My ride home was long, and agonisingly boring. I drove with a lead foot as much as possible, my radio amped up to the highest possible volume on my brothers’ newest album. I stopped many times to get coffee, resisting the temptation to just stop at a hotel and stay the night.
I was relieved when I finally arrived at Derek’s gym. I had made the 687km trip in four hours, a sure sign that I wanted to get back. Derek got in silently, and, as if sensing my mood, stays silent during the ride.
He drops me off at the front entrance of my dorm, and, after helping me take out the suitcase filled with clothes Luce insisted I pack from the trunk, leaves, driving decidedly slower than I was coming in.
Probably trying to make a statement.
I pull my suitcase into the front hall, and to the stairs, slowly making my way upstairs, lost in thought. When I finally arrive at my room, I unlock the door and stumble in, ready to fall down and sleep the sleep of the dead.
Unfortunately I rarely get what I want in this place.
My room has been cleaned, the smell of disinfectant all over the place. Here at Whitestone Academy they use only A-grade cleaning materials. Note the sour tone of voice.
The perfect commercial.
My phone starts ringing just seconds after I start unpacking my suitcase.
“Lisanna Sinclaire speaking, how can I help you?” I answer on autopilot before I fall victim to the urge to throw my phone through the window.
“Doctor Michaels tells me you didn’t go for a check-up.” The stern voice of Doctor Peterson rings through the phone.
“I was busy, Doc.”
“No you weren’t. You don’t have CIPA, Lisanna. You can’t pretend that you don’t feel pain forever. You are hurting your body by keeping up the charade.”
I sigh, knowing I won’t win the argument. “When should I come in?” He won’t let it go until I go for a check-up. I think he’d rather cut off his leg… or phone Tyson.
Either way, I have to go.
“I have time now. Stop here on the way to school.”
“I’ve already arrived, Doc. Derek has my car.” I give the information willingly, hoping to deter him.
“Get that teacher to drive you. Get a lift. Call Derek. Just get here, Lisanna Sinclaire. Before I call your brother. Good afternoon.” His greeting is formal, stiff, and stern.
No choice then. “Yeah. Bye. I’ll see you soon.”
I end the phone-call, then slip into a pair of sweatpants and a form fitting long-sleeved shirt and sneakers.
Before I exit my room, I grab a hoodie and a sling-bag, and stalk next door, to Nick’s room.
I knock loudly, incisively.
He is slow to answer. He opens the door hesitantly, slowly, using his body to block the view of the room.
“Yo, teach. I don’t care who your cuddle-buddy is, I need to get to the hospital, pronto. Doc Peterson wants me.”My voice is mocking, and I smirk at the arrogant person that is Nick, knowing that his ego is going to receive another dent soon.
Nick frowns, a look of worry crossing his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, the doc’s just being careful. I just need a lift to the hospital. Tell your guy you’ll be back in a minute.” I hint again, and he scowls pulling his door open completely.
YOU ARE READING
Slayers: When Right Becomes Wrong
RomanceLisanna Sinclaire isn't a normal girl. As a child, she's been through more than the average adult goes through in a lifetime. And she came through it broken, maimed for life. When her brother places her in a prestigious hostel, she has mixed feeling...
