The house was still in the early hours of the morning, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the soft rustling of leaves outside. The faint light of the moon spilled through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. I was deep in sleep when I felt a tug on my blanket, faint at first, then insistent.

Groggy, I blinked into the dim light and made out a small figure standing by my bed. It was Lily. Her hands clutched her side, and her face was pale, almost ghostly in the faint moonlight.

"Emily," she whispered, her voice trembling and weak. "My tummy hurts. Really bad."

I sat up immediately, my heart pounding as the remnants of sleep fled. The sight of her, so small and vulnerable, sent a surge of worry through me. "Where does it hurt?" I asked, sliding out of bed and crouching to her level.

She pointed to the lower right side of her stomach, her hand trembling. "Here. It's sharp, and it won't go away."

"Okay," I said, forcing calm into my voice even as my thoughts raced. "Let's find Mrs. Blake."

I guided Lily out of my room, her steps slow and careful as though every movement hurt. We moved quietly through the house, the air heavy with the kind of silence that makes every sound louder. Mrs. Blake's room was empty, her bed neatly made, and the light off.

"She's not here," I murmured to myself, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. I checked the kitchen, the living room, even the small bathroom, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Where is she?" Lily asked, her voice barely audible, each word a struggle.

"She might be outside," I said, glancing toward the front door. But the urgency in Lily's face pushed aside the idea of waiting any longer. "Don't worry, Lily. I'll take care of this."

I helped her settle on the couch, grabbing a blanket to drape over her trembling form. She clutched her stomach, her breaths shallow and uneven. The sight made my chest tighten. I picked up the phone, my hands shaking as I dialed 911.

The line rang once, and then a calm, steady voice answered. "911, what's your emergency?"

"Hi," I said, my voice quivering despite my efforts to stay composed. "I'm calling because my friend Lily's stomach is hurting really bad. She says it's sharp pain on the right side."

The operator's tone was reassuring. "Okay. How old is she?"

"She's eight," I said, glancing over at Lily. Her small frame looked even smaller curled up on the couch, her face twisted in pain.

"Is she able to walk? Is she running a fever or vomiting?"

"She can walk, but it's hard for her," I said. "I don't think she has a fever, but I'm not sure."

"Stay with her," the operator instructed. "We're dispatching an ambulance to your address now. Keep her as comfortable as possible. Is there an adult with you?"

"My foster parent, Mrs. Blake, is outside, I think," I said, realizing with a jolt that I hadn't checked the porch.

"Go find her, but stay on the line," the operator said.

I set the phone on the table, speaker on, and opened the front door. The cool night air hit me, crisp and sharp. Mrs. Blake was sitting on the porch, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of tea in her hand. The sight of her, so calm and unaware, made my chest tighten further.

She turned, startled by my expression. "What's wrong?" she asked, setting her cup down as she stood.

"It's Lily," I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. "Her stomach hurts really bad. I called 911, and the ambulance is on its way."

Her face went pale, the calm demeanor replaced by sharp worry. "Good," she said, her voice steady despite her alarm. "Let's go to her."

We hurried back inside. Mrs. Blake knelt beside Lily, stroking her hair and murmuring reassurances. Lily whimpered softly, her pain clear in her every movement.

The distant wail of sirens pierced the night, growing louder with each second. The flashing red and blue lights painted the walls of the living room, a surreal reminder of the urgency of the situation.

When the paramedics arrived, they moved with calm precision, asking questions and assessing Lily's condition. One of them turned to Mrs. Blake, their expression serious. "We need to get her to the hospital quickly to determine the cause of the pain."

Mrs. Blake nodded, her voice steady despite the tears glistening in her eyes. "I'll ride with her."

As they lifted Lily onto the stretcher, she whimpered but didn't protest. Her small hand reached out, and I squeezed it briefly, trying to convey reassurance I wasn't sure I felt.

Mrs. Blake turned to me as the paramedics wheeled Lily toward the ambulance. "You did the right thing, Emily. You acted like part of this family, and I'm proud of you."

Her words caught me off guard, and I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

As the ambulance pulled away, its sirens fading into the distance, I stood on the porch, the cold air biting at my skin. The quiet returned, heavier now. I stared after the disappearing lights, a mixture of helplessness and determination swirling in my chest.

Lily would be okay. She had to be.

I couldn't go to the hospital. Mrs. Blake had insisted I go to school, promising to call as soon as there was news about Lily. Still, the weight in my chest hadn't lifted since the ambulance had driven off.

I trudged through the school's front doors, my footsteps dragging as I joined the stream of kids hurrying inside. The usual morning buzz of laughter, chatter, and locker doors slamming seemed distant, muffled under the heavy cloud of worry that hung over me.

