Familiar Faces [a donnie darko fanfic]

Chapter Twelve

The cafeteria workers gave Dylan and I sympathetic looks after we told them who we were there for. They also gave us accommodation with the food. Once we reached the register where we should've paid, we told the woman our ordeal.

"Yes I've been informed about that," she said in a sad, quiet voice. "Your dinners are free, don't worry."

We thanked her before branching off to find a table to sit at. I almost felt bad for having the free food, although it was a set arrangement. I had some spare change and a couple of dollars at my house from the last babysitting job I did, but normally our mom would pay for food if we went out.

I went to pick up some lettuce from my chicken salad, but my hand shook the fork too much. I sighed, trying again. My nerves were still quite frigid and I could see it in Dylan's face that he was too.

We ate in a tense, stressing silence. The pace of our consumption was speedy, probably because we were both worrying if the woman at the desk would have news while we were away.

Dylan and I finished around the same time, but I grabbed his trash for him. "Thanks," he mumbled. At the moment, our voices still sounded nasally from the crying that congested our noses.

The lights of the hallway were bright and obnoxious; almost paining me to look up. A few of the lights were flickering, making it look like an eerie scene from a slasher movie. The walls were baby blue and well maintained.

"April, we have to hope for the best. If we don't have hope, then what else do we have?" Dylan asked abruptly, halting my train of thought.

"You are wise beyonds your years, man," I told him. I couldn't help but wonder what we'd do if our mom didn't make it. Someone would probably try to get a close relative to take care of us and leave a foster home as a last resort. I had 2 years at most until I was 18, so moving around a foster system would really be no point and I could just take care of Dylan. My thoughts jumped around to job and the possibility of not going to a good college. I felt ashamed that my thoughts were so selfish, but things would have to be that way if our mom passed. She would be leaving us on our own, to grow up without both parents. I felt lost already and we still didn't know for sure yet. There was a whirl of emotions running inside me as I tried to remain calm.

I clenched my fists as Dylan and I walked through the double doors and back to the waiting room. I continued stressing as we sat back down. The clock on the wall read 5:30. After letting out an impatient sigh, I stretched back out at my seat. There was now a couple of people across the waiting room; looking worried and distraught. I felt almost as though I was staring into a mirror.

Next to us, there was a stack of mad libs that we decided to fill out. We needed something to pass the time and preoccupy our minds. Since leaving school, I hadn't thought much about it and if I'd be going back.

The double doors that had led us to the cafeteria nearly an hour ago at that point swung open. "The Heplers?" a doctor in a white coat asked, clutching a clipboard. I felt my stomach turn over and I hoped my dinner would stay down. This was probably it. This was the news.

My hands shook and my breathing became labored. Dylan was shaking too; he reached out to grab my hand nervously. We approached the doctor, desperately hoping to hear good news.

He smiled at us. It was a hard to read smile; it could've been sympathetic or the smile of someone who bared good news.

"She made it through surgery," he informed us. "The bullet damaged a few layers of tissue and part of the skull. It ricocheted into some blood vessels, so she lost a lot of blood but she made it. There has been some trauma, though. She's awake surprisingly, but she hasn't said anything yet. You can see her, please just don't bombard her with questions. There's a possibility she won't understand at first."