Fat Girls Return

9. Killer Brownie Aftermath

Picture of Rosie after weight loss 🔝
Elle's P.O.V

'Ouch,' is my first thought as I wake up in a stiff, wooden hospital chair with an ugly green cushion that's barely an inch thick.

'Crap!' My second thought is accompanied by a surge of panic as I leap to a standing position before I realize it's already too late and sit back down, resting my head in my hands, my elbows propped on my knees.

'He's gonna kill me.'

Fear crawls up my chest, into my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I allow myself a few deep breaths before I hesitantly tap Mrs. Everly - she fell asleep beside me in a similarly uncomfortable chair. Her hand is still holding Rosie's, her head resting in her other arm which creates a sort of pillow on the edge of Rosie's bed. I hold back a sigh, feeling bad about waking Mrs. Everly up. She stirs, her normally perfect blonde curls now wavy and swept across each other in a messy way that can only be achieved by sleeping.

"Elle?" She smiles, whispering sleepily.

I smile guiltily, "Morning, Mrs. Everly."

She smiles back, worry lines still etched in her forehead from the chaos of yesterday.

The doctors had been in and out of the room all day. Though Rosie seemed fine - well, as fine as she could be - the paramedics said allergic reactions, especially ones as severe as Rosie's, have to be dealt with carefully.

When we arrived at the hospital, Rosie's parents were waiting with worried looks and wringing fingers, their faces looking more tired than I'd ever seen them before. Once Rosie was admitted to a room, she hugged both of them, insisting that she would be okay. I couldn't help wishing I had parents like them for just a moment before I buried the thought. I'm thankful that my best friend does.

Rosie was looked over by yet another person, though this time it was a doctor, not a paramedic. She had to take some tests and let a kind nurse with pink Hello Kitty scrubs draw a couple vials of blood before she was finally settled into her hospital bed.

Rosie's parents and I stayed with her, distracting her from crying by switching through multiple TV channels, some of which played shows that just shouldn't be on TV. Of course, those were the shows Rosie and I chose to watch, laughing so hard at the cheesy jokes and bad acting that we couldn't hold back our sounds of snorting and wheezing, things we try to hide in public. ...Unsuccessfully.

When Rosie's dad reluctantly left the hospital around 8 last night to deal with an unruly client and her mom left the room 30 minutes later, leaving the two of us alone, Rosie had turned to me with tears in her eyes.

"Why would he do this to me?" She'd asked.

My heart broke, anger rising in me at the same time.

"I don't know," I responded softly.

Rosie nodded, tears falling down her cheeks.

I paused, silent for a moment before I took a breath and asked her, "Should we tell someone?"

Rosie looked up at me slowly, considering. "I don't know," she whispered. "I'm scared of what he might do."

I scowl, remembering the sound of his cruel laugh as Rosie was on the floor, not breathing.

"But if we tell, won't he get expelled? I mean, he almost killed you! Surely that has to mean expulsion, if not jail time or community service." I huff, digging my fingernails into my palms. All I want to do right now is punch Brandon in his already bruised face.

Rosie rolled her eyes and shrugged, staring out one of the two big windows in her hospital room. "Yeah, you would think so. But his dad would probably get him out of it somehow. And then what?" She snapped her gaze back to look at me. "We'd be the girls that told on him. He already makes our lives miserable; can you imagine what he'd do after we almost got him expelled or sent to jail?"