About five minutes later, I could already hear the sirens telling us that the ambulance was approaching. I was holding Elli’s head in my lap, keeping ice on her forehead. She had been moaning ever since the beginning of class, and hadn’t opened her eyes since we started playing.
I had been trying to rouse her, to no avail; she was out cold. She looked like a ghost, she was so pale. I would have thought she was dead long ago if not for her quick, shallow breaths.
Paramedics rushed into the band room and hurried straight toward us. Without saying a word, they scooped up Elli, and put her carefully on a stretcher.
I got up and saw a one of the men talking urgently to Mr. Rivira, then he turned and followed the stretcher out of the room. No one had said a word since Elli had collapsed, soI broke the silence.
“Will she be alright?” I asked Mr. Rivira. He looked down at me and sighed.
“There’s no way to tell at this point in time,” he said. “But I hope so.”