'Archie'
Author's Note: Just a little one-shot idea I had. I may turn this into a sort of mini series of one shots about Patrice and Archie's friendship through the years, mostly before Evan. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy. It might get a little sad. Happy reading!
-Cade
Patrice Miller and Archie Walker were best friends. They were almost the same on every level. They were the same age. They were in the same kindergarten class. They even lived on the same street. They did everything together. They were like q and u, you rarely saw one without the other.
Archie adored Patrice. He would go along with everyone of her ideas for a game. He played house with her, being everything and anything she didn't want to be. He read the picture books she said were good and ignored the ones she said were bad. He didn't eat Cheetos because she didn't like them.
Archie also liked another little girl in their class, her name was Kendra. He didn't follow Kendra around and play with her like he did with Patrice because Kendra had mean friend, Lucy. Lucy told Kendra that she shouldn't play with Archie and Kendra listened to her.
Patrice liked Archie. She liked him a lot. He played the games she wanted to play. He did the things she wanted to do. He colored the pictures she told him to. He got her the toys she wanted when she asked for them. He was what every little girl wanted, a personal servant.
Patrice often noticed odd little things about her friend. She noticed that he didn't run quite as fast as the other boys in the class. He walked a little weird. He couldn't jump as well as everyone else. And he fell, a lot. More than any other little kid, even the boys playing kickball. Other than that, Archie was like all the other little kids.
One day, after Archie had fallen, he got up and said something different than he usually did. Normally, he said he was fine, or that he had meant to do that. But that day he said that his legs felt funny.
"What kind of funny?" Patrice asked.
"I don't know. They just feel funny," Archie told her. He told his mother the same thing when he told her the story at dinner.
"Do they hurt?" his mother asked. Archie nodded. It wasn't a hurt as if he had cut himself but more of an ache, a strange ache that he had never felt before.
His mother took him to the doctor the next day. Then he had to go to the hospital for tests. It wasn't very fun, but his mom took him to McDonalds after, so it made it okay. There was something about french fries and McNuggets that made everything better.
Patrice came to visit him after she got out of school that day.
"Where were you?" she demanded. "I had to play house all by myself, and Kendra and Lucy wouldn't let me use any of the baby dolls,"
"I had to go to the doctor's," Archie said.
"Did you hafta get a shot?" she wondered. Archie nodded. Patrice's eyes widened and her mouth formed an O. She hugged him tight, letting him know that everything was okay. He hugged her back.
The next day, the doctor called Archie's mother. They had to go back, there was something important to discuss.
Archie whined. He moaned and groaned. He kicked and fought. He didn't want to go back to the doctor's office. It wasn't any fun there. The lady at the reception desk didn't even let him play with the toys.
The nurse led Archie and his mom into a small office. There was brown desk with a rolly chair behind it. Two plastic chairs sat in front, facing the desk. The walls were an ugly, faded beige and the frosted glass window had no shade.
The doctor sitting at the desk was a balding man with big, thick rimmed glasses. Archie found him scary and mean-looking.
"Mrs. Walker, please, have a seat. You too, Archibald," the doctor said.
"I'm Archie," Archie said. "Not Archibald,"
"Oh, then have a seat Archie," the doctor corrected himself. Archie smiled and climbed into one of the plastic chairs. His mother sat in the other one.
"Mrs. Walker, I'm afraid that you son has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy,"
"What does that mean?" his mother asked.
"It's a type of muscular disordered where the body doesn't produce dystrophin, causing loss of movement in the skeletal muscles and eventually the cardiac muscle."
"Is it fatal?" she wondered. The doctor looked at Archie, then at his mother.
"Your son probably won't live to be thirty," the doctor admitted. Archie's mother started crying. Archie didn't see what the big deal was. Thirty was forever away, he was only five. Why was his mom crying?
"It's okay, Mommy," he said.
"Is, is there a cure?" his mother wondered. The doctor shook his head.
"There are things we can do to slow it down, but we can't cure it."
This only made Archie's mother cry harder. She couldn't believe that her sweet little boy was going to die before her. She couldn't believe that he was sick.
That night, Archie's mother sat him down.
"We've got to talk, Archie," she said.
"About what?" Archie wondered. "Spiderman?"
"No, about what the doctor said today,"
"I didn't like him. What he said made you cry,"
"I know, but he's a nice man, Archie, he's going to help you get better,"
"Am I sick?"
"Yes, baby,"
"Do I have to take medicine?"
"I don't know,"
"I don't feel sick,"
"I know you don't. It's not like when you throw up. This will last for a long time, it's not going to go away. The doctors will try to make you feel better, but they can't make it go away,"
"But I thought that medicine made everything go away. Won't the doctors give me medicine?"
"They'll give you medicine, but it won't go away,"
"Am I gonna die?" Archie's mother was a little taken back at this question.
"Everyone dies, Archie, you know that,"
"But will I die soon?"
"Not soon, but sooner than most people,"
Archie hugged his mom tightly. He was kind of confused and scared. He knew that he didn't feel sick. He felt the same as always, sure his legs were a little sore, but other than that he felt like he did everyday.
His mother let go of him and kissed the top of his head. He smiled at her before running off to go play. She stared after him, feeling more worried than she ever had.
"Where were you yesterday?" Patrice asked the next day at school. "I had to eat lunch all alone,"
"I had to go to the doctor's again," Archie said.
"Again?" Patrice wondered. Archie nodded.
"Are you sick or something?" Patrice asked. Archie nodded.
"With what? A cold? A fever? The flu?" Patrice rattled off the different illnesses she could think of. "The chicken pox? Head lice?"
"No, I don't know what it's called. Dushpen muscle dust, I think?" Archie guessed.
"That's kind of weird." Patrice said. "Will you be the dog now?" Archie sighed and lowered himself onto all fours. He barked like a dog and Patrice pat his head.
Archie may be sick, but he was still the best friend a little girl could ask for.
