Watch Your Temper

Chapter Eighteen: A New Acquaintance

        "Can you pass me that magazine?"

"Um...why?"

"So I can ball it up and eat it, idiot! I want to read it," I said sarcastically.

George stared at me and shook his head, slowly handing me the celebrity gossip magazine. This stupid head injury had kept me from keeping up with the 411 in Hollywood, so I had a bit of reading to do.

"Would you stop touching those tubes? Your mom asked me to keep an eye on you while you left. I don't think she'd be very impressed if she came back to see you unconscious again," he warned, snatching one of the annoying things from my grasp.

"I was just fiddling with it! I'm bored out of my mind, okay? And you're being too protective," I complained, turning my head to look as the door swung open.

"Well, kids, we've got some good news! Temper, how are you feeling?" Dr. Mason asked, walking into the room with large, brisk strides.

"I'm fine, doctor," I informed him.

"Well, that's wonderful. We have the results back from your MRI earlier, and it looks like you're good to go! Minimal damage to the brain-- in fact, thank goodness for your skull, or your brain would've suffered a lot more. The helmet took some of the blow before it fell off, and while the skin around your skull is bruised, as there's still some bleeding going on, you're fit as a fiddle otherwise."

"Great... so do I get to go home now?" I asked impatiently, trying to keep my hopes from rising.

"I'd say yes. After a few hours of necessary paper work and discharging activities, we'll re-bandage your head a final time, and you'll be free," he declared, flipping through the papers on his ever-present clip board.

I was about to reply, when a nurse popped into the room.

"Dr. Mason, Mrs. Parkinson in Room 345 has just gone into cardiac arrest."

"Temper, stay in bed and drink lots of fluids. I'll be back in a while to check up with you again," he assured me, before rushing out down the hall.

"Hmm... what to do, what to do?" I muttered, shifting my position in the warm bed. I had suddenly gotten bored of the idea of reading about Kim Kardashian, now that my liberty was fast approaching.

"Well, I have to go to the washroom. I'm sure your mom should be back with your food soon, so stay put," George commanded me, and I nodded.

Of course, as soon as he left the room, I jumped out of the bed.

Stay put, my ass.

+++

        Like a snake, I carefully snuck out of the room, crawling around the corner and coming to a stop at the next door I came across. I was planning on making a bee-line for the vending machine down by the caf, and--

"What are you doing at my nonna's door?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I whirled around, coming face-to-face with a tall, tan boy.

"Um...." I muttered, struggling to come up with an excuse.

His dark hair was brushed carelessly to the side, a few loose strands hanging down over his chiseled face. He had an odd smirk on his face. He was extraordinarily tall, and was sporting long jeans and a t-shirt, despite the scorching weather outside.

The boy laughed, pulling me out of the trance I was in.

"It's fine. You look... a little worse for wear. Shouldn't you be in bed?"