Chapter 20: 1.18
Chapter Text
You rise from your bed the second the clock hits six o'clock. You refuse to look at it, knowing that if you see it now, you're going to spend the next half an hour straightening it. Instead, you head over to your dresser and quietly pull out some clothes suitable for running, then strip, pull the clothes on, and walk briskly out of your room.
Dad isn't awake out there. Good. You pass straight to the door, pausing to make sure the spare key is still there- it is- before you head out into the streets and begin jogging. You realize quickly that you forgot your water bottle, but- you'll live.
Your shoes slap against the asphalt of the roads, the sound seeming louder than it should be thanks to the stillness of the houses around you. You concentrate on your breathing, a basic rythm you'd picked up from Sophia. Two steps, left, right. Inhale. Two steps, left, right. Exhale. Two steps, left, right. Inhale. Over and over. The minutes blur by, but you're barely cognizant of them. You just jog. Left at Baker. Left at Kappel. Left at Elm. Left at Terracotta. Back home. Left at Baker. Left at Kappel.
Your legs burn, but that's okay.
Eventually, it's seven. You keep going. Seven fifteen. Seven thirty. Seven forty-five.
By eight, your legs are aching, your lungs are burning, and your throat feels parched.
Oddly, your thoughts feel freer. Clearer.
Sophia was right. Jogging does help. The simple rythm of it, the way the world falls away around you- yeah. You can see why she does this.
Dad is gone by the time you return home. He left you a mug of coffee sitting on the table, and a small piece of paper. A note, you think at first, telling you to go to school. But when you pick it up, the message is simpler than that. Warmer than that.
I called the school and told them you might not be in today.
Talk to me when you're ready. I'll be here for you.
I love you.
Your chest aches, but it's a good ache this time.
With Dad's implicit permission to skip school, you feel assured about your decision to skip school for the day. You feel bad about leaving Madison alone- actually, you feel really bad about that, and kind of lonely- but you can't deal with Emma today. You need some time away from her, some time to process what she said last night.
Instead, you head back to your room and get another change of clothes, then head to the shower. You're covered in sweat. It feels a little gross, even if you're pretty sure you don't stink too badly. Once you're in there, you take your time, luxuriating in the heat of the shower and allowing the water to run down and soothe your aching legs. You're tempted to take care of another ache while you're in there, but... maybe now isn't the best time. Not so soon after last night.
You climb out and towel off, getting dressed in your clothes. They're not very exciting, but you're not planning on doing very much that's exciting today. You just need to distract yourself. You're feeling a little better already. The jog, and the following shower, definitely helped.
The change jar isn't getting any fuller, but you reach in and pull out some coins anyway. Dad won't mind, and you know that he'd prefer you take the bus to the clinic rather than try to walk there yourself. It's not safe to walk through those parts of town, especially not for a young girl like yourself.
... Not that it feels much safer to drive right now, given what Emma told you last night. Still, buses aren't cars. They have security cameras, and there are more people on them. They should be safe, right?
You walk to the bus stop. When the bus arrives, you hide in the seat closest to the bus driver, and make sure you're in view of the security camera at all time.
Luckily, you do make it to the clinic safely. The bus driver gives you a little wave as you step off the bus; you wave back, but don't smile at him. He closes the door in your face. Rude.
Shaking your head, you turn and head over to the clinic. It's not that far away from the bus stop, so it doesn't take you long to arrive. According to the clock hanging at the back of the room, in fact, it's not even nine thirty when you get in.
The receptionist- a different one, today, a man with darker skin and a wig- gives you an odd look as you approach the counter and pull the sign-in book over to you. "Aren't you meant to be in school right now?" he asks. His voice is deep, and there's a strange coarseness to it, like he's inhaled too much smoke in his life.
You shrug half-heartedly, but before you can work up the willpower to answer, you're distracted by the sound of someone calling your name behind you. You turn, and are immediately confronted by a man in a long white labcoat- Doctor Fitzgerald. He's actually wearing doctor-y clothes today. Do doctors really wear coats like that? Huh. You'd though that was just a TV convention.
"Isn't today a schoolday?" he asks. You just nod and half-shrug your shoulders. "... Does your father know you're here, at least?"
"Yeah," you reply. "He, um, rang the school and told them I wouldn't be in today. I needed to, to do something else. I can't go in today. So I came here. That's okay, isn't it?" You can't help the fact that you're pleading with him by the end of your sentence.
