Lucky Me
Chapter 081
We must have seemed like the Maniacal Brady Bunch as a herd of us rushed into the Salem Center Community Hospital.
Dad and Jean drove me and kept telling me not to worry too much.
I only chewed on my hair to the point I accidentally chewed some off.
Daisy was sick, so sick that Dr. Hank had to hand her over to specialists. Professor wasn't sure what was wrong with her when they brought her to the hospital, but it was quickly being revealed. Thankfully, all that legal jargon was null because the Bloome's had signed Professor as an acting guardian in their place.
When we got to the hospital Adam, Julie, Chris, and Dr. Hank were already there. So far the diagnosis was too horrible to believe.
She had several types of conditions like rashes, lacerations, bruises, and even a sinus infection.
Dr. Hank and Adam had come up with a theory about how she came to be this horribly sick.
Without her powers (thanks to the inhibitor) all the illnesses and other injuries Daisy healed weren't kept in the 'box' created by her mutant abilities. Since her powers had been turned off, all the things the 'box' contained spilled out and attacked her.
Dr. Hank kept repeating that they couldn't have known, that they thought everything they were doing was for her benefit. Professor agreed with him, saying he believed her recent and frequent illnesses were strange, but Daisy failed to mention any other type of problem or pain.
She was standing the possibility of dying to save her pride?
Bobby-Jerk and Adrian both were shipped off to the emergency room to be stitched up and checked out since Dr. Hank was in no mood to leave his apprentice. I couldn't blame him. They kept trying to tell Adrian and me that we had school in the morning. Our resolve was firm. We weren't going anywhere. Julie was suspended, again, and didn't have to worry about classes either. Bobby-Jerk called into the school to say he had been in an accident and wouldn't be able to come in for the next few days.
After hours, maybe around midnight, the crowd thinned. Dad said he was going to go back to the mansion to pick up a few things. A lot of the others went back to with him; somehow they were strangely satisfied going back because they knew they couldn't do anything for her. What could they honestly do for her at the mansion?
Jean, Dr. Hank, and Bobby-Jerk stayed behind. As did Chris, Adam, Adrian, Julie and I. We were stuffed in a waiting room. Adam was highly upset, blaming and kicking himself with every turn of his word.
"I-I should have known!"
I was having flashbacks to the whole Trish Tilby incident. It wasn't his fault, but would that thickheaded genius listen to me? Nope. He wanted to feel bad because he thought it was the only proper way to feel in this dilemma.
Chris was silently brooding again. Despite his annoying fascination with me, I think he harbored some emotions for Daisy. He sat next to the window, and idly flicked off chips of paint where it had cracked along the sill.
Adrian, after getting all patched up, sat in front of me twiddling his fingers. Bobby-Jerk sat next to him, head lulled back and his abused hand cradled in his lap.
Dr. Hank didn't help the nervousness to ebb because of his pacing. Jean addressed him about it, and the man (with image inducer) tried to stop, but got up two seconds later and resumed. Me? I was tired and sore. I lay down on a bench and because I was in a 'vulnerable state', I had Scott's jacket rolled up in a ball under my head, and under the jacket was Jean's lap. Jean was slowly combing her fingers through my hair.
Yes, I was acting like a frightened kid. A frightened little girl, and at that moment I was. I had the high risk of losing a teammate and friend. I wanted a comforting presence around; Jean took the role of mother and even did something I remember Heather doing when I was younger. Whenever I wasn't feeling well, Heather would run her fingers through my hair or rub my back until I feel asleep with my head on her lap.
When the nurse came to give a reluctant update, they said they were administering Daisy some antibiotics and other various help drugs. Dr. Hank, once the nurse left, said that most likely without the collar/bracelets on, Daisy's powers were trying to 'box' the ailments in again. But he added that he didn't want to fill us with too much hope because he seriously doubted her mutant powers would be able to correct and contain several months' worth of damage.
When Adam, Julie, and Chris' stomachs were finally louder than Bobby-Jerk's snore, everyone but Jean and I left to hunt for food. Yes, they woke up Bobby-Jerk out of the sheer niceness of their heart-probably going to make him pay or to stop snoring.
When they had gone, I curled into a tighter ball on the cushioned seat. Jean's attention to my hair increased, she even started to hum. The others stayed away. Why was this good? Because my eyes were starting to tear up.
"Kerry," Jean spoke softly as if talking to a frightened kitten. "It's not your fault."
I tightened. It wasn't like I was thinking it was my fault. I was just worried.
"I know." My voice came out wet from tears.
She ran her nails slowly through my hair, gently against my scalp. It was putting me to sleep. If I was asleep at least I wouldn't have to worry about D-M, but when if I went to sleep and I missed it in case she-she-
"You did the right thing that night." I stifled a cry. "She didn't want to hurt Trish, no matter what she believed."
"H-How did you know about that?"
"Her thoughts." I heard the weak smile in her voice. "She was so proud of you then, even though she didn't know what it was she felt. Daisy was happy."
"So happy she'd allow herself to die without telling anyone?"
