White Noise (The Inadequate Experiments 1)

8. Sherlock and Watson

Calliope

Harsh light seeped through my eyelids in a red blur. And I squeezed them shut, wishing for more sleep. I rolled over onto my side and flinched, gasping aloud as pain seared down the right side of my body. The sudden movement sent me tumbling off the side of my bed and onto the floor. I cursed loudly. At least the hospital beds had rails down the side – ever since returning home, I hadn't gotten used to functioning with my burns.

I stretched out to push myself into a sitting position on the plush carpet and cried out; I had instinctively used my right arm. The scar tissue had stiffened overnight, pain jarring my arm as I tried – and failed – to fully extend it.

My door slammed open.

"Cal?"

I sighed in relief at Josh's voice and gave him a sheepish smile. "Hey Joshy," I said, "can you give me a hand?"

The thirteen-year-old looked at me sceptically. "Did you fall out of bed?"

I shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at the scar tissue on my shoulder. "You'd be surprised just how much getting caught in a fire screws you up, little man." I joked as he helped me carefully back onto my bed.

"No, I know." He insisted. "Look at what happened to Libby."

I froze.

Josh paled as he realised the possible meaning behind his words. "I... I'll go grab a new pressure bandage for your arm. You have to change it every morning, right?"

I nodded, sighing as he left the room. Oliver may have said that he didn't blame me for Libby's death, but the rest of the family wasn't so forthcoming. Even little Josh seemed to be slipping away from me.

As carefully as I could, I lay down and pulled the blankets around myself. I'd only been home for two days, and I already needed to get out of there. I sighed, reaching for my phone – with my left hand. Maybe David would save me if I told him I was having a psychological breakdown. I thought back to the haunting image of Libby in the hospital. Maybe I was having a psychological breakdown.

"Hey, Ollie!" I heard Josh call. "Can you give me a hand in the kitchen? I can't reach Cal's bandages!"

I scoffed as I unlocked my phone, and I was surprised to find a missed call from my classmate, Hyoyeon. She was a small, quiet girl who was a third generation immigrant following an earthquake in Korea a few decades ago. I sat next to her in most of my classes, but we never really talked. I wasn't quite sure if that made us friends. Confused, I dialled 101 and listened to her voicemail.

"Uh, hey Calliope," she said, quiet even over the phone, "I heard you got released from hospital today and just wanted to make sure you were doing okay."

She paused.

"I can't say much over the phone, but my cousin – you know, the Scientist? – mentioned something that you might find interesting. Let me know when you want to catch up."

The message ended.

My mind reeled. It was no mystery that Hyoyeon's cousin was a Scientist – practically everyone knew – but I had no idea what he could have mentioned to her that I would like to know. I sent her a hurried text telling her to meet me at the Java House that afternoon.

Then Josh burst back into my room.

"Cal!" He gasped, out of breath from running up the stairs. "Cal, Ollie's not here, and I don't remember hearing him come in last night!" His gaze drifted to my right arm. "And, uh, I can't reach your bandages – dad put them on the top shelf."