It's Definitely Weird

Five: Grace

"Puberty, you have completely screwed me up." 

Grace's Point of View: 

        Twenty minutes after that awkward situation with Nurse Emma, a doctor came in. He had a clipboard in his hand and his glasses in another. Right behind him, was a furious-looking Emma. 

        He looked at me and smiled kindly, "Hello, I'm Dr. Ross. Are you Lucas Evans?" 

        I shook my head. Who was this 'Lucas' everyone keeps talking about? For the last time: I'm Grace! Not Lucas, whoever he is. 

        Dr. Ross frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but Emma interrupted him, "Lucas doesn't have his memory back, yet. He thinks his name is 'Grace.'" 

        I mentally groaned. Not this again. 

. . .

Two weeks later. 

        "Okay, you're doing great, Luke" Nurse Mia said, with a smile. This was the fifth time I had tried walking-- with help from her-- around the hospital room. It was part of the physical therapy since I haven't moved my legs the whole time that I was in a coma.  Yes, the name 'Lucas' had stuck on. As much as I tried explaining that I wasn't 'Lucas,' no one believed me. I currently doubted if my name actually was 'Grace' after all. 

        She was about nineteen-years old; Mia was studying at a university but helped out at the hospital as a physical therapy nurse. 

        "Alright, I think that's good," she said, "you'll be able to walk on your own in no time." 

        I grinned; being in bed for two weeks was absolutely boring. I wasn't able to get up or even go to the bathroom. I was still using the... tube. 

        I suddenly had a tingling feeling in my bladder; I looked down at her— yes, down. Apparently, I was now six-feet tall. Before the coma, I was 5'3... incredibly weird, I know—, and sheepishly asked, “Do you think I could go to the bathroom now?"

        "I believe so," she explained, and I sighed in relief, "You have been doing well in your therapy. Do you think you could walk to the bathroom by yourself?"

        I nodded; the pain of moving my legs wasn't very much. I walked slowly to bathroom, inside the room. I awkwardly closed the door, leaving Mia outside.

        The hospital bathroom wasn't that big, and it smelled like the rest of the hospital: like disinfectant. There was a toilet, shower, and a mirror.

        I looked in the mirror, first. Staring right at me was a boy with black hair and green eyes. My eyes widened... and his did too. A boy? What the heck? Why is there a boy in the bathroom with me? 

        I opened my mouth to scream, but I noticed that the boy was doing the same actions as I was. I reached my hand up to touch my hair but found that it was short-- like a boy's. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. W-was that me? Oh God, no. No. No. No. 

        There’s only one way to make sure. 

        I lifted my light blue hospital pants and screamed.  

        "Luke, are you okay?" Mia asked frantically, and knocked on the door from outside.

        No! No! I was not okay! Why? Why do I have a... boy's... 'stick'? 'Little guy'? Whatever you want to call it. 

        "Luke?" 

        "Yeah...?" I asked breathlessly, sliding down the cold bathroom door. It all made sense now... well, more or less. 

        "Luke, are you alright?" She asked, and knocked once more. I had become this 'Lucas' person, whoever he was. If I was him, then who was me?

        "T-the mirror," I replied.

        She sighed, and explained, "It's just puberty, and it’ll pass."  If only you knew, Mia. If only you knew. 

      If it truly was 'puberty'— which I'm pretty sure, it wasn't— then, puberty, you have completely screwed me up.

Yes, it may or not be Mia from "Traveling with Love"

(Not edited.) 

© 2014 Just_Another_Name