The hobbit waggled a finger in my face. “Wrong! Everyone knows Hillary is in charge.”
I locked my eyes on Gemma. “Is this guy for real? He’s making my headache worse.”
They all stopped talking and stared at me. I zipped my trap shut.
Bernie whispered behind her hand, and everyone nodded. Obviously, a plan had been agreed to. Them not filling me in on it was a terrible sign.
Jenny dashed across the street.
Gemma approached slowly, showing her hands. “How ya feeling now, Teeg?”
“I want to go home. Go to bed.” I rubbed my face with both hands. “I mean, I want to go to bed.”
“I know. Jenny went to fetch Bernie’s car so we can take care of you.”
“Car? Our dorm is right there.” I pointed across the street. “Can’t you guys just walk me home? And isn’t Jenny drunk?”
“She’s not, actually. Stopped drinking hours ago to drive Bernie home. A first, I know.” Gemma cracked a feeble smile, lowering my arm. “Don’t wear yourself out.” She avoided my eyes.
“You’re taking me to the hospital, aren’t you?”
She shrugged, suddenly interested in the dark buildings across the street. Most students had already skedaddled after finishing final exams, and the town was eerily quiet.
“I don’t need to go,” I whispered.
Gem looked into my eyes. “The fact that you aren’t pitching more of a fit says otherwise.” She scrunched her face, trying to seem supportive or possibly preparing for an outburst.
I groaned. “I just finished finals and have been drinking for hours. I’m exhausted. I don’t want to go.”
She studied me with determined eyes.
“If you take me to the hospital, please do me one favor. Don’t call my mom. How can I explain I was drunk and walked in front of a hobbit?”
She nodded slightly, staring into the inky night.
“Look at me. Don’t call my mom. She’s the last person I want to see tonight.”
“I promise I won’t call your mom.” She uttered each word with excruciating slowness.
Chapter Two
The woman at the front desk of Alfrid’s emergency facility literally sighed when the five of us trooped inside the sliding glass door. The waiting room was off to the left, with about a dozen metal folding chairs, mostly occupied. In the corner sat a tiny TV tuned into MTV, which was playing Sade’s “No Ordinary Love.” Oddly, the volume was muted.
“Which one is the patient?” The front desk woman’s look of concern lacked warmth.
Gemma had an arm around me as if I would crash to the floor at any moment. Cuddy supported his arm. Clearly, observation wasn’t the woman’s strong suit. Quite possibly, she didn’t give a rat’s ass.
I raised an index finger. The hobbit nodded his head. Under the harsh florescent light in the sterile waiting room, I finally saw his elbow. It wasn’t bent completely the wrong way, but it looked freakishly wrong. Since he still wore his jacket, I couldn’t see if it was swollen, but I was willing to bet it was and already showing signs of a doozy of a bruise.
During the entire car ride, I thought he was being a considerate hobbit, tagging along to make sure I was okay. As it turned out, he was in dire need of a doctor.
“Right. Which one would like to go first?” the woman asked.
“Isn’t there a nurse to make that assessment?” I asked.
Jenny’s brow furrowed. She rolled back on her heels, crossed her arms, and cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, and isn’t there more than one room?”
The woman slowly filled her lungs before expelling a whoosh in irritation. “Maybe all of you who don’t need medical attention can take a seat over there in the waiting area.” She sneered. “This isn’t Grand Central Station.”
“I’m not entirely convinced it’s a medical facility, either,” I whispered in Gemma’s ear and followed up by saying, “Don’t leave my side.”
The woman’s stare would have melted the Wicked Witch of the East. Or West. Which one melted? Oh god, was I brain damaged if I couldn’t remember? If I was, did I want to know?
“Why don’t you go first? Your elbow looks bad.” I gently shoved Cuddy forward. My head hurt, and I had several scrapes and bruises, but I wasn’t overly keen to be seen by anyone. Would it be possible to slip out?
“You sure?” He made zero indication he was experiencing any pain. Could hobbits be chivalrous? Did thinking inane questions mean I had one foot in the I’m a vegetable category?
