The Class Reject: A Martyr in Maelstrom (Book III)

84

The next few days were normal enough. No run ins with a certain headmaster. Ms. Cowdry offered to have class outside and gave them ice cream, which would have been the best thing ever, except there was still no word from Jeno. Ironically, Penelope had texted her at least ten times the other day, indicating how bored she was and how eager to see Miles again. Which could only mean one thing:

Miren was either screwed or fucked.

Naturally, she thought of calling Wallace, but that meant neglecting why they had a fallout in the first place. She'd risk failing some type of reverse-pseudo Bechdel test with him, not that she wanted to talk about Jeno anyway. But she would. And then she'd lose Wallace all over again.

Sleeping in Jeno's bed wasn't a healthy move by a long shot, especially since his scent was already beginning to leave his sheets, which was just a sad reminder that he was gone. Maybe he'd come back before graduation, but he wouldn't. She texted Jemma and was met with cellular silence, which had to be the final confirmation that it was unofficially official that they weren't friends anymore.

So Miren carried about her Wednesday, and was in the middle of orchestra when her phone started to vibrate. Mr. Gales had a strict no phone policy during class, but because Headmaster Edsel was now, to put it kindly, officially her bitch, she all but dropped her bow and viola to answer it. Her heart swelled with a type of nervous energy that immediately dissipated to her bones and brain, making her weak and exhilarated. At least, until she saw who the first text was from. Artemis.

Artemis El-Amin: Hi Miles. I'm sorry about how neurotic and selfish I was acting before. We don't have to meet up or even talk any further if you hate me, but I just wanted to apologize. I hope we can become friends this upcoming year. You should run for a student council in the fall! If I don't run into you before the end of the semester, have a great summer. Please feel free to reach out if you want to hang out.

Stay gold, Miles.

"Start over!" Mr. Gales then said from the front of the stage with a dramatic huff. "And put your damn phone away, Miles. If the orchestra fucks up at the graduation ceremony, I'm personally holding you accountable." There were some snickers at his use of profanity. If Miren gave a fuck about anything anymore her cheeks would have heated up in embarrassment.

"Won't happen again," she said instead, slipping the phone back in her pocket. But perhaps it was because of this new information, and the inability to know what to do with it, that her legs were as restless as her mind and she rose to her feet. "Actually, do you mind if I go to the restroom? I'll be right back."

She wasn't coming back.

***

Going to the hospital was a trap, she knew it.

Either Artemis was going to be there, or Penelope was already onto her, courtesy of her last visit. Nevertheless, Miren entered the hospital lobby with more confidence than the situation called. With her body on autopilot, she effortlessly acquired her visitor pass and was on the elevator and ICU floor before she could come to her senses and flee.

Beeping of numerous medical devices and shuffling feet took the air, and Miren forced herself to feel at ease, as she stopped by the nursing station to check the large monitor for patients and their associated room. Because of HIPAA, only Chara and Penelope's initials were on the screen. But for some reason, she couldn't see C.T.--Chara Tachibana. She was just about to spin around on her heels when she heard it--

"I can't believe one of the girls from the car accident died today," the middle-aged nurse said as she typed on a portable computer. "I heard the two girls were dating. It's so sad. I'll have to hug my kids even harder when my shift is over. This world is so cruel."

Running. All she knew was running, as she crossed the hallway, to the area that led to where Chara's room was the other day. Maybe she was imagining things; her mind wasn't well and her imagination was molded to be morbid.

But when she stopped at the room Chara lay just a few days ago, the bed was empty; the room was empty. Devoid and clean as if to welcome a new patient--a new victim. A scream of distress caught in Miren's throat, coming out as a loud grumble, alerting one of the nursing staff.

"Are you okay, young man?" the young nurse said, patting her shoulder. "Are you lost? Were you looking for Ms. Tachibana?" The woman probably said more, but Miren couldn't hear her--she couldn't hear anything.

And words couldn't come out either, just the tears that she swore she had run out of. Instead, she just shook her head, and started running again, this time to Penelope's room.

The white door was closed, but through the glass window adjacent to it was a small team of doctors and the entire Van Helsing family. It was hard to make out Penelope, especially with the dim lighting, but she was in bed. Eavesdropping was a shitty thing to do, but the moment was shitty, and devastation had paralyzed her.

"Excuse us, young man," a member of the hospital staff, a nurse maybe, said as he and another woman pulled a stretcher toward the door, "we need to get into the room."

"Of course," Miren said in a hush, somehow willing her body to move, her eyes, however, steady on the glass. "Do you know what's going on?"

"Sorry, I'm not at liberty to say. HIPAA," he replied almost jokingly, like it was a grade school secret. "Have a great day."

But in the second the door widened, she saw everything she needed to see, and never could have hoped to want to see in her life. Penelope's lips were blue, her skin was pale, her body ridgid. Her eyes closed, although not completely, as if to look at Miren one final time, at least until the door was promptly shut.

And then there was nothing. She didn't know how much time had passed when the team of doctors exited the room, saying words like "spontaneous brain hemorrhage" and "sudden death", or when they rolled the box-like stretcher that definitely contained Penelope's lifeless body inconspicuously down the hallway, the shock and calamity of the situation effectively turning Miren into a ghost to the Van Helsings, who passed her in a devastated daze, probably for the hospital morgue. With no other options, she stood there until her phone vibrated. Jemma.

Jemma: Hey, let me know if you want to check on Chara and Penelope together today. We should talk. I'm not mad at you, just mad in general.

And just like that, reality was a brick shattering her glass mind.

She thought of texting back with a simple, 'Penelope's dead and Chara might be too' but this wasn't her news to tell--this wasn't something she wanted to tell, period. Miren stretched her jaw before wiping her eyes, her feet finding movement. She had made it to the elevator when she realized what the nurse by Chara's room had said:

"Ms. Tachibana is still in a coma, but is stable and was transferred to another hospital. Sorry you came all this way for nothing."

She squeezed her phone in her hand as she left the main lobby. Rays of sun stretched out through the sliding glass doors of the main entrance of the hospital and a soft summer-like breeze welcomed her as she escaped everything except the blinding light of reality. It was Wednesday, June 11th.

Penelope Van Helsing was dead.