❀❀❀

Several hours and one Metrobus ride later, Mason and I made it to the school where we were greeted by the sight of the least professional working adult I knew. 

In spite of the dark grey khakis and tucked-in white button-down dress shirt, somehow, Noel McFadyen always looked to be perpetually disheveled. Conceivably it was his unkempt beard and dark brunette hair that surely never knew the touch of a brush that gave him that impression. But whatever it was, he looked like he sold drugs and porno mags to kids in some seedy back alley.

Not like his personality was any better. Watching him sprawled out on one of the beds playing some game on his iPhone while the receiver to his office phone dangled by its cord off to the side, made me wonder if his creed in life was to do the bare minimum required of him, and that annoyed me.

With my injured hand still elevated, I stomped towards his desk and slammed the handset back on its cradle. The loud clash alerted Noel to our presence and brought his attention to us. His rigid face with its perpetual scowl turned to me.

"Excuse you, but if you could kindly put the phone back where it was, I'd appreciate it greatly," he asked, a hint of irritation in his deep voice.

"Is this what you get paid to do?" I greeted crossly, knowing full well that he was on the clock right now.

Noel eased upwards and swung his feet off the bed. "Yes, now before Mrs. Jones calls again about her brat of a so-" just then a ringing sound interrupted what Noel was in the middle of saying.

Before I could even think about answering the call, Noel leaped to his feet and crossed the room, slamming the phone down on the receiver until the ringer shut off. He then took it back off the cradle and gave me a hard look.

Was the principal on drugs when he hired this man?

"Don't touch," he ordered then turned around to return to his bed. I frowned, glaring daggers into the back of his skull.

Pain and lack of sleep had already dampened my mood significantly, and dealing with him was not helping.

"So, Miss Rabbit and Mr. Mason, what brings you two by my quaint little office," inquired Noel, picking up his iPhone once again.

"Don't call me that," I ground out. The tone of my voice brought his gaze to my face.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Abbi was it?" he asked, knowing full well what it was considering we have known each other for at least three and a half years. 

His blue eyes flitted to my injury then suddenly they were cold. Now he notices.

His iPhone was placed to the side, and he was back on his feet beside me. "Hand," he demanded curtly.

Without arguing further, I gave him what he wanted and watched closely as he unwrapped the gauze. A sharp pain radiated up my arm in waves the more he uncovered until he was carefully tugging the last strand of cotton fabric that had gotten stuck against the wound.

"I'm...to need...the bandage..." the words Noel spoke were becoming more and more drowned out by the loud sound of rushing air. The room spun. "Crap, ...she goes."

My legs gave out from under me. Just as I felt someone's arms snake around me, the world began to go dark, and the maddening commotion in my ears grew louder. None of my limbs wanted to work.

"Mas...,

...you to

...wet paper towels."

And then nothing.

Something cold and wet pressed against my forehead, alleviating the fog swirling in my head ever so slightly. Vaguely I could hear voices murmuring above me. I concentrated on the noise in confusion.

Then it came back to me all at once.

"Fuck," I moaned, mortified. I opened my eyes and let the room gradually come back into focus.

"Welcome back," greeted Noel to the side of me.

A cold breeze caused goosebumps to cascade up my arms now that my coat was discarded. I groaned even louder in response, stopping when I felt someone latch onto my arm. I turned to see Mason. His usually cheerful face was scrunched in distress.

An emotion I put there.

"Hey, Mase, look I'm okay," I soothed as the sound of the first bell rang in the distance.

"You scared me."

"I'm okay," I repeated, a pang twisting in my gut at how broken he sounds.

Why do I always cause him such pain?

"What have you eaten today?" questioned Noel, abruptly.

Mason caught my gaze. "Nothing," I admitted.

Grumbling to himself, Noel pointed at the refrigerator and instructed, "Kid, go into the fridge and grab my lunch. Feed her. I need to prepare some supplies. You're going to need sutures."

Great.

Both of them started moving around the room while I stayed glued to the bed, afraid to stir. I heard a click of a lock followed by doors opening and closing, and the clattering of objects being shifted about. From my peripheral, I watched Mason jog back to me carrying a blue lunch pail which he sat on the bed before leaning over to crank the lever that would prop me up.

Once I was vertical, Mason started rifling through Noel's lunch while I remained silent. Eventually, he settled on a sub sandwich that he tugged out and began unwrapping, letting the smell of deli meat and cheese fill my senses. I reached over to take the food from him, but he swatted my hand away, giving me a strange sense of déjà vu.

"Let me help you," he urged.

I nodded weakly at him, feeling too emotionally and physically drained to fight back. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Thanks," he said with forced happiness.