“What’s your name?” the woman asked, cutting off the debate about who should go first. Again, I wondered about their selection method. I was only a college kid studying nursing, but I hadn’t missed an episode of General Hospital in five years.
“Cuddy.”
“Cuddy what?”
“That’s my last name.”
“What’s your first name?” she barked.
Cuddy jumped back, cradling his bad limb close to his body. Was the pain kicking in? “Meriadoc.” He proceeded to spell it.
“Fill this out.” She handed him a clipboard with a pen dangling on a string scotch taped to the top. “And you are?” Her beady eyes bored into me.
“Tegan Raye.”
“Am I right to assume Raye is your last name?” Her pit bull expression jangled my nerves.
“Ah—”
“Tegan Raye Ferber,” Gemma jumped in.
“College kids who don’t know the difference between their first, middle, and last names.” She rolled her eyes. “We have regulations to follow.” She tapped the top of her computer monitor. “Regulations,” she repeated.
Gemma inched forward. “You’ll have to excuse her. She got knocked in the head earlier tonight.”
“And she can’t remember her name?” The woman pressed a button, and almost immediately, a nurse in green scrubs popped into the waiting room. Busy my ass. They just didn’t want to work. She and the front desk witch conferred behind their hands, glancing furtively at me.
Before I could process what was happening, the witch thrust a clipboard and intake form into Gemma’s hands, and the nurse guided me into the recesses of the facility, past several enclosed areas, housing other unfortunate patients who had stumbled into this so-called medical facility. Beeping sounds followed us as we journeyed past the rooms. Three women in scrubs and one old dude in a white coat stood at a desk, as if gossiping. An older patient in a hospital gown slowly walked down a poorly lit hallway along a row of closed rooms, one hand guiding a pole with an IV bag, the other keeping the back of his gown closed.
We reached an open area, sectioned off by drapes, further proof the place wasn’t properly equipped to handle too many emergencies. It made me think of Hooverville’s I had studied in history class.
My nurse shoved a thin curtain on metal rings to the side and motioned for me to take a seat on the hospital bed. The protective tissue paper crinkled and bunched under my thigh.
“Put this on.” The nurse thrust a hospital gown onto my lap, drew the curtain to give me a semblance of privacy, and stepped out.
“I don’t want to wear this.” I held it between my thumb and forefinger far away from my body.
Gemma shrugged. “Not sure you have a choice.” She stood to help me out of my clothes and into the threadbare gown with random geometric shapes that made my eyes cross. Was the gown part of the brain test?
Afterward, Gem sat on the stool to the side, busily filling out my paperwork. Occasionally, she asked me to supply information, like my parents’ phone number. Obviously, the front desk witch thought me too brain damaged to spell my own name and provide other personal details.
The nurse returned and immediately shined a penlight into my eyes, motioning with her fingers to follow the light. Speaking wasn’t her forte, I guessed. She’d probably missed the day when bedside manner was discussed.
“Teeg, where’s your health insurance card?” Gemma tapped the pen against the
clipboard.
I blinked, seeing spots after the light test. “Don’t know. Wallet maybe.”
“We’ll need that information.” The nurse stopped quicker than a prostitute suspecting she was about to be stiffed and not in a good way.
“Right.” Gemma rifled through my wallet. “Aha!” She held my MetLife card in the air.
The nurse smiled. “Good thing your sister’s here.” She continued her ministrations, which didn’t make much sense to me. Finally, she said, “The doctor will be with you shortly.” She plucked the clipboard from Gemma’s hands.
When the squeak of her white shoes diminished, I raised an eyebrow. “Sister?”
Gem hitched a shoulder.
“We look nothing alike.”
She put a finger to her lips. “I wasn’t going to correct her. They won’t let me stay if they find out we aren’t related.”
Gemma, the ever pragmatic, had buried the blatant disregard for same-sex couples. At least, that was how I took it.
I settled as best I could on the table. “I’m cold.”
