"We're back!"
Claire Dearing carried her daughter through the front door, shaking snow from her shoulders. Owen stood up and jogged over to them, smiling brightly.
"How did it go?"
"It went well. I mean, the pharmacist was a little surprised to see that I was actually a dinosaur, but he didn't judge."
Yes, Claire was now a hybrid dinosaur, commonly known as "Stegoceratops". She had arranged for herself and her daughter (who was only half dinosaur) to get secret flu shots, because the man who worked at the pharmacy was an old friend of the family. He was now one of the few people who knew about Claire's condition, but it was worth telling him if it meant that they'd be safe during flu season.
Owen picked up his daughter and poked her nose playfully.
"How are you, Lily?"
"Ouchie in arm!" she whined.
Owen laughed and handed her back to Claire.
"Did she cry?"
"Nope. She punched the doctor, though. She didn't seem too happy that he'd poked a needle in her arm."
Sure enough, there was a pink Band-Aid stuck to her skin. She wiggled her shoulder uncomfortably and snorted with aggravation.
"Ache. Ache!"
Claire laughed.
"Yes, Lily. Just keep moving it around. It will get better before you know it."
The child huffed, then waddled across the room angrily.
"No like pharm'cy. Ow."
Owen smiled and turned to Claire.
"Do you think the vaccination will work on you two?"
Claire nodded.
"Ellie says so, and she knows everything about my biology. I'm surprised they were able to get the needle into me, though. I have thick scales. I guess if they can do it to cows, they can do it to dinosaurs. It's only a little poke, after all."
Owen winced.
"Ick. Don't talk about needles. They make me nervous."
Claire chuckled.
"Wimp. Didn't they vaccinate you in the Navy?"
Owen shook his head.
"I managed to get out of it by saying that I was allergic to eggs. I've actually never had a shot in my life."
Claire's jaw dropped. Owen didn't like the way she was staring at him.
"You mean you're not inoculated?" she asked in disbelief.
Owen shrugged.
"Yeah, but it doesn't matter. As long as you and Lily are safe-"
"Owen, you can't just let yourself walk around without a proper vaccination! If you catch the flu virus, you'll put others at risk!"
"Look, it's no big deal," Owen muttered, "I have a strong immune system, and I'm not entirely convinced that the flu shot actually works."
Claire scowled.
"Owen, if you had gone to school, you'd know that vaccinations always work. The only reason they might appear to fail is because you could already be infected, or else you might catch a more advanced form of the virus that showed up after they created the most recent vaccination. That's why you need to keep up with your shots: the flu virus is constantly evolving to counteract the medication that-"
Owen put his finger over her beak.
"Claire, you know I love you, but sometimes you sound like a Public Service Announcement."
She glared at him, swishing her tail back and forth with agitation.
"You're going to get your flu shot, Owen."
He shook his head.
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
He crossed his arms.
"I'd like to see you make me."
Fifteen minutes later, Claire dragged him into the pharmacy by his shirt collar. He kicked and flailed around, but she was adamant. She pulled him over to a small folding chair and sat him down forcefully.
"Wait here," she growled.
Owen crossed his arms grumpily.
"This is stupid."
Claire bopped him on the head with her horn.
"Just deal with it, okay?"
She turned to the counter and rang the little bell.
"Doctor Levine? I have another one."
A middle-aged man wandered out of the back room with a big smile on his face.
"Back for more, eh?"
Claire nodded.
"I thought we'd squeeze in one last visit before we shut the portal down for the night."
Levine nodded.
"Right. So where's the-"
He noticed Owen frowning at him from the waiting chair.
"Oh. He's not a child."
"Not chronologically," Claire said, "He needs a flu shot. He hasn't had one before."
Levine chuckled.
"Well, it's a good thing you convinced him to come here. I presume he's old enough to fill out his own forms?"
Claire shook her head.
"Just give them to me. He's terrible with paperwork."
Levine handed her a paper and a pen, then left to gather his supplies. Claire started writing with her beak, paused, and spat out the pen.
"Owen, do you have any allergies?"
"Eggs."
"Nice try. Tell the truth."
"Strawberries."
Claire wrote it down.
"That shouldn't be a problem. You're not on any medication, right?"
"I'm on everything. It's probably not a good idea to go through with this."
". . . No medication," Claire stated, marking the form, "Alright, I think we're done. Do you want to sign here?"
"No."
"Let me rephrase that. Sign here."
Owen sighed and scribbled his name on the page. Claire hummed when she saw how messy his signature was.
"I need to practice writing my new last name," Owen muttered.
Claire nodded and sat down on the floor in front of him. She flittered her plates to pass the time, then gave him a gentle nudge.
"This is exciting, isn't it?"
Owen made a small squeaking sound. Claire narrowed her eyes.
"Are you afraid?"
"No! I just don't want someone stabbing me to death with a tube full of chemicals, that's all!"
Claire rolled her eyes.