The hallways were bright, the chatter lively, but none of it felt real. My mind was far away, replaying the moment Lily clutched her side, her face pale and twisted in pain. Every detail felt etched into my brain—the sound of her shaky voice, the way she winced at the slightest movement, the fear in her eyes as the paramedics lifted her onto the stretcher.

I made it to my homeroom and slid into my seat, barely aware of the conversations buzzing around me. A classmate waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me back to reality.

"Hey, Earth to Emily. You okay?" they asked, their tone half-teasing, half-concerned.

"Yeah," I said quickly, forcing a weak smile. "Just tired."

They shrugged and turned back to their conversation, but the brief exchange left me feeling even more out of place.

The morning dragged on, each class blending into the next. Math was a blur of numbers and formulas I couldn't make sense of. History was nothing more than a monotone lecture about events that felt irrelevant compared to what Lily might be going through. Even science, my favorite subject, couldn't hold my attention.

Every so often, I'd glance at the clock, watching the seconds tick by with agonizing slowness. My thoughts were consumed by questions I couldn't answer: Was Lily okay? Had the doctors figured out what was wrong? What if it was something serious?

At lunchtime, I sat at my usual table, picking at my food without appetite. The hum of the cafeteria felt overwhelming—the clinking of trays, the laughter and shouts, the endless swirl of conversations I couldn't follow. My friends chatted around me, their voices a blur.

"Emily, you've barely touched your food," one of them said, their tone concerned.

"I'm just not hungry," I mumbled, pushing a piece of bread around my tray.

"You're not sick, are you?" another asked, leaning in slightly.

"No," I said quickly, not wanting to explain. "I'm fine."

But I wasn't fine. The ache in my chest hadn't eased, and the uncertainty gnawed at me. I wanted to call Mrs. Blake, but I knew I couldn't. What if she was in the middle of talking to the doctors? What if she was in the hospital room with Lily? I couldn't interrupt.

The afternoon classes felt even longer than the morning. The ticking of the clock was like a metronome for my anxiety, each tick a reminder that I still didn't know anything. By the time the final bell rang, I felt like I'd been holding my breath all day.

As I gathered my things and headed for the door, I heard my name over the intercom. "Emily Saunders, please report to the office."

My heart leapt into my throat. Had Mrs. Blake called? Was it about Lily? I hurried to the office, my hands gripping the straps of my backpack tightly. The receptionist greeted me with a kind smile and handed me the phone.

"It's your foster parent," she said softly.

I swallowed hard and took the receiver. "Mrs. Blake?"

"Hi, Emily," she said, her voice calm but tired. "I wanted to let you know that Lily's in surgery. The doctors think it's her appendix. They're confident she'll be okay, but it was a good thing you called when you did."

Relief flooded me, and I felt my knees go weak. "She's going to be okay?"

"Yes," Mrs. Blake said gently. "She'll need some time to recover, but she's in good hands."

"Thank you for telling me," I said, my voice trembling with a mix of emotions.

"You're part of this family, Emily," Mrs. Blake said. "You deserve to know. I'll call you again as soon as the surgery is done."

When the call ended, I stood there for a moment, the tension in my chest slowly easing. Lily was going to be okay. She had to be.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was more distracted than ever. The entire morning had felt like I was walking through a fog, my mind too tangled with worry to focus on anything else. As I entered the cafeteria, the clatter of trays and the hum of conversation seemed louder than usual, grating against my already frayed nerves.

Jasmine was already at our usual table, her tray piled high with food—pizza, a carton of milk, and a slice of chocolate cake she'd probably sweet-talked the lunch lady into giving her. She looked up as I approached, her cheerful expression fading as soon as she saw my face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, setting her tray down and leaning forward, her tone more serious than usual.

I sank into the seat across from her, setting down my lunch bag with little enthusiasm. My stomach churned with a mix of hunger and anxiety, but I couldn't bring myself to eat. I unwrapped my sandwich, more out of habit than appetite, and began picking at the crust.

"It's Lily," I said finally, my voice low. "She woke up this morning in a lot of pain. We had to call an ambulance."

Jasmine's eyes widened, the carefree energy she usually carried replaced by genuine concern. "Oh my gosh," she said, her voice soft but urgent. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know," I admitted, my throat tightening as I spoke. "Mrs. Blake went to the hospital with her, but I haven't heard anything yet. They think it might be something serious."

The words hung between us, heavier than I'd expected them to feel. Saying it out loud made it more real, more frightening.

