Jungle Princess ✔

Chapter 16: Let's Get Clinical

Every six months Amarissa and Ricardo were obliged by their mother to get a check-up from their GP, Dr Andrews. And for six months Amarissa would dread it, right up until they were in Dr Andrews' office, and when they left, she would dread the next appointment. So Amarissa lived her life in dread.

Amarissa stepped through the doors of the clinic and scanned the waiting room as usual, in order to locate a seat where no one would bother her. But today the clinic was particularly full, leaving the only three seats for her mother, brother and herself scattered around the room in precarious places. Bonita sat beside an old man who kept coughing loudly every twenty seconds, so Ricardo took the seat next to a pregnant woman who rubbed her six month belly and whispered to it. So naturally, Amarissa took the last seat, which was beside a guy in a navy hoodie that obscured his face from view. It was only when she planted herself down that she glanced to her right and realized...it was Deandre.

"Deandre?" she whispered in disbelief.

He turned his head slowly to her, his hood falling from his head to reveal startling grey-green eyes and black curls cropped close to his scalp. The corners of his plump lips turned up in surprise. "Amarissa." Amarissa had to stop herself from sighing pleasurably at the sound of her name in his voice. "I didn't know you went to this clinic."

"I've been going since I was a kid," Amarissa replied nonchalantly. "Every six months. It's torture."

"Funny how in all that time we never bumped into each other," Deandre remarked with a wry smile. "I go here every three months. Beat that."

Amarissa realised how discourteous she had been, feeling sorry for herself when here was a guy in a worse condition than she. "I'm sorry."

Deandre raised an eyebrow. "For what? My diabetes? That ain't anybody's fault but my pancreas and its inability to do its job. I swear, it's such a slacker!"

Amarissa laughed, feeling the ice melt between them. She had never felt comfortable pitying someone else. She was glad he was in good humour about it, and not in a depressed state. Amarissa wouldn't know what she would have done if one of her relatives had a fatal disease. She'd self-combust from all the pity and sympathy.

"So, you take insulin every day?" Amarissa said. She had done her biology assignment on diabetes last year. She knew everything she needed to know about it, like how there were two types, 1 and 2. And at the rate she was going with her obsession for Nutella donuts and Reese's Pieces peanut butter cups, she was well on her way to type 2.

Deandre nodded. "Yep. Stabbing myself with a needle three times a day has become a habit."

Amarissa laughed. "I could never be able to handle that," she admitted. "You are so -"

She was going to say brave, when she realised how stupid that sounded. It was the most cliché thing to say to someone with an illness.

Deandre finished her sentence for her. "Amazing? Inspirational? Yeah, I get that all the time. I am a diabetic hero."

A short woman with curly blonde hair scraped up into a bun marched in with a clipboard, calling out a name. "Uh, Dee-anne - der Jackson?"

Deandre smirked, sharing a raised eyebrow look with Amarissa as he stood up. "They never get it right," he tsked.

"Tell me about it," Amarissa sympathised, leaning back in her hard plastic chair. Her name wasn't always pronounced properly either. Sometimes people would add letters that weren't even in there and call her Amarista or Mariesha. That was one of the reasons she stayed well away from Starbucks.

Amarissa noticed a man stand up as well and follow Deandre. He had been sitting with Deandre that entire time, so Amarissa assumed it was his father. Except, he didn't look like Deandre. He was pale, with brown receding hair and glasses, and a large prominent nose. So who was he?