He held the sandwich near my mouth, letting me take a huge bite of it. It was tasteless and dry. But I kept eating anyway until it was gone.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered for only me to hear. "I should've woken up sooner. If I was there-"

"Don't," I warned. "Please, don't blame yourself. Listen to me. None of this will ever be your fault. Ever. I'm glad you got to me when you did because if she hurt you, I wouldn't be able to handle that."

He didn't look fully convinced. "But-"

A variety of medical instruments and bottles filled with mystery liquids were plopped onto the bed next to my feet, startling me slightly and silencing Mason. I gave Mason a weak smile, and he returned it, letting the topic drop for now.

I looked at the supplies Noel had brought over.

"It's very concerning that you have all this shit just lying around at a high school's nurse's office. I imagine this isn't normal inventory," I commented, wondering where he even got them.

"Well, considering I have you as a patient, I had to expand what we had in stock, especially after the incident in October when you split your head open, and I thought you'd need stitches then," he explained without any emotion.

He lifted the syringe and my eyes squeezed shut. I felt a sharp prick penetrate the skin around my wound. "And if you ever decide to get insurance to go to a real hospital, I won't have to continuously break a hell of a lot of laws tending to you like this."

Guilt squeezed my throat, choking me until I could no longer swallow. His words stuck to me, imprinting on my already dirtied soul next to the remorse I felt every time I looked at Mason.

"And how is a high schooler supposed to get insurance?" snapped Mason.

Noel poured some liquid into a white rectangular tray and placed square cotton swabs into it. "There are plenty of old single men out there with good jobs and insurance who want a young bride. Marry one. Simple."

"That's sick! What kind of suggestion is that?"

Noel shrugged and began poking around my wound, gauging my reaction. "A very good one, I thought – does this hurt?"

Mason huffed in frustration but said nothing more – probably to let Noel focus on his work. I sent Mason a sympathetic smile then shook my head. "It's numb."

With his gloved hand, Noel picked up a now-soaked square and pressed it into each tear on my palm. I cringed at the sight and the odd sensation but felt no pain.

"If you don't want to marry some old guy, then I suggest that you apply for some government programs like I've told you before."

I bit my lip.

The problem with going to the hospital involved much more than a lack of insurance and the money to go. Doctors would have too many questions that I would refuse to give answers to, not unless I wanted my mother to get into trouble.

And I didn't.

"I'll take your silence as you're not going to listen to me," he needled in frustration the longer I didn't speak.

I swallowed down my unease. "If you want me to stop coming here, I will," I offered with a steady voice despite my rising dread. No matter how much he rubs me the wrong way, I relied on him, and for many reasons, that scared me.

His blue eyes bore into me from above his work. He placed another bloodied cotton swab down and picked up a hooked needle that had a long dark thread attached to its end. "No," he stated then turned back to my hand. "This is a bit more fun than what the school would have me do right now, and it's not like you're in here that often."

Relieved at his words, I let out a deep breath, relaxing a bit despite my situation. Mutely, I watched Noel, who, like a parent carefully sewing up a hole in their child's clothes, began to stitch up the tears in my skin.

In under five minutes, I had twelve sutures and all three cuts on my palm were sewn shut. Noel looked down at my hand with pride as he cleaned the blood off. The elated expression on his face made me wonder if he missed working in the ER.

He reached over and picked up a cylindrical tube then squeezed the contents out onto my palm. His eyes flickered up from his work, landing on Mason. "Kid, after I'm done here, I want you to come with me to the pharmacy to get some supplies for her."

My eyebrows scrunched together. "What? No, he's going to class," I interjected, not liking the idea of Noel taking Mason somewhere.

"It's fine. It's only the second day of classes, and I'll even write him a note so he doesn't get in trouble. Besides, out of the two of you, he's the more responsible one, so I'd like to go over suture care instructions with him."

I pushed my hair back in exasperation, careful not to move the hand Noel was currently wrapping.

"I'll go," Mason agreed. I whipped my head around to look at him. "My morning classes are easy. I'll be fine."

I frowned, clearly not comfortable with the idea, but I didn't have much say in the matter. "Fine," I begrudgingly submitted but warned, "Take him to the store or wherever and back. Do not take Mason anywhere shady or I will kill you."

Noel held his hands up. "On my life, I'll take care of your precious friend. But in the meantime, I want you to sleep, and do not under any circumstances, get your stitches wet. We won't be long."

He started cleaning everything up but paused to say, "Oh, and if anyone comes in while we're gone, just tell them it's a free-for-all."

Why is he like this?