Jean said my name again, drawing it out. Using her fingertips to turn my face enough so our eyes met, she smiled down at me. Using the pad of her thumb, she wiped away some of the tears who made an encore performance on my face. I felt nothing but a sad happiness at seeing the concern in her green eyes. If ever I wanted to, I could always say I had gotten my eye color from Jean's side of the family. That's if I ever wanted.
"Try to get some sleep." Nodding, I flipped back to the direction of the door. Jean resumed running her fingers through the length of my hair.
She picked up her humming, which turned into softly sung words. Her words turned to blackness. The blackness turned into a vacation from the worry and blame. A vacation I dearly needed. Even in my darkness of sleep I could still hear her.
Like a real mom singing a crying baby to sleep.
I smiled a bit at that thought when I went to the darkness.
"...smile, what's the use of crying, you'll find that life is still worthwhile..."
Three days later, things hadn't improved much. I was getting a bit too accustomed to sleeping on Jean's lap who always accompanied me when I spent the night in the hospital. I had lost three Grandparents in hospitals and two of them I never got to say good-bye to, if that was the case with D-M I would be there come hell or failing grades.
Another horrible trait I picked up was sleeping from the time I arrived (around four thirty in the afternoon) until early morning.
This time, when I finally decided to rejoin the world of the living, I found the others in the waiting room. And all of them were knocked out cold. Not like Adrian and Bobby-Jerk were knocked out earlier in the week, but in a deep snoring type of out. And I mean snore.
"Feeling better?" Jean asked as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I checked the clock, yipes! Midnight? "The doctor came in while you were asleep. He says Daisy is improving, but still in critical condition, the next few days should be able to tell how bad it will end up being."
I was feeling better, but was back having that scum of the earth type feeling.
"Here," she pushed money into my hand. I stared at the few dollars and then to the stretching red head. Nothing was clicking. "You're probably hungry, I'm sure there are some vending machines sitting around this hospital somewhere."
Oh! Okay, that made sense. I didn't have a clue what she was up to. Finding a nurse who knew where to find my desired machines, I went to find my food. It was a floor down and to the left, third door "couldn't miss". Right. I shouldn't have missed it, but somehow I did. I zigged when I should have made a U-turn and passed Go.
Standing at the vending machines, I couldn't help but give my image inducer reflection a sad smile. If Scott only knew about the many, many bad, calorie loaded things I was about to indulge in. For some reason, I saw a package of Jell-O in the refrigerated machine and felt tears start to well up.
Oh great, now if anyone was to come in they'd think I was crying over the amount of calories in a Reese's Peanut Butter cup or something just as tacky. That horrible 'it's-all-my-fault' feeling gnawed at my control by the hunk fulls. Adam thinks it's his fault but come on. I was the leader. I was her friend. I was the one who should have known. I should have been someone she was able to confide in. I should have noticed how sick she was. I should have...!
"Kookie?" My attention and pride snapped back so hard to the present it should have sent me flying into the wall.
I plastered a smile on my face. "Adrian."
He looked around the room, like the she-albino beast had followed us and was going to come leaping out of the wall or something. Cautiously he approached me, I wasn't going to bite. I was hungry, but I wasn't willing to turn to cannibalism quite yet. Use him as a battering ram to break the glass on the vending machine windows, maybe, but not eat him.
I kept my back to him, not wanting the tears or red puffiness of my face to show too much.
By the reflection, I saw hurt cross his face.
"Come 'ere, stubborn girl." He didn't give me any choice but to be forced to cry on his shoulder. It wasn't like I needed him, did I? Nope, not me. I was a single person crier. Yet, I ended up weeping like a child.
"We're all scared too." He murmured in my hair as he hugged me tighter to his very warm body. I didn't realize how cold I was until then. Time passed. It wasn't until I heard a throat being cleared that Adrian and I looked up from our rather cozy position to see Jean standing in the doorway.
We separated quicker than oil and water.
"Scott's going to stop and pick something up from a restaurant." Jean's voice had a funny tinge to it. "So don't ruin your appetite too much." She gave a humorless smile. "You know, with sweet stuff."
I was blushing like mad, and Adrian shrugged and left. Five minutes after I was left in the vending machine room, I finally gave up on trying to understand older females and guys as a whole. They were strange creatures.
Another two days later, a total of six days since D-M went into the ICU and I had a full tummy, was wide awake, and it was three. Everyone else in the room was sound asleep and it was still three.
Deciding that blasting the TV wouldn't be a wise thing, I got up and started to wander around the halls. Amazingly enough, not twenty-five feet away from the waiting room was a happy looking Bobby-Jerk.
"What are you doing?" I asked, arms crossed and eyebrow arching.
Did I forget to mention he was in a wheelchair?
"Being bored." He turned around on one wheel. "There's nothing much we can do for her. I'm not tired and the nurses are now on watch for me in the geriatrics since I went in there singing 'Who Wouldn't Want to Be Me.'" He shrugged.
"Geri-atrics?"
"Where they keep the old people," Bobby-Jerk clarified. His wrapped up hand was sitting in his lap. I felt bad because of that. Not like I could have prevented it, but I still didn't think he should have been cut up like that while just trying to help someone. "Wanna race?"
