Disclaimer: If Disney doesn't air the Christmas Break episode of Phil of the Future this year, I call dibs on it, since they don't know what to do with it and I'd like to own it; which is to say, I don't presently own Phil of the Future, but I'd happily accept it as a present under my tree. Ho! Ho! Ho!
"No" Means No.
7
"Just sit, don't talk to anyone, and think about what you did!" barked Vice-Principal Hackett, his voice somewhat faltering from shock. This sort of thing just didn't happen at H. G. Wells, especially when he was in temporary command. Consciously, he forced himself to make the effort to release the boy's collar, along with his neck, as he plunked the quiet punk in a chair just inside the main office. At least the little jerk was keeping his mouth shut, for once. "I'll be right back, I just need to - Via - Get back inside Nurse Krinsky's office," Hackett attempted to sound gingerly, but he simply couldn't pull it off and instead came across as exasperated with the entire experience - not the signal that inspires empathy. Olivia, still numb, followed his instruction in slow motion. She wasn't talking to anyone, hadn't since Owen ...
Shaking and fidgety, a dangerous combination for a school nurse, Krinsky was running about her little health office, adrenaline pumping, reminding herself that she really needed to find a less upsetting position. Pausing long enough to consider her patient, her first concern was shock. Snatching a blanket off a cot, she slowed her actions down enough to place it about Olivia's shoulders with a smile of compassion. The Astronaut Blue throw covered what remained of the brunette's blouse, ripped and torn, buttons nowhere to be seen. There were some scratches and scrapes, perhaps a bruise forming, but it could have been so much worse. The Florence Nightingale of Bactine moved away to retrieve the antiseptic, but thought better of it and sat down on the examining table next to the young woman. Comfort was better medicine, she concluded, plus, it didn't sting.
"Owen?" whispered a stunned assault victim.
"Don't worry about him. That's the last thing you should be worried about. How are you? That's the big question, Sweetheart; 'how are you?' Oh, where's Debbie when I need her?" Krinsky pondered, her left hand rubbing little "O"s over Olivia's spine. Olivia straightened, and Krinsky slowed her massage, unsure if she caused her pain, or if the student was steeling herself for what lie ahead.
A.N. - Not an alternative universe story. Everyone's in character, just wait and see. Just a little something that came to me, inspired by the encouraging recent arrival of new writers and reviewers here, so while it may not come across as Christmassy, it is a present to all, as all tales here are. - CN
