He shook his head as he pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office. “You should let him in, Mara.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” I opened the door to the office and Daniel followed behind me. I signed in on the clipboard and waited until they called my name. It was better than the hospital, but the same smell—that medical smell—made my breath quicken and my throat close. When the nurse took my blood pressure, my pulse thudded against the cuff as it constricted my arm. I gasped for breath and the nurse looked at me like I was crazy. Little did she know.
She led me into a room and pointed to the vinyl bench covered in doctor’s office paper. I sat down, but the rustle and crunch of it annoyed me. The doctor walked in to see me a few minutes later.
“Mara?” she asked, reading her clipboard. Then she met my eyes and extended her hand. “I’m Dr. Everett. How’s that arm?”
“Feels fine,” I said, holding it out for her.
“Have you been changing your dressings every two days?”
Nope. “Mmm-hmm.”
“How’s the pain?”
“I actually haven’t noticed it much,” I said. Her eyebrows lifted. “I’ve been really busy with exams and school stuff,” I said, by way of explanation.
“Distraction can be good medicine. Okay, Mara, let’s have a look.” She unwrapped the gauze from my elbow first, and worked her way down my forearm. Her forehead creased and she pursed her lips as the bandage unraveled further and further, revealing my pale, intact skin. She glanced over at her clipboard. “When did this happen?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Hmm. The ER doctor must have made a mistake. Probably an intern,” she said to herself.
“What?” I asked, growing nervous.
“Sometimes first-degree burns are mistaken for second-degree, especially on the arms and feet,” she said, turning over my arm and inspecting it. “But even so, the redness usually lasts for quite some time. Any pain when I do this?” she asked as she extended my fingers.
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mara,” she said, staring at my arm. “It’s completely healed.”
40
nOT HAVING AN ITCHY, SWEAT-COLLECTING bandage under my sleeve was the only bright spot in the next two days. Without Noah, and especially without Jamie, I had even less patience for school, and it showed. I snapped at my History teacher, who I loved, and came very close to punching Anna in the face when she walked past me and banged her bag into my shoulder. She’d gotten my only friend expelled. It would be the least I could do.
I resisted. Barely. But my dire mood followed me home. I just wanted to be alone.
When I walked in the house, I whipped out my sketchbook and went to the family room to draw. Working on the floor was always better for sketching, and my carpeted bedroom was not conducive.
About an hour after I’d started, Daniel peeked his head around the archway. “Hey.”
I looked up from the floor and smiled without feeling.
“Have you thought about going to Sophie’s party tomorrow night?”
I went back to smudging. Self-portraits are tough without a mirror. “Isn’t there some kind of theme?”
“No,” Daniel said.
“Oh.”
“Does that mean you’ll come?”
“No,” I said. “Just wondering.”
“You know Mom and Dad are going out tonight, right?” Daniel asked.
“Yup.”
“And Joseph is coming with me to help get things ready for tomorrow.”
“Yup,” I said, without looking up.
“So what are you going to do?” Daniel asked.
“I am going to sit here. And draw.”
Daniel arched an eyebrow. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
I sighed. “I just prefer my wallowing with a heaping dollop of self-pity, Daniel. I’ll be fine.”
“If it’s your grades, I can talk to Mom for you. Soften the blow.”
“What?” I hadn’t really been listening before, but Daniel sure as hell had my full attention now.
“You haven’t checked your grades?”
My heart started pounding. “They’re up?”
Daniel nodded. “I didn’t know you didn’t know.”
I shot up from the floor, leaving my sketchpad behind, and darted to my bedroom. I dove into my desk chair and swiveled around to look at the monitor. Anxiety skittered through my veins. I’d been confident a few days ago, but now …
As my eyes scanned the screen, I started to relax.
AP English: A
Bio: B+
History: B
Art: A
Spanish: F
Algebra II: B
I did a double take. Then scanned the screen again. F. Falls between D and G on the keyboard. F for first. F for failure. First failure.
I couldn’t catch my breath and dropped my head between my knees. I should have known. God, was I stupid. But in my defense, I had never, ever failed a class before, and those things just don’t seem possible until they actually happen. How was I going to explain this to my parents?
Shamed though I was, I hoped Daniel was still around. I sprinted to the kitchen, my face hot. He’d left me a note on the refrigerator.
Went to set things up.
Call me and I can come back and get you.