Gemma searched a faux-wood cabinet on wheels and pulled out a thin light brown blanket. “It’s not much, but it might make a difference.” She arranged it over my lap.
“No wonder people hate hospitals if this is how the staff treats patients.” I groaned.
“Rethinking your major?” She smiled.
“No! I’ll be different.”
“That’s the spirit. Change things from the inside.”
A male’s voice boomed from the curtained “room” to my left.
“How can people get any rest?” I asked. “I’m so tired.”
Gemma eyed the buttons on the side of the bed, figuring out how to adjust it to an almost flat position. “Lay down and get some rest.”
Gemma assisted as I scooted back, with my head on a pillow, pulling the blanket over me.
Moments later, a commotion to my right increased. A frantic woman, who didn’t sound older than twenty, threw open the curtain, grasping her nose with both hands. “Help me! Help me!”
Gemma rushed to her aid. “What’s wrong?”
“A gummy bear bit my nose off.” She pulled her hands away to reveal a perky and completely intact nose.
The nurse who attended to me earlier corralled the so-called gummy bear victim, forcing her out of my room, securing the curtain once again. Why bother?
Gem stared at the curtain with her lips clamped shut.
“Bad acid trip?” I whispered.
“That’d be my guess.”
I shifted on the table, the paper underneath my legs wrinkling. “Seems like they have their hands full tonight. Who knows how long until the doctor arrives. This is the worst night ever!”
***
“Excuse me. I’m looking for my daughter.”
My mother’s voice stung my ears. Not thinking, I clawed Gemma’s hand as she stood by my head, nearly squeezing the life out of it. Gemma tried shaking me off, but my cobra-like grip wouldn’t be dismissed so easily.
As we battled, Mom opened the curtain, reminding me of a painting I saw years ago of a determined Moses parting the Red Sea.
Mother paused briefly, her gaze landing on my hand in Gemma’s. Then she soaked in how I had instinctively moved my head against Gem’s thigh, close to the crotch region, seeking her warmth and protection.
Gem patted the top of my head tenderly. “No need to be scared. Your mom’s here now.”
I groaned, praying I sounded like I was in pain, not mad as hell.
“Tegan! My baby.” She dashed to me as if I were on fire and the only way to smother the inferno was with a mother’s embrace. She yanked me into a soul-crushing hug, succeeding in prying me away from Gemma. If I didn’t have brain damage from the hobbit, I surely had it now. “What happened?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked as if there were nothing wrong.
“Someone named Bernice called me.” She set her handbag down on the plastic chair with a thud.
Her pinched face suggested she remembered meeting Bernie, but her voice attempted to convey ignorance.
Damn Bernie and her I know better meddlesome ways!
“What happened?” Mom repeated.
“I got creamed by a hobbit.” I pulled the blanket up to my chin.
Mom staggered back a step and motioned to Gemma. “Is her brain scrambled?”
I rolled my eyes. “If you want to have a private conversation, I suggest taking it outside. There’s zero privacy here.”
Gemma sighed and tried to silence me with a frown. She turned to my mom. “Tegan was in a minor accident. She whacked her head and blacked out for a few moments.”
“What kind of accident?”
“A hobbit on a bike creamed me,” I repeated, hoping she’d finally get the picture.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Hobbits don’t ride bikes.” That didn’t stop her from scouting for said hobbit, whom I assumed was in his own curtained space.
And I was the brain-injured person?
Now Gemma queried my eyes to suss out whether I thought my mom was crazy. Crazier than usual.
I tossed a hand in the air, indicating this was what I had to put up with all the time.
Gemma opted to remain quiet.
Fortunately, Mom had switched gears. “What has the doctor said?”
“I haven’t seen one.”
She glanced at her watch. “When did you get here? I received the call hours ago.”
“What time is it?”
“After four in the morning.”
“What?” I sat up, shaking my head to steady my vision.
“This is what happens when you leave civilization. I warned you this would happen in Alfrid. Why didn’t you choose CU or CSU?”
