Lie Detector

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"Hey, brat," He grabs my shoulder again and I smack his hand away automatically. I am so, so, so stupid. Alfred's right. I'm waste of air. "Hey, Jayden, right? What's wrong with you? Are you scared of hospitals or something?"

He sounds concerned. About me? Yeah right. Like anyone could be concerned about me really. I set my eyes on the air conditioning vent and speak. "I'm sorry, this was a mistake, sir. I can't go in there."

"What?" He growls, reaching for me again.

"Sorry, sir," I mutter, recoiling from the touch.

"Get out of the fucking car kid or I'll carry you," I snaps at me.

That sort of sucks. If he carries me, he'll almost definitely feel the slashes on my back and knowing his current reaction, he'll probably yank my shirt off. Damn him. I want to scream at him. I really do. I want to shriek that it isn't any of his business and stomp away angrily. Only I can't effing stomp because of my stupid leg. I look at him and he raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir."

-

"Oh yes, definitely fractured," the doctor nods, looking at the X-ray. We've been sitting in the waiting room for an hour and a half and then they took an X-ray of my right leg which required me to lay on my torn up back. Joy. "And you've been walking on it?"

"Er…" I just give a sort of shrug.

"Yes, he has," Mr. Andrews says politely to the doctor. No cursing in here. He's like a completely different person. "Since Thursday of last week."

"That could've done damage," the doctor look at me with narrow eyes, "Why didn't you get checked before this?"

I just shrug again and keep my eyes on the ground.

"And Seaton, isn't it?" The doctor turned his beady eyes on Mr. Andrews. Seaton Andrews. Seaton fits him. I'll call him that instead –inside my head anyway. Out loud, it will always be 'sir'. I suppose Seaton must've nodded, "Well, you're a good neighbor for helping him out. We can get a cast on him and give him a pair of crutches, but he can't be walking long distances. School is probably the most activity he should have. We'll check it in eight weeks."

"Fine," Seaton nods.

I walk to school. That's so not going to work for me. And tomorrow is Wednesday, poker night. The mall, the bookstore, and any other place that'll have me. This is so inconvenient. Damn, why couldn't Alfred have broken my wrist?

-

Casts are uncomfortable. They don't hurt, but to have an extra thing on your leg is just a bit strange. By the time I get home Alfred's waiting on the couch, watching television, munching on popcorn, and practically chugging a bottle of beer. I close the door quietly behind me and when I get to the living room, he looking at me, eyeing my crutches and cast.

"I um… Mr. Andrews drug me to the hospital," I tell him as an explanation, "I tried to stop him, sir, but he wouldn't –"

"He pay?" Alfred grunts.

"Wha-? Er –yes, sir," I nod and he shrugs.

"Whatever," He then turns his eyes on the television and ignored me. I let out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding. Gosh, what was I expecting? Like he'd yell at me for something that trivial. Although a pizza box isn't that – no. Stop it.

I've really got to calm down.

-

The next morning I go over to the stairs and sort of stare down them, wondering how I'm supposed to get down them with my crutches like this. I brace the base of each crutch on the stair below me and swing myself down. That works, so I do it the rest of the way down three flights of stairs. When I reach the bottom, I take a deep breath and start to go across the parking lot.

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