SHOUT - Adopted by Lin Manuel Miranda

PREDATOR

I'm waiting for the bell to end my daily death-by-Wilmington session when it hits me: maybe I don't have to go to the appointment at all.

I've gotten out of things like this before. In my Hope House days, we all took the subway to the nearest pharmacy to get flu shots. When it was my turn, I grabbed the needle from the pharmacist and threw it to the ground so hard, it broke in two pieces. The counselors had to reschedule for the rest of us to get our vaccinations, because the ground was unsanitary and that was the pharmacist's last sterilized needle. A plan. That's what I need. I could hop some random train and ride till the last stop. Doesn't matter where I end up, long as it's not the doctor's office. I could take a tour bus to JFK and catch the next flight to Pakistan. I'm thorouhly skilled in the art of hopping turnstiles. Hopping security gates can't be that much different. Or I could hitchhike over to Kansas, or take the subway to Hope House and beg for my room back, or plan B, swim to Antarctica, or, or, or—

"Vidya?"

I look up from my art worksheet. Ms. Larintino holds the phone to her ear. "The office called for you."

When I enter the main office, the secretary informs me that Lin called. He told her to tell me that he's picking me up from school on his way home from rehearsal to make sure I get back on time for my appointment.

Vanessa, Sebastian and I head out at 4:00. The two of them walk ahead of me hand in hand. Sebastian waves at each passing car. Maybe this won't be so bad. Maybe all this fear is useless, like some free-falling boulder that dissolves the moment before it flattens you. Vanessa swings Sebastian's hand back and forth when we cross the street. Jesus, what's wrong with me? Real Vidya never questions her intuition. What could it be, this time? The Vidyagirl in my conscience, yet again? The lost spirit from our Halloween séance messing around with me? Puberty?

We arrive at the doctor's office after fifteen minutes of walking and Sebastian waving at the street cars. The place is a three story brick building with blinds covering each of the windows. The moment we walk through the door, Sebastian dashes to the toybox while Vanessa checks us in. I crouch next to Sebastian and watch him rifle through the toys. The television mounted against the wall blares PBS kids. The only other people in the waiting room are a young mother and her newborn baby, and a teenage boy coughing into a mask he holds over his mouth.

Vanessa finishes checking us in and sits in the chair closest to the toybox. "He loves coming here," she tells me. She turns to watch Sebastian fiddle with a G.I. Joe action figure. "They have some fantastic toys."

"Fantastic," Sebastian repeats.

"Fantastic." Vanessa grins down at me. "Marvelous. Amazing. Very, very good."

Sebastian turns and says something to me. I don't respond. The oxygen has been vacuumed from my throat and the television is so god damned annoying and the nurse peeks her head out the door and calls our name and, and, and—

The nurse leads us to a white room with Sesame Street stickers plastered on the walls. No knives, no weapons. They must keep them hidden.

The moment she shuts the door, Sebastian climbs up onto the examination able and declares that he wants to go first. Fine by me. I sit in the corner chair and Vanessa leans against the table to re-strap Sebastian's Velcro sneakers. The nurse comes in ten minutes later to check Sebastian's vitals. She shines a light in his nose and ears, then checks his blood pressure. When it's my turn, I hop on the examination table and sit stiffly while she checks my vitals. This isn't what I was afraid of. I'm from the South Bronx, where police lights flash against the windows and Swiss army knives are carried in purses. This wouldn't be the first time I had lights shone in my face, or sharp things poking me in the most uncomfortable of places.