“You warned me I’d get hit by a bicycle-riding hobbit?”
The nursed popped her head between the curtains. “You didn’t fill out the space about your last period. When was it?”
“I hit my head, which I’m pretty sure didn’t knock me up.”
“Two weeks ago,” Gemma responded.
The nurse crinkled her brow, as if trying to figure out how Gem knew that personal information, but she shook it off, marked something on my intake form, and took her leave again.
“Unbelievable,” I said. “Why do medical people always zero in on periods and the chance of being pregnant? Even for those who use the no-sperm method.”
Gemma’s eyes boggled.
Mom started to speak but wasn’t able to get a word out.
“Save me!” Gummy Bear Girl screeched as she ran into the room again, ducking behind Gemma, holding onto Gem’s arms. “The bears. The gummy bears are trying to kill me!”
“This is a madhouse!” Mother sputtered, tugging on my arm.
“Don’t manhandle me. Help Gem.”
“I’m taking you home. Dr. Willet can treat you.”
“He’s a pediatrician!”
Her shrug implied “So what?”
Two nurses appeared.
The girl frantically weaved around Gemma, never letting go. “I won’t go. Don’t let them take me. They work for the green bears. They’re in charge. Where’s Dr. Feelgood? I thought I saw him earlier.” She clung to Gemma for dear life. “Only he can help me.”
Another nurse appeared. Where in the hell was the doctor?
Each of them approached from a different side, including one going behind my bed. Gummy Bear Girl backed into a counter, with Gemma still as her protective shield. My redhead wasn’t the type to let a poor girl down. She put her arms out protectively, while simultaneously coaxing the girl to let the professionals help her. Gem’s soft voice eased the tension from the room. Even Mom released my arm.
“There, there,” said the shortest nurse, taking her cue from Gemma’s tone. “We aren’t going to hurt you.” The nurse with a needle in her hand tucked it behind her back.
Gummy poked her
head over Gemma’s shoulders, her eyes bugged out and bloodshot.
“There you go. That’s right. Everything is going to be okay. Come with me.” The kind nurse sounded genuine, unlike the nurse with the needle. The one who had led me to my doom earlier.
“Come with me? We need to find the doctor.” The girl pleaded with Gemma.
Gemma glanced at me, and I nodded. “Okay.” Gem laced an arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
They shuffled out.
Mom flipped around. “I’m getting you out of here. Now!”
“What? It’s over. And I can’t leave without Gemma.”
Mom huffed. “She seems like the type who would land on her feet, no matter what. My concern is you.”
“My concern is Gem.” I ducked under the covers once again. “I’ve waited this long. I’m not going until the doctor gets here.”
“There you are!” Cuddy popped his head through the curtains. His left arm was in a plaster cast and supported by a blue sling.
“Who’s this?” Mom perked up.
Unbelievable! Any sight of a boy and she got her hopes up of marrying me off. If the gummy bear person had been a boy, would she have pitched a fit?
“The hobbit who hit me,” I growled at my mom, not Cuddy.
“Tegan. Don’t be rude.” Mom’s face mirrored the admonishment in her tone.
“I’m rude? You’ve—”
“It’s okay. I did run her over.” He mimicked with his good arm that he had flattened me like a pancake earlier in the night. “I didn’t mean to, of course. That’s the thing with accidents. They’re accidents.” He smiled at me. “You stepped into the street without looking, though.”
“Pedestrians always have the right of way.” I was determined to hold my ground.
“And yet, our parents and teachers always told us to look both ways.” He shook a teacher-like finger, clearly enjoying the scene. Or was he on pain meds? Had he been seen by Dr. Feelgood? Wasn’t that the name the truck dude had shouted? And Gummy Bear Girl? How did everyone in town know this doctor?
“Does it hurt much?” I waved to his arm.
“A little.” He tried to hitch his good shoulder, stopping midway.
“I’m sorry you got hurt.”
Girl Love Happens Boxed Set: Books 0-2 Page 29