I waited for a stately parade of cars trapped behind a slow moving school bus to pass, then I ran across the street. I punched 911 into my phone as I approached her. Jeanette lay on the ground beside her house, the hose in her hand spurting crazily in the air like a fountain gone mad. “My friend needs an ambulance,” I told the 911 operator. I threw the hose aside and felt Jeanette’s neck for a pulse. “She’s breathing, but not conscious,” I said and gave directions to our location. Jeanette was soaked from . . .
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