MAN OK, I wasn't expecting so much positive feedback from this and it looks like a lot of people want me continue, which is great. I have a load of exams at the moment, but whenever I have a chunk of free time I'll try to update. I'm really glad people are enjoying this, I promise not to let it gather dust for too long! Thanks!
Ralph had seen it happen in the movies; a student, caught in an accident or run down by an illness, misses the first few weeks of school and is sent condolences by their new class, people they've never met but who apparently miss them. Usually the person who seems least likely to be inconvenienced is sent to the hospital, to give them cards and flowers and tell them how everyone hopes they'll come to school soon. Ralph was said person.
He fumbled with the doorhandle, shifting the flowers from one hand to the other and wiping his free hand on his shirt before he finally opened the door. He could have knocked, but the receptionist said she might be asleep. He figured it would be better to not wake her up, hoping for the ideal situation in which he wouldn't have to actually speak to her.
But she was awake - just his luck. She was small, and pale, no doubt from spending so much time inside. She was lying in the bed, her back propped up by a multitude of pillows. Her legs were raised slightly, wrapped firmly in white casts.
She was playing a game when he came in, and continued after giving him a brief acknowledging glance. Ralph stood by the door, unsure whether to speak or to just put the flowers on the bedside table, put the card in her lap, and hightail it out of the room and out of the building. Hospitals gave him the creeps.
"You from school?"
He was pulled back from his internal debate by the other's high-but-not-exactly-unpleasant voice. She hadn't looked away from her handheld and her fingers were still mashing the buttons, but her attention seemed to be on him, if only slightly. "Yeah." He took it as an invitation to further enter the room, and walked slowly up to the bed to put the flowers on the table. "The class bought these for you. And this." He held the card out towards her but she made him wait, finishing whatever it was she was doing before closing the device and finally looking at him properly. She stared at his face blankly before looking at the envelope in front of her. "Why are your hands so freakishly big?"
Ralph's grip on the card tightened noticeably and he saw her smile, but it seemed more like a grimace. "I dunno." He pushed the card closer until she relented and took it, but she didn't open it. They hovered in silence for a few long moments.
"What're you playing?"
"Sugar Rush."
"That racing game? The one for little kids?"
She scoffed. "It's no more for little kids than any other racing game. Just because it has a sweets theme doesn't mean it's for children. Everybody likes sweets."
"Not everyone."
She didn't respond to this, and they were back to silence. It was too hot; it reminded him of the old folks' home his nan had stayed at before she died, stuffy and overheated to stop anyone from getting hypothermia.
"What's your name?"
Right. Ralph hadn't introduced himself. That was probably rude. "Ralph. Yours?"
She stared at him again, and he saw the dark circles under her eyes. He guessed you would't get much sleep in a place like this. "It's Vanellope. Don't shorten it to anything, it all sounds rubbish. And I suppose the teacher wrote it, then. The card. If the class had signed it, you'd know my name." She pushed the envelope away, and Ralph couldn't deny it. Of course the class didn't really care, they'd never even met her. It would've been better if they'd just let her be and not faked some kind of empathy, he'd thought, but he had known the teacher would've been disgusted if he'd said it out loud.
"So when're you coming back to school?"
"Dunno yet."
"How long do they think your legs will take to get better?"
"They're not going to get better."
"Oh."
He felt like he was being glared at, but Vanellope's face was impossibly difficult to read. "Are those hands a birth defect or what?"
Ralph clenched his teeth but tried to calm himself. "I get that you're frustrated but lashing out-"
"Frustrated? Haha, wow. That doesn't even begin to cover it. I'd be 'frustrated' about stubbing my toe but at least I'd still be able to walk." She smiled bitterly at him, like he was a child who didn't understand anything despite the fact that they were the same age. She shifted her body and lifted her legs, turning to hang them over the side. One hit against the cold metal bars of the bed, and her smile turned into a grin. "See? I didn't even feel that." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ralph could see how small she really was. "Get me my wheels." He looked round the room and saw a wheelchair folded into a corner. He placed it next to the bed and folded it out, took a step back and looked at her. He didn't know what to say.
Vanellope gripped the seat of the chair and paused. Her expression looked torn. Ralph wondered if she could get into it by herself.
"You can go now, tell the class I said thanks."
So he left, and the door hit his foot as it shut. At least he could feel it, he supposed.
The next day he told his teacher Vanellope had appreciated the gifts, but he'd simply waved his hand and said, "Yes, yes, very good, now sit down, Ralph." The class quickly forgot about the empty chair in the room.
It took another month for her to finally show up.