The Citizen Soldier (DNF)

27) Too Little, Too Late

*George POV*

I had apparently fallen asleep, because the next time I woke up I was in the driver's side seat and I had five new texts on my phone, all from Clay.

Hi, sorry I had to leave you.
That doesn't mean I wanted to.
You were sleeping so well that I didn't want to wake you.
I have to go back to the hospital now :(
Text you when I can tho :D

I shook my head and smiled at the texts, he was funny even when he wasn't trying to be. The seriousness bled out of them at the introduction of the emoticons and almost made me forget about the disparity of the situation. He had to go back to the hospital, and he was sad about it. Was it because of me? Was it because of the hospital and the people there? I couldn't be sure without asking, and I couldn't ask without bothering him later on.

But he also said he'd text me when he could. Maybe I'd ask when that happened. It seemed like my best bet and my biggest guarantee of getting a reply. I swallowed down a particular fear that he might have seen my bandaged arm, but then he probably would have mentioned that in the texts, right? Or is that something you don't say over the phone?

I pressed my lips into a line and decided that I didn't want to think about it anymore, and I wanted to have the comfort of my friends by my side. I set off for the tire repair shop.

~~~

Once I got there and parked properly, I got out and locked my car. I wanted the comfort that my friends gave me, specifically Skeppy, but I didn't know his shifts in the slightest, so I went for the next best one that I could think of, Ammon.

"Oh, hi George! You doing okay?" He looked a little concerned, and I knew that his shift was just about over.

"I came to stop by, and talk or something. You know, I'll get to the real conversation when your shift ends, okay?" Ammon nodded without skipping a beat.

"Okay, I can handle that." He offered me a very warm smile and stared with his chocolate-brown eyes into my light caramel ones. For a little while that's all that we did, until he was distracted by the door opening and someone else coming inside to speak.

After about thirteen minutes, he clocked out and untied his apron, hanging it back up where it belonged. "So what did you want to talk about?" I looked around to see that we were still in the shop, and there were at least fifteen people there.

"Can we not talk about this," I shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of all those eyes. "At least not in public, or right now or something? Because I really don't want this many eyes on me here." I swallowed uncomfortably and Ammon took my hand to lead me to his car. Once we were inside, I allowed myself to start talking my thoughts out while he drove us to some park.

"So you're saying that a bunch of brats beat you up?"

"Yeah basically."

"And triggered a panic attack?"

I nodded in the affirmative.

"So they hurt you, ghosted, and left you to panic?"

"Do I need to repeat it so that you understand, pea brain?" I was starting to get annoyed.

"No, you don't, I was just making sure that I heard you right. So the name was Fundy? I think I've heard it somewhere before, I just can't place it..." After a minute he perked up. "Voicemail! The voicemail, that's where I heard it!"

"Voicemail...?" What in the world did I miss out on?

"Uh, I'll let Clay tell ya about it when he wants to. Anyway, so this Fundy beat you up and called you names and a slur?" I nodded, looking down at my now grimy clothes. They were so clean this morning, too. I frowned.