"That's scary," Jasmine said, her brow furrowing as she reached for her milk but didn't drink it. "But Lily's tough, right? And Mrs. Blake is with her. She'll make sure Lily gets the help she needs. You know that."

I nodded, her words well-meaning, but they didn't quiet the storm of worry in my chest. "I just hate not knowing," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "Not knowing if she's okay, if they figured out what's wrong. It's the waiting that's the worst."

Jasmine rested her chin on her hand, her expression thoughtful. "I get it," she said. "But Lily's got the best possible person with her right now. And, honestly, you did everything right this morning. You called for help, and that's what matters. You were there for her."

Her words hit me in a way I hadn't expected. I'd been so consumed by my worry and guilt for not being at the hospital that I hadn't stopped to think about that.

"Maybe you'll hear something by the end of the day," Jasmine added, giving me a hopeful smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Do you want me to come over later? I can keep you company, maybe help take your mind off things."

"Thanks, Jasmine," I said, managing a small smile of my own. "I'll let you know."

She nodded and started picking at her food, giving me space to process. I stared down at my sandwich, wondering if I should try to eat, but the idea of swallowing anything felt impossible.

Around us, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual chaos—kids laughing, trading food, shouting across tables—but it all felt distant, like I was watching it from behind a thick pane of glass. My thoughts drifted back to Lily. I pictured her small frame on the stretcher, her hand clutching her stomach, her face twisted in pain. The image wouldn't leave me, no matter how much I tried to push it aside.

Jasmine reached across the table and gave my hand a quick squeeze, her way of reminding me she was there. I looked up and nodded, grateful for the gesture even though I didn't have the words to say it.

For the rest of lunch, we sat in silence, the unspoken understanding between us more comforting than any words could have been.

Gym class was next, and I forced myself to change and join the others on the basketball court. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, their harsh glare bouncing off the polished wood floors. The familiar squeak of sneakers and the rhythmic thud of basketballs echoed through the gym, mingling with the shouts of my classmates.

The teacher had us running drills—passing, dribbling, shooting—and for a little while, the physical activity was a welcome distraction. I focused on the rhythm of the game, letting the motion of running and the simple goal of sinking a basket push away the cloud of worry hanging over me.

"Nice pass, Emily!" someone called as I lobbed the ball to a teammate.

I nodded, managing a faint smile. For a moment, I almost felt normal, like my mind wasn't a storm of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios.

Trevor, who usually couldn't resist making some snide comment or trying to show off, was surprisingly quiet today. Whether it was because of our last confrontation or something else entirely, I didn't care. His silence was a small mercy, one less thing to deal with.

But even as I tried to lose myself in the drills, the image of Lily kept surfacing in my mind. I'd see her pale face and pained expression, hear her shaky voice telling me her stomach hurt. It was like a shadow following me, impossible to shake.

By the time the final bell rang, I was both mentally and physically drained. My muscles ached from gym class, but the exhaustion in my chest weighed heavier. I grabbed my bag and headed out of the building, scanning the parking lot for Mrs. Blake's car.

When I spotted her parked near the front, my heart leapt. I picked up my pace, weaving through clusters of students until I reached the passenger door and climbed in.

As soon as the door shut, I couldn't hold back any longer. "How's Lily?" I blurted, the words tumbling out before I even buckled my seatbelt.

Mrs. Blake turned to me, her expression softening in a way that made my heart clench. "She's okay, Emily," she said gently. "The doctors did surgery on her, but she's doing well now. They said it was her appendix. She'll need to stay in the hospital for a few days to recover, but she's going to be fine."

Relief hit me like a wave, and I let out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The tension that had been gripping my chest all day started to loosen, and for the first time, I felt like I could breathe again. "That's good," I said quietly, the words almost a whisper. "I was so worried."

"I know," Mrs. Blake said, her voice filled with warmth. "You did so much to help her last night. You stayed calm when it mattered most, and because of you, she got the help she needed. I'm proud of you, Emily."

Her words settled over me like a blanket, comforting and reassuring. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear them until now. "Thanks," I said, my throat tight with emotion.

"Can we visit her?" I asked after a moment, the thought of seeing Lily and knowing she was okay giving me a glimmer of hope.

"Not tonight," Mrs. Blake said, shaking her head gently. "She needs to rest, but we'll go see her tomorrow after school. How does that sound?"

"Okay," I said, leaning back against the seat as the car hummed to life and we pulled out of the lot. The sky outside was painted in shades of orange and pink as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the streets.

The drive home was quiet, but it wasn't the heavy silence I'd felt earlier. It was softer now, the weight in my chest easing bit by bit. The worry for Lily was still there, but knowing she was safe and on the mend made it bearable.