He looks at you searchingly. Whatever he finds in your face, he seems to come to a decision as he steps forward, past you, and moves to the sign-in book. For a moment, your heart falls when he picks up the pen and scribbles your name out, but then he turns to you with a gentle expression on his face.
"We can't have a minor volunteering during school hours," he begins. "I'd be forced to report you for truancy if I knew you were here. But I don't know you're here, and I'm going to be very surprised when I walk into the storeroom later today and find that someone has inventoried all our supplies for us. Okay?"
You nod, your jaw set. Yeah, you understand. He's bending the rules for you. You don't understand why- you'd been hoping he just wouldn't find out- but you're not going to argue. "Yeah," you say. "It's weird how that happens sometimes."
"Good." He stands, then hesitates. "Did you bring lunch?" Shit. No, you didn't. He must see the answer on your face, because he continues, "No, that's okay. Take your lunch break at one, and tell Claire I told you it's okay to have one of the sandwiches in the fridge."
"Okay," you say. Then, impulsively, you lean forwards and give him a quick hug before rushing off to the storeroom.
You've been in here before, but you weren't really paying attention to just how much stuff is in here when you were last here. You'd just been focused on cleaning it up. Now, you look around, and you marvel a little. You had a vague idea before now of how many supplies a clinic or hospital needed to run, but now you can really appreciate it. There are eight stacks in here, each with five shelves on them longer than your forearm. And there aren't many empty spaces on them.
Inventorying the room is going to keep you busy, at least. Just as you like it.
Spotting a clipboard containing a thin sheaf of papers hanging on the side of the stacks, you grab it off and check that they're the right sheets. They are, and so you get to work.
When you emerge a good three and a half hours later, you've done a very solid amount of work. Five shelves have been fully inventoried. Along the way, you've been checking the seals on the boxes, marking down which ones have been opened and how many supplies have been removed from each box. You don't know if it's helpful, but if anyone's stolen supplies, at least Doctor Fitzgerald will know.
Doing this has... helped, you think. It's calmed your mind, at least. Your thoughts aren't jumping from place to place, now, and you're not feeling quite so miserable. You're not feeling perfect, but you can deal with that. You're used to not feeling perfect.
It's actually a little past one when you make your way out to the break room. A handful of nurses are still trailing their way out of the room, some of them clutching cups of vending machine coffee in their hands. You tilt your head, considering- but, uh, yeah, you haven't even received your first paycheque yet. Yeah, you'll avoid buying any for the moment.
There aren't a lot of people in the break room when you make your way in there. There's a woman with shoulder-length hair, as black as your own, two men sitting down at a table- you note their clutched hands beneath the table; your chest feels warm again at the sight- with empty mugs sitting before them, and-
"Taylor?"
- Amy is sitting in what looks like an awfully comfortable little lounge at the back of the room, clutching another styrofoam cup in one hand and a book in the other. She's giving you a bewildered look, which you return. What? You're not that surprising, you think...
"Aren't you-" She climbs out of her chair and moves closer to you, but her words trail off when she gets close enough to get a good look at you. She shuts her mouth, raising her cup awkwardly to take a sip before she says anything. "Um, never mind. Are you on break right now?"
You nod. "Yeah. Doctor Fitzgerald told me I should take a break now, and ask, uh, Claire? For a sandwich."
She snorts. "A sandwich. God, that man. Okay, no, come on." She grabs your hand, but- no. You dig your heels in, refusing to move.
"Where are you trying to take me?" you ask steadily.
She pauses and looks back, giving you a scrutinizing look. "Just to the cafeteria," she says slowly. "My f- New Wave funds it. This coffee tastes awful anyway, so I was going to get myself a better one. I'll buy you some lunch and we can talk."
If warm feelings keep bubbling up in your chest like this, you're not sure how you're going to stay angry even at Emma for long. You discard that thought as quickly as it floats through your head, choosing instead to waggle your eyebrows at Amy. "Buying me lunch already? That's moving a bit fast, but okay..."
She splutters, and you grin, darting past her. She follows you, still attempting a denial. "That's- that's not what I mean, Taylor!"
You stop, schooling your face into a pout, and turn to her. "Oh," you say, trying your best to sound dejected. "You don't want to have lunch with me?"
"I- I-" Her face goes red. You can't help the grin that takes over your face, and her pleading expression quickly turns into a scowl. "Taylor!" she groans. "Stop teasing me."
