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"DION RICHARDSON, PLEASE." LUCY REPEATED, insistent. Her nimble fingers brushed through the long, shiny waves of her hair in an almost unconscious manner. At the beat of silence on the other line, her brows furrowed. "Hello? Jeremy?"
There was another moment of nothing, and then, "unfortunately, Miss Richardson, he is currently unavailable."
"Unavailable?" A frown tugged on her lips. "His schedule should be clear right now, I don't understand."
"...He is currently with Dr. Nicolescu."
"Wh – are these the extra appointments I was informed about?" Lucy asked, leaning against the cold metal of her locker.
"Yes." Jeremy confirmed. "As per Dr. Nicolescu's professional request."
She nodded, reflecting on her prior phone call. "Yes, of course..."
"Do you have any more questions, Miss Richardson?" The nurse enquired, and dimly, she heard the clicking of a keyboard.
"Yes – how often a week are these sessions?" The words shot of her tongue immediately. "And for how long? Has his treatment plan been changed, or his medication?"
"I will send you his updated chart." He responded neutrally.
"Okay." Lucy let out. "Thank you."
"Have a good day, Miss Richardson."
"Wait! Can I –" The line clicked off before she could continue, and she slowly peeled the phone away from her ear. A heavy frown present, she stared at the device, equal parts disconcerted and bewildered. The unvoiced words of 'can I talk to the doctor?' hung thickly in her mouth.
Unsatisfied, the junior went to recall the centre, but before her finger even touched a number, she was being whisked away by a rapidly talking Imogen. The blonde girl, seemingly talking a mile a minute, dragged Lucy all the way to the cafeteria. Lunch had just begun, and students were bustling down the hallway loudly.
Imogen held no qualms about practically shouldering people out of her way to get to her usual table by the largest window in the room. Lucy, still frowning, stumbled along and didn't bother to utter out apologies. Every student at La Push High School was familiar with Imogen Arroyo, after all.
The blonde girl slumped down at the table, loudly sighing as she rummaged through her bag. "– a bitch, honestly, Luce. She wasn't even being fair, and grams told her – hey, are you listening?" Imogen peered closely at her; brow raised. "You're frowning."
"I am. I'm listening," She responded quickly, focusing back on the girl. Truthfully, she wasn't fully concentrating. Her mind was still firmly on her father, but Imogen didn't need to know that. "Sorry. Just got a lot on my mind."