"Don't be a chicken. You'll thank me for this later. Remember when we both got sick and started throwing up all over each other? That's what we're trying to avoid this year."
Owen fiddled with the bottom of his shirt.
"Are you sure it's safe?"
She placed her front foot on his knee.
"Positive," she assured him with a warm confidence.
Owen craned his neck to see over the counter.
"Is the doctor-man coming back soon?"
Claire nodded.
"Yes, be a patient patient."
Owen gulped.
"Does . . . Does it hurt when he puts the needle in your arm?"
"A little."
"How much?"
"Like a bee sting."
"I don't know how much that is."
Claire pinched his arm with her beak.
"Like that."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because it doesn't hurt as much as you think it will."
"How do you know?"
Claire mooed in aggravation.
"Owen, just trust me. I wouldn't make you do this if it wasn't worth a little sting. You have to calm down. The more you tense up your muscles, the more it will hurt."
When the doctor marched out of the back room with his supplies, Owen felt his heart drop.
"Have you filled out the form?"
"Yes, we have," Claire chirped pleasantly, "He's all yours."
Owen stared at her with pleading eyes, but she stood him up by force and nudged him towards the doctor, who seemed unimpressed by his cowardice.
"Alright. Follow me to the inoculation room."
Owen shuffled behind him, not wanting to enter what might very well be a chamber of death. The room was actually quite small, and the walls were lined with little orange bottles. The doctor closed the door behind him (bad sign), and pointed to a chair.
"You can sit down there."
Owen gulped and did as he was told. He shifted around uncomfortably, eyes darting every which way.
"Alright, I'm gonna need you to relax," the doctor said calmly.
Owen gave a shrill hum in reply.
"Roll up your sleeve, please."
Owen did exactly as he was told, but wondered whether it would be best to have the other arm done in case the shot made it fall off or something. Which limb did he need more? Probably the one with his dominant hand . . .
Without warning, something cold and wet touched his upper arm. He gasped in fear and nearly fell over.
"Relax. I'm just cleaning the area with rubbing alcohol."
Owen sat up straight and took a few shaky breaths. He tried to focus on the doorknob to distract himself, but his eyes inadvertently gravitated towards his arm. He saw the doctor pulling the needle out of a bottle, and his heart leapt into his throat. Unable to contain his fear any longer, he sprung to his feet and sprinted out the door.
"CLAAAAAAAAAIRE!"
She stood up in alarm as he ran over to her.
"What the-"
He hid behind her frill, shivering with terror.
"I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid!"
Claire sighed loudly.
"Owen, it's just a needle. Lord knows, you've been through worse."
The doctor peeked out of the inoculation room with frustration.
"Is he coming back?"
Owen looked at Claire with dread. She sighed.
"We have to do this, Owen. I'll sit with you, if it helps."
Owen shook his head rapidly, but she pushed him across the floor until he was seated in the little chair again. She sat down in front of him and placed her front foot on his knee.
"Just focus on me, okay?"
Owen whimpered. The doctor sanitized his arm again.
"I'm here, Owen. Nothing bad is going to happen to you."
"How do you know?" he choked.
"Because it's just a flu shot, you dummy."
Owen glanced to the side nervously. Claire grabbed his chin and turned his head away from the doctor.
"Hey. Eyes on me. Don't think about it."
Owen stared at her. She stroked his shoulder, and soon, he was at least half as tense as before. The doctor touched his arm, then stuck the needle in smoothly. It created a small sting at first, but as the fluid entered his system, Owen felt a kind of aching under his skin. Then, the doctor removed the needle and pressed a cotton ball against the perforation. Owen blinked in surprise. The shot was quicker than he expected.
"We only have Power Rangers left. Is that okay?" the doctor asked, holding up a Band-Aid.
Owen nodded.
"Sure."
The doctor covered the tiny prick on Owen's arm, then wrote something on a sheet of paper.
"Alright, you have to stay here for ten minutes to make sure you don't have a reaction. After that, you're free to go."
He noticed that Owen was eyeing a bowl of lollipops. He quirked a brow.
"Do you want one?"
Owen blinked innocently.
"What? What do you- Oh, the lollipops. Yeah, I'll have one . . . if you're offering."
The ten minutes of waiting went by without any trouble whatsoever. Owen's arm ached slightly, but it wasn't a serious pain like he'd been expecting. Once Claire had thanked the doctor, they made their way out of the pharmacy, taking care to keep to the shadows in case there was anyone around who might question the presence of a hybrid dinosaur. Owen tossed his lollipop stick into a garbage can and sighed.
"That wasn't so bad."
"I told you it wouldn't be."
"I know. I guess I should have trusted you."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
Owen put his hands in his pockets.
"Do they always have lollipops?"
Claire shrugged.
"I guess so."
Owen considered this.
"Can we do this again next year?"
"That's the plan . . ."
"Good."
"Good."
And with that, they went home.