Scyde - Words

Chapter 9

We enter Tolkiens house. A group of people immediately come over to congratulate me on my touchdown. I love this attention. It's refreshing.

Once everything calms down, I find Tolkien in his kitchen. He slaps my back harder than necessary.

"Nice one, Clyde."

"Thanks dude. You got drinks?"

"You know it! But we just ran out of solo cups. There's more out back. Could you go get them?"

"Why me?"

"Because I'm trying to find Nicole and you're the only other person around who knows where things are."

"Fine. But I'm drinking all your beer later as payment."

"Sure. You earned it."

I go out his back door. There's a few people out here, but it's chilly so most people are staying inside.

Around the corner of his house there's a storage area. It's like an outdoor pantry for non-perishables that they didn't have room for inside.

I turn the corner and see a few shadows.

"Give it back! Pleath!"

"Ha! You always carry this around. What's it for anyway? Men aren't supposed to carry purses."

"I-it'th not a purth! It'th for my inthulin!"

"Your what?"

"Inthulin! Give it back now! I came out here becauth I need to do my thot!"

"HAHA! Did you hear that? It sounded like he said 'thot'" Dave laughs.

Another boy joins in. "As if he gets any bitches."

I see Scott jumping up, trying to get his bag back. Are they bullying him? At the celebration party?

Scott begins to shake, he slumps down. It looks like he can't jump anymore.

"Aw, what's wrong? You give up?"

"I need... my... shot..."

"So he can speak clearly."

I step into the lamp light. "Are you guys stupid?"

"What? We're just having fun."

I look down at Scott. He's looking up at me with a worried look. He's really scared I guess.

He falls to his knees.

"Oh shit... SHIT! That's his insulin bag! Are you guys trying to kill him?!"

I kick Dave in the shin and grab the bag. I hand it over to Scott and he takes out a syringe and a vial.

His hands are shaking. He can't do it.

"Damn it." I crouch down next to him and take what he was holding. "How much do I fill it?"

"This... line..." he points to a mark on the syringe.

I fill it up.

"Where do I inject it?"

He lifts up his shirt a little bit. "Pinch right here... and just... stab it into ... the fat."

"Does it matter how fast I inject it?"

"Not really."

I pinch a bit of his stomach and stab the needle in, using my thumb to push the injector.

I pull it out and sigh. That was tense.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so... thank you... Clyde."

"Not a problem." I help him back to his feet.

I turn and look around us. The boys aren't here anymore. I must've scared them off. I'll have a talk with coach on Monday about what happened here.