"What? How? Besides, isn't stealing wheelchairs wrong?"
Bobby-jerk smiled.
"Nah, they weren't using them. Besides, Scott and I use to take the Prof's spare wheelchairs all the time and race up and down the halls."
I choked.
"Scott use to do that?" I couldn't see Mr. Straight Laced with Starch doing something, you know, fun. It was just breaking too many natural laws.
He grinned.
"Yeah, so, want to see if you can beat me and carry on the Summers' name as gold medal wheelchair racer?"
Who could have passed up such a tempting offer?
Half an hour later we were caught by Jean and Adrian. Apparently our banter and screaming about running into walls had woken everyone up, even the nurses. They rudely told us to put the wheelchairs back where we had gotten them from and to grow up.
Sheesh, we only knocked one person over-who just happened to be the head nurse-but still! They just over-reacted!
Not to mention Bobby-jerk won and when he told Dad as much, Jean rolled her eyes. Dad, under his breath and close enough for only me and Bobby-Jerk to hear, said there would be a rematch at the mansion.
Who would've thought Scott as a wheelchair maniac?
And who would've thought I'd be following in his wheel tracks?
It was the seventh day, which brought the most joy and cause of celebration. But only a small joy and a one man party celebration.
"Daisy is out of the critical stage, but is still very weak. It's the most amazing thing we have ever seen. She is only half as bad as originally thought and improving every moment. I recommend that you don't go home. Cases such as this have known to take a turn for the worst in a split second. I think she'll want to see some friendly and familiar faces when she comes through, if she comes through during visiting hours."
There was a general sigh of relief at this information. D-M was going to be okay for now. After the news, there was a general buzz of happiness and comfort.
Not being much of a touchy feely type, I made my way up a floor or two. I was told to meet them in the cafeteria in an hour or so to have breakfast. Where I ended up was right outside the nursery. Don't ask me why, my whole reality had me scared silly and worried. My wings twitched with a lazy rhythm, I guess they were trying to warm up.
The babies were just as wrinkled and tiny as one would think they would be. I couldn't believe these little hairless pugs were going to be adults one day. They looked like they all needed a good ironing.
Smiling, I laughed at my own thoughts. I guess that proved it, I was as far from a girl-girl as a girl can be and still be considered slightly normal. I mean how healthy or common was it to think that babies need to be ironed to get all the wrinkles out?
"Typical girl has to run to the nursery." I whirled around to see Jack leaning against the wall, a smile on his face. "At least I think it's typical."
"Do I seem typical?" I inquired, turning back to the baby window display. Oh, come on, shops have dresses and shoes arranged behind a sheet of glass on the street, they do it with these kids too! See the connection?
"No." I felt him come closer but I didn't care at the moment. I watched as a little girl with the name 'Carol' kicked around in her pink blanket. Thoughts about D-M being a mother to a child like that, and then having to watch her daughter die—no wonder she wanted to kill. They couldn't help themselves and those hypocritical nurses and doctors held it over the baby's head like it was the child's fault.
Why were people so cruel?
My eyebrows flatten as my sense of humor remembered that I was the daughter of an emotionally hurtful woman myself.
Remember when I said I didn't care at the moment? Well two minutes later I did care where Jack was. The babies, in my mind at least, all stopped wiggling and woke up from their naps to go 'oooouuuuuuuuuuu' at the blushing teenager in front of them. His arms were tightly wrapped around my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder. This was the closest he had gotten to me in a long time. Well, except that freak death-grip hug thing he pulled like a month and half ago. Maybe it was longer than that, I forgot the when but I remembered what happened clear enough.
"Are you really okay?"
I slowly shook my head 'no'.
"She'll be fine, you know. Hank and the other handful of mutant doctors have been alerted, or so says Hank. She'll be fine. And if she turns out to be not so-okay, then know it wasn't your fault."
My head went down like I was ashamed. Perhaps I was. It was easier to blame myself than to stand haughtily to the side and say 'ain't my problem'. I was the type of girl who accepted everything as my fault. It was easier than pointing fingers. Well, I was that way sometimes.
The rest of the time I was in denial.
The added pressure to my stomach made my mind come back to the present.
I think I scared him because I didn't respond at first. Finally he started to remove his grasp, but a hand stopped him. My hand rested on top of his as I relaxed into his embrace. Though, the wings did present a slight problem. Sometimes I really wished they would just go away.
After the great news, everyone found their appetites. Since it was breakfast time, we all trooped down to the dining facility.
In the cafeteria, Dr. Hank was enjoying a pot of coffee with a straw sticking out of it. Jean looked exhausted and Scott became her new pole for remaining up right. Chris was fighting with Julie over the TV channel.
What they landed on was the news.
What the news said was something I never wanted to hear.
I completely froze. My breakfast dropped from my hands as my jaw decided to hit my lap.
"...In a recent development in the case of the John Doe found close to five weeks ago, there has finally been a positive identification. The man is said to be George Wilder from Acola, Washington. The cause of death, as reported by the police, was a point blank gunshot to the head..."
Oh boy...