"But I'm not teasing you. You just want to go on a daaate~" you say in a sing-song voice. Her face goes even redder, and all she can do is gape at you for a moment, before she groans and buries her face in her hands.
"Argh," she growls. "Call it whatever you want. Keep teasing me and I'll make you pay for your own lunch."
Ack. You pout at her. "Fine, fine," you say. You don't actually know where the cafeteria is, so you let her show you the way. You don't actually follow her, though- you remain in front of her, turning your head just enough that you can see when she's about to turn. You almost trip over twice. Worth it.
You haven't actually been in the cafeteria before. It's not a very large place, just a small place with a counter at one end and half a dozen tables at the other.
"Yeah, it's not very big," Amy tells you when she sees you looking. "It's more here so the families of the people who come in to get treated can get something cheap to eat. Um, is a pie okay? They have beef or chicken. And a drink, maybe..." She deliberately sweeps her eyes up and down your body, and says in a sweet tone, "A chocolate milk?"
You smile at her, probably showing a few too many teeth. She looks far too proud of herself for managing to tease you in turn. "Why, Amy, I didn't know you were into that kind of thing."
"There's a lot you don't-" she says instinctively, then stops and recoils when she realizes what she is about to imply. "Uh. Uh, never mind! I'll just get you a Coke. Be right back!"
You snort as you watch her run off. Teasing Amy is hilarious.
She comes back a couple of minutes later bearing three large paper bags, two bottles of Coke, and a face that's finally cleared of its redness. She places two of the bags in front of you, then eagerly tears open the other one, revealing a slice of marbled cheesecake. "I know I shouldn't," she says matter-of-factly, "but Idra makes some really good cheeesecake." And she takes a large bite of it. You can't help but watch, fascinated- not by her eating, but by the way her eyes flutter closed, by the smile that steals across her face, by the way her little pink tongue darts out to brush off a few extra crumbs and wow, you're actually feeling jealous of a cheesecake. That's a new level of weirdness, even for you. You're going to have a new image for tonight, you think, although the kind of eating you're imagining is rather less literal.
Her eyes flutter back open, and she freezes when she sees you staring intensely at her. "Wh- what?" she asks, her face heating up again. That didn't take long.
"Nothing," you hum. Probably a bit too early for you to be sharing those thoughts with her. "So what kind of pie did you buy?"
She gives you an odd look, but drops it. You do see her looking consideringly down at her cheesecake, though. "Chicken," she says. "I didn't know which you'd prefer, sorry."
"No, it's okay," you assure her. "Thanks for buying me lunch, Amy."
She shrugs. "Thanks for having lunch with me. Most of the people here wouldn't dream of it."
"Yeah, well, that's their mistake," you say, and smile at her. "They're really missing out, but I don't think I'll tell them. I want to keep you all to myself."
Her face turns red again, but oddly, she looks pleased rather than flustered. Damn, your teasing must be off. You're not getting the right reactions from her now. "Thanks," she mumbles. "So! Um, um. Oh! I was reading a new book. It's an Earth Aleph book, my cousin gave it to me, said she thought it was sexy, she's always been a bit weird... It's called, um, Twilight, I think. It's a bit creepy, though..."
You and Amy end up being drawn into a discussion for well over an hour. A little after two, you see Doctor Fitzgerald stick his head into the cafeteria with a harried look on his face, but Amy doesn't notice, and when he sees the two of you talking animatedly, he stops, then quickly retreats, an odd look on his face.
Eventually, enough time passes that Amy actually yelps when she casually glances at her watch. "Three?" she shouts. "Oh man- Taylor, I'm sorry, I have to get back to work. Um, I'll see you again, hopefully?"
You nod firmly. "Definitely," you vow. If nothing else, you're going to keep coming back just to see her, and that cute little tongue of hers. And the cute rest of her, but you're fascinated by that tongue. The fact that she actually has good taste in books, well- that's just an added bonus, you think.
It's with that positive thought that you go back to inventorying, barely aware of how much your mood has improved since last night.
It hits four when you finally prepare to go home. You only need to be home by six, but you don't think Amy's going to be coming back down, and you need to prepare for Sophia's arrival.
More than that, though, you sieze the bus ride as an opportunity to begin writing down your plans for the next couple of days. You blew today- and you're pretty sure you're going to have to make up for that- but there's still two more days in the week after you finish up with Sophia tonight.
You plan to...
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