SIX WEEKS LATER
Sam
Waiting in a row of plastic chairs has become almost a running gag for me and Rose at this point; especially when one of us is an anxious wreck and the other has to calm them down.
This time, the plastic chairs are a soft gray, and Rose is the one who needs calming down.
"Hey," I tell her, squeezing her trembling hand lightly. Her hand is also fairly sweaty, but I don't care. "It will be okay. I promise."
Even as she trembles, Rose lets out a snort at that. "As if those promises of yours have ever worked," she reminds me, but there is no malice in her voice. She means it not as an insult towards me, but more as a reminder.
I nod in understanding, and just squeeze her hand one more time before letting go, allowing her to resume tapping her fingers restlessly on her legs.
On my other side, Mom's expression is unreadable. She mainly stares towards the office doors down the hallway behind the check-in counter, every now and then sparing Rose and I a glance before looking away if she sees that we are glancing at her also.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
DANNY BOY <3: So what's the verdict???
ME: We're still waiting :(
DANNY BOY <3: Damn! What's the hold up? Do I need to go down there?
I let out a low chuckle as I type out my response, No babe. I'm sure we'll be called in soon. Now put your phone away before you get in trouble!
DANNY BOY <3: How can I pay attention in math when my favorite idiot isn't here to bother me? :(((
ME: Lol sorry. Should be back before long tho. I don't think this'll take more than 30 minutes.
DANNY BOY <3: Good. How's your chest?
ME: *eye rolling emoji* Still hurts whenever I think about it, thanks for asking.
DANNY BOY <3: Whoops, sorry.
About a week after the spring dance, when my chest still hurt like a motherfucker, I finally asked Mom to take me to the ER. Turns out, I had a cracked rib from all the pressure on my bound up chest that night. When I admitted to the doctor (with my mom in the room) that I had been using an ace bandage to bind my chest, she told me I was lucky the rib wasn't broken.
Luckily, the fracture will heal on its own....in about two months. Needless to say, I haven't bound my chest since.
Like I told Dan, it really only hurts when I think about it too much at this point, which is why I really wish we would get called in already so that I have something else to focus on.
As if on cue, the familiar bearded face and lean figure of Dr. Porter comes into the waiting room. "Wyatt family?" He announces when he sees us, but it isn't a question. All three of us have known him for going on five weeks now.
Mom is the first to stand up. "Thanks for squeezing us in today," she tells him. "I had to pull the twins out of school, but I know this is important."
"That it is," he says with a smile, then looks at me and winks.
I smile back at him. Though Dr. Porter is our family therapist here at Meadows Mental Health Center, he is also my individual therapist. Rosie has a different one, some lady named Dr. Kline. I was told they try to give siblings different therapists to prevent any possible bias, which I guess I understand
YOU ARE READING
Flipped
Teen FictionEveryone knows the Wyatt twins as Samantha and George, but only the two of them know each other for who they really are: Sam and Rose. The twins have always known that their genders are flipped, and they know how important it is to keep this fact a...
