avoiding Billy’s eyes, and he hers.

Nowthatwas too far.

She stuffed it into her jacket pocket instead, along with her T-shirt, and draped her jacket over one shoulder. The hospital probably had enough of these gowns anyway. And what were they going to do about it: arrest her for theft?

‘Jet, are you OK?’ Billy asked, still looking away.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Like I said, nothing has changed. I was always dying. I always had a week. Come on, we better get going. My murder isn’t going to solve itself.’

Jet stopped at the top of the steps, left hand to the wall. Right swinging by her side.

‘What are you all doing here?’ she asked, narrowing hereyes at the group of people standing outside Billy’s apartment, too many voices, clogging up the hall.

Detective Ecker, Jack Finney, the chief, and Jet’s parents.

‘There you are,’ her mom said, breathy with relief. ‘We’re looking for you. Where have you been?’

‘At the hospital,’ Billy answered from the step behind, before Jet could intervene. She would have preferred her mom not know that, because she was only going to –

‘– The hospital?’ Dianne snapped, eyes wide. ‘Why – what’s happened?’

Yep, she was only going to make a big deal out of it. Thanks, Billy.

‘Nothing,’ Jet said, nudging Billy with her elbow, the one that worked. ‘The aneurysm has started to leak, and I can’t move my arm anymore.’

Jet pointed to the arm in question, limp at her side in the jacket sleeve.

‘What do you mean you can’t move your arm?’ Dianne’s voice pitched higher. ‘Show me.’

Jet blinked. ‘I can’t show you – that’s the point. It looks like an arm that can’t move, Mom. Not much to see.’

‘Did the doctors give you anything for it?’

Jet pursed her lips. ‘Yeah, some magical pills to grow another arm.’

‘I should have been there, Jet. You never ask the right questions –’

‘– What are you all doing here?’ That was the right question now, Jet’s eyes moving to the cops instead, to Billy’s dad, because she knew his face best, searched it for answers.