Thorns

7 - Rai

Rai

Ok... So, I didn't actually predict this. Perfect Life Copper Girl has diabetes. Type I, accordin' to what she told the nurse. That must be hell...

She was leanin' onto my body, 'cause she could barely support her own weight. Her copper hair was leaning on my shoulder, and she was moanin' a little like she was dreamin', or somethin'. She was really pale, like a sheet. It was kinda scary, actually. She just dropped on the tracks, like those princesses in the movies, and didn't get up until Coach Yates got her.

Nurse Tucker was talkin' on the phone with one of her fathers - she called him Mr. Gordon, so I can't actually know which one it was. After the brief call, the Nurse opened Whitney's small black purse and prepared the needle. Shit, that must hurt...

"Hold her still." She told me, and lifted her shirt "Damn..." She whispered, and then looked at me "You close your eyes boy, you hear me?"

I frowned. She pulled down her cotton pants. Oh... Ok. Got it. I closed my eyes. After I heard a "shft" sound, Whitney moan, and Nurse Tucker pull up her pants up again, I opened them.

"That should do it, for now." Nurse Tucker said, with a sigh "I have to inform the Principal. I'm leaving you alone with the girl. If you so much as think about doing something..."

"Don't sweat it." I grunted, through clenched teeth "I'll be as good as a Catholic boy."

She gave me a cold look, told me not let her lay down, and left.

So... here I was... alone with Whitney Gordon in my arms. Nice... Wasn't exactly what I was wishin' for when I thought about it. Didn't wish it, though. Just sayin', if we ever fooled around...

After a few minutes, she lifted her head and brushed her lemon-scented copper hair off her face. Her eyes were dark, but her face was still white. She supported her upper body in the hospital bed thing, her legs dangling. I peeked through her hands, and I could see that she was shaking. Not a good sign... right?

"Hey."

She opened one of her eyes and I saw the blue color through her long fingers.

"You're shaking. Are you cold?"

"Not cold." She said, her voice was very soft, almost embarrassed "It's just... I'm hypoglycemic. It's when-"

"I know what it is." I assured her "So that's why you have to take insulin?"

"She didn't give me insulin." Whitney said, her hands still to her face "It was glucagon. It's a hormone. It helps raise the glucose level in the blood. The insulin is for when I'm hyperglycemic, so it lowers the glucose. I need to eat."

"Huh, ok... What do you want?" I asked, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Something with high carbohydrates." She said, and then pointed to her black and gold handbag "Inside the bag. Cereal bar."

It was a small cereal bar, and she ate it all like it was a rescue buoy. And maybe it was.

What could I say to her? Ask her what's it like to be sick? She hates me. I hate her. Simple. Don't care about her life, like she couldn't give a damn about mine.

"Don't you have to eat... you know... more?" I asked when she finished the cereal bar.

"Since I took the hormone, no. Better not. Or I'll be hyperglycemic and then it will be a mess" She said, closing her eyes and putting her head against the wall, so her upper body was straight.

She was tryin' to breathe slowly, I could see her chest goin' up and down methodically.

"Didn't know you're a Diabetic."

"Were you expecting some heartfelt post on social media?" She tossed.

Maybe not... Well, kinda, yeah. Shouldn't she have an ID sayin' she was a diabetic, though?

"Shouldn't you have some sort of ID with you?"

"I do have a Diabetic card," She said, her eyes still closed.

"I saw people with bracelets and shit like that."

"Yeah... shit like that. No, thanks."

The door swings open after a few minutes of silence. A tall blonde man enters and immediately grabs Whitney's face in his hands.

"How can you be so stupid?! Will you tell me?"

"Sorry, Daddy," She said, with nothin' more than a whisper.

Daddy? So this was one of the... huh, fathers? Ok, so the guy doesn't look anything like mi primo Jorge said. He's actually a very normal lookin' dude, tall and slim, with jeans, some boots, and a comfy sweater. He looks like a father, to me.

"Sorry doesn't cover it, Whit. You could get into a coma. Don't you remember what happened last time? Wanna go there again?"

Coma? Seriously? She could go into a coma for... not eating? And here I thought when she passed out, that she was on a diet - not that she needs it, she's fine to me... more than fine, but that doesn't matter right now.

"Did the nurse give you the hormone?" He asked, his long hands checked every inch of Whitney, and I could see him shaking "Did you eat your cereal bar?"

Does this guy know everything?! Next thing he's gonna say if her left thigh is stingin', or somethin'.

"Did she give the shot right? We gotta go to Doctor Park so he can see your belly. Thigh won't do."

Geez... He knows everythin'. Creepy.

"Daddy, I'm fine. Really. It was just... stupid. Happy? I'm feeling better, now."

"We're going to the hospital. Right now" The guy said, grabbin' her purse and preparing to help her up, but Whitney shoved her hands away from her father's and her big blue eyes opened.

"Dad. I'm telling you I'm fine. Forgot I'm eighteen, now? You can't make me go."

"Are you threatening me or just testing me? Because either way, you'll do as I tell you" He assured her, and even I felt a tingle in the back of my neck; the guy could be scary.

"Can we just leave without making a fuss? Please?" She asked him, sensin' she lost the fight.

"As long as we do it now," He said.

"I'll help you."

The guy looked at me over his shoulder, as if only now acknowledgin' me. He scanned me from head to toe, and I actually felt he was thinkin' 'Who the hell are you to stay in the same room as my daughter?!'. And, yeah... it actually made me scowl. Only a little.

"And who are you?" He asked, frowning.

"Daddy, stop. I know you're mad, but you're mad at me, not Rai."

"Rai? You're Raimundo Vega?"

"Rai," I said, 'cause Raimundo was too... don't know, just... sissy! "Yeah. That's me."

"He helped me, ok? So back off" Whitney told her dad, and dropped to the floor, her legs finally supportin' her weight.

"Sorry." The guy told me, and showed his light palm, waitin' for me to shake it; I did "Thank you for helping Whitney. I appreciate it immensely. Greg Gordon. And thank you, but I can carry her. C'mon, Whit."

Whitney walked a few steps, her dad always by her side, makin' sure she wouldn't trip and fall again. Yeah... must be nice to have someone like that, always assuring you wouldn't fall. Your personal airbag.