Trust

✍ Beat

"Poppy? Did Adam come home with you after school?" Mum tapped on my room door after she had spoken. It kind of defeated the purpose of knocking on the room door if one spoke or entered before doing so, but I decided not to mention that fact to mum at the moment.

"No. I thought he had football after school."

"He texted earlier. He said his coach cancelled training." Mum pursed her lips. She shuffled in her white slippers, mumbling something about irresponsibility. I watched her in confusion until she finally walked down the hall, presumably to her room.

Placing my favourite bookmark between the pages of the book I'd been reading, I picked up my phone from my bedside table. 

5 missed calls

My eyes widened. I'm hardly this popular, even on my birthday.

Checking the calls, I realized they were all from Adam.

Bewildered, I tapped at the photo of his face on my screen  and placed my phone against my ear. The line crackled to life after the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Oh thank God you called back."

I frowned. "You're not Adam."

"No I'm not," the person replied slowly. I paused.

"Chase?" I asked finally.

"The one and only."

I tried not to smile. "What are you doing with my brother's phone?"

"I need you to go to the hospital."

I shot up off my chair. "What?"

"Eric's driving us there now. Adam's in a pretty bad state."

I started pacing, running my hand through my hair repeatedly. "What happened? Is he alright? Can he talk to me? Where did you find him?" I kept talking, shooting questions without waiting for answers. 

"Poppy," Chase said. "Poppy. Poppy!" He had to shout the last time.

I stopped mid-word. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'll see you at the hospital. Adam's going to be alright. It looks like a couple of broken ribs and maybe a broken arm, but he's going to be okay." I'm sure Chase meant it to sound reassuring.

I resisted the urge to ask more questions. "Okay. Meet you there."

I hung up the call. For a moment, I didn't do anything. I was in shock. Then, I grabbed my bag, explained as much as I knew about the situation to my mother, and hopped into her car. Mum pulled out of the driveway so quickly that we almost clipped our letterbox. Then, she sped off down the street. 

*****

"Where is my son? I demand to see my son." Mum was towering over the hospital receptionist, screaming at him like it was the apocalypse.

I sat in the waiting room. The hospital was not a pleasant place. I never liked hospitals. There was always an undercurrent and faint scent of death in the corridors of this place.; it reminded me of wars and battles. The worst part was that these wars weren't always the literal ones with bombs and guns and blades. The people in this place were fighting- fighting with their sicknesses and infirmities and wounds. I wanted to believe that some of them were winning their battles against their ailments, but after reading John Green's The Fault in Our Stars, I realized how all and none of them were winning at all. They were at war with themselves- a civil war- and with a predetermined winner. 

It didn't help that Augustus died near the end of the book either.

"Poppy?"

I jumped up from my seat. Chase had entered the waiting room. The white shirt of his school uniform was stained red in places and I pointed it out to him. He looked surprised before looking down at his clothes.