ASUNDER (I) : tmr newt

37: I'm Recalling

37 Leo

"Is that guy still here?" Jeff calls in the room.

I wrap my hand around the cool glass bottle, turning as I look at the clear liquid inside. Nothing here has labels, and I can't tell if this is adrenaline or an analgesic. I pick up the other in my hands, staring at the different options. Does adrenaline have the red lid? Or is it grey? I always forget.

"You know, you really should label these," I can't keep forgetting this. I definitely don't want to give another person adrenaline by accident. Once was enough for my whole life.

Jeff reaches over my shoulder, past me, to the bottle with the black lid.

"Black for analgesic," he begins, "red for adrenaline."

"What's grey then?" I demand.

He scrunches his nose up at me, before sighing. "Clint?"

There is silence that trails after his words and out the door. Clint's with the Runner. I don't know his name; it's not often I have occasion to actually see them since they come home so late. The Runner only has a sprained ankle, so he should've been done twenty minutes ago. I can't imagine those two talking. Clint is quite the character, and while the Runner seems nice, he feels distant.

When there is no response, Jeff turns back to me. He mocks annoyance, but I can tell he is just excited he gets to talk.

"Right, so grey is for penicillin," Jeff begins. "Think of grey being dull, and we don't use penicillin all that much. I've used it once, and Clint twice. Every time it's some kid in the blood house who cuts his shucking hand open, and then ignores it and gets raw meat in his hand. It's not just the Builders who are idiots, I hope you know. It's everybody."

"And red for adrenaline, and black for the analgesic?" I prompt further.

"Black for pain, because that's what you use analgesic to cure. Red for the colour adrenaline makes you see." He takes the bottle with the red lid and puts it back on the shelf. "Or, after, if you don't know the difference between adrenaline and analgesic."

I do feel really bad about that, but Jeff pats me on the shoulder in solidarity when I look down.

"Rookie mistake, don't worry-"

"Jeff!"

Clint's voice echoes from the hall.

"What?" Jeff shouts back, turning towards the door.

The air is thin, as sound fails to travel through it.

"I don't know, you called me."

Jeff rolls his eyes, but a goofy smile plasters itself on his cheeks. "Yeah, nevermind."

Those two will be the death of me. Calling to each other through the Homestead late at night is the beginning of their shenanigans. They are always playfully bickering, and threatening to put the other in a bed in the med room. If I didn't know they were joking, I would've lost my mind by now.

There is only one thing I could ever hope for. One day, I wish for the four of us girls to be as tight knit as Clint and Jeff. I long for the night where we sit around a campfire, and someone shoves someone else over, and we all laugh. I'm not a worried stickler for no reason. The only thing that keeps the four of us from clawing at each other's throats are the rules that prevent us from doing so.

Michelle still blames me for her near banishment, Dawn is mad at me for telling her to break it off with Minho, and Ella has been avoiding us all since she had her first seizure. I'm supposed to be a leader, but I can't hold them all together.