“Hey, kid.”
“Hey, Bill.” I sat on a stretcher in emergency care, swinging my legs back and forth. Mostly trying not to fixate on the all-too-familiar sounds and smells. Hurling on the floor would be bad. “What are you doing here?”
“Just getting a cut checked out, home-renovating accident.” The EMT from the night at the Drop Stop smiled. “The kitchen sink attacked me.”
“And I thought your job was dangerous.”
He just smiled some more. “How you doing?”
“Fine.”
“Why are you here?” he asked, leaning against the opposite wall. He looked to be about forty, fit, with a shaved head. Hot if you were into middle-aged people. Bet my mom would like him.
“Dislocated my thumb.” I showed him my bandaged hand.
“How the hell did you do that?” he asked, crossing his arms, getting comfortable.
“I punched a girl at school.”
A frown darkened his face. “Did she deserve it?”
“Oh, yeah. Big time. She’d been bullying me for years.”
He shook his head. “Picking on other people, putting them down to make yourself feel big, is bullshit behavior at any age, frankly.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Give me your left,” he said, holding out his hand.
He held up his palm like a stop sign. “Let’s see that punch. Hit me.”
I punched hard into his hand with my left. There was a loud slapping sound.
“Okay, there’s the problem,” he said. “Good news is that you’re rotating the fist and punching through the target. You’re a natural. Bad news is that thumb.”
Gently, he rolled my fingers over, then stretched my good thumb out along the bottom against my palm.
“Like that,” he said. “Thumb on the outside backing up your fingers, okay?”
“Okay.”
“You want to hit with those two bad boys right there,” he said, tapping my front two knuckles. “Anything else will just get you back here again with a dislocation or fracture. Got it?”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“I didn’t show you that.”
“Of course not.” I smiled. “Say, you single? Like girls?”
“I’m a little old for you.”
“I was thinking more of my mom.”
“Ha.” He laughed. “I’m seeing someone. Sorry, kid.”
Couldn’t blame me for trying. “Good to see you again, Bill.”
With a shake of his head, he took off. There was a job I couldn’t do, being an EMT. Imagine picking people up, trying to put them back together long enough to get them to a doctor. The things he must have seen. Why, even that night, at the Drop Stop . . . and there was a thought leading nowhere good. My stomach tumbled queasily in agreement.
I needed out of this place. The sights and smells, they were all too reminiscent of that night. Thankfully, Mom had finished talking to the doctor and was heading my way.
“Come on,” she said, marching straight past me toward the doors. She was not wearing her happy face. Guess she’d heard back from the school about the disciplinary action.
Principal Lee had lectured both me and Kara while we waited for our parents. Fortunately, Kara the douche had chosen to attack me within view of a security camera. Had to love an idiot for making things easy. The fact that she’d obviously started the spectacle and reached for me first had been a big help, bless her. Due to the whole punching thing, no one was labeling me a victim, but still.
Outside, the summer sun was shining bright, the birds were singing. Despite my mom’s downer of a mood, I was feeling fine. The doctor had given me painkillers.
Mom still wasn’t smiling. “I just got off the phone with your principal. You’re suspended for a week. Given recent traumatic events, she decided to let you off easy.”
“I’m not going back there.”
“What?” Mom halted, glaring at me across the roof of her sedan.
“I never fit in and I never will,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Especially after this. That place is survival of the richest—you have no idea what they’re like. Kara will be out to make my life a misery and I’m not up for it.”
“Honey—”
“I’m not going back,” I said, voice clear. No doubt, no hesitation. My boundaries were all too clear to me these days. “I’ll go to the local high school instead.”
Mom frowned. “No. You won’t.”
I felt like shit fighting with her. Usually, we made big decisions together. Being a single parent, having to drop out of college to have me, Mom hadn’t had it easy. She’d sacrificed. Grandma eventually came around and helped out, but it took time. Time during which Mom was utterly and completely alone. I didn’t like to make things difficult for her. This time, however, I couldn’t compromise. I couldn’t back down. More than enough monsters were already in my head, feasting on my sanity, feeding my insecurities. Kara and co were officially too much.
“Edie, this is your education we’re talking about,” she said imploringly. “Your future.”
“I know. And I can learn as well at the local school as I can at that place.” I leaned against the car, resting my hands on top. “Better probably. Grandma will get over it.”
“I’ll talk to the principal about keeping this girl away from you. I’ll make sure from now on you’re protected.”
“That’s a nice idea, but it’s not going to work, Mom.”
“I’ll damn well make it work.”
I gave her a most dubious look.
“Honey, she will not bother you again. I promise. But also, think about it this way. There’s going to be people you don’t get along with wherever you go. It’s an unfortunate part of life, having to share the planet with a billion or so others,” she said. “People just can be jerks. I know you’ve been through a lot, more than I can possibly understand. But running away every time there’s conflict isn’t the answer. It sets a very concerning precedent for you.”
“I get what you’re saying,” I said. “I do. But there are limits, Mom, and daily persecution kind of goes beyond mine.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Don’t you think this is just going to add to how unsettled everything has been for you lately?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Look, just . . . let’s talk to the principal first. See if something can’t be done.” Mom’s brows almost met in the middle. “You’re in your senior year, Edie. Changing schools now would be a huge disruption.”
“No, Mom,” I said, tone sharper than I’d intended. “Nearly getting killed was a huge disruption. Changing schools would be a relief.”
For a long moment, she just looked at me. Then she slipped on her sunglasses, hiding all of the frustration and worry in her eyes. “Let’s talk about it at home.”
I shrugged, feeling bad that I would have to overrule her. As weird as it sounds, part of me was glad I felt bad about it.
To my ears, Georgia, Kara, and the principal sounded like they lived in an echo chamber. They could talk, but none of it really mattered. I knew what mattered now. What was life and death. Everything else was just bullshit everyday details.
But my mom still mattered. I clung to that.