All the Wrong Reasons

Rough Night

Chapter 1:      

"Annabeth Genkins?"

Someone calling my name made me snap out of my doze. I lifted my head and peered about, the bright, fluorescent lights making me blink. The corridor seemed to be deserted, the person who had spoken out of sight. I stood up, unfolding my legs from where they had been curled under me, every muscle in my body screaming in protest, and rubbed my eyes. They felt like they were full of grit.

I peered around again, trying to work what I was doing there. I was not where I should have been, in the waiting room. I appeared to have fallen asleep in a chair in a corridor somewhere. I stretched, wincing as bones popped. I gingerly touched my left cheek and hissed. The swelling had done down a bit, but it was still painful. I looked around for the icepack I had been given and found it beneath the chair.

“Annabeth?” the voice called my name again.

 "I’m here," I called with some difficulty, pressing the cold bag to my face.

"There you are,” a stout woman came barrelling around the corner and stopped when she saw me. “This isn’t where you should be.”

The woman, a nurse judging by her uniform, sounded irritable. She looked tired and her mouth was pressed into a thin line. She was obviously anxious for a cigarette, a packet already clasped in her hand along with her lighter, and she was angry that hunting down lost teenagers was delaying her fag break. She glared at me as I straightened my clothes, eyeing my sequined top and high-heeled boots with distaste. She clearly believed me to be no better than I ought to be.

“Your mother is here,” she said curtly, before turning on her heel and stalking off, not caring if I followed or not.    

I almost sagged with relief. Finally I could leave! I had been stuck in this miserable hospital for the past three hours and I was prepared to take even my mother’s tragic looks and guilt-inducing sighs if I meant I could go home. Of course, once I got home, all hell would break loose, and I’d have to face the music. There was no way this little escapade would go unpunished, but I could probably put off the lectures and nagging until the next morning, especially if I played the “poor little me” card right.   

However, when I got there, it was not my mother who was waiting for me. My heart sank when I caught sight of the tall, blond woman who was waiting for me by the information desk, tapping her fingers on the polished wood. And I had thought this evening couldn’t get any worse.

“There you are, Annabeth,” Jennifer, my sister, pursed her lips and surveyed me from head to toe, managing to convey her disapproval without a single word. “They’ve been looking all over for you. I’m so sorry for all the bother she’s put you through.”

This last was addressed to the nurse, who softened a bit under Jennifer’s charm offensive. The nurse even gave Jennifer a small smile before she slunk off to have that cigarette.

I didn’t say anything, too tired and sore to think of a cutting reply, too tired to even glare at my sister for yet again implying I was an unruly child.

Jennifer crossed her arms and gave me a cold glance, obviously waiting for an explanation of my dreadful behaviour. She didn’t say she was pleased I was okay. She didn’t say it was a relief I was almost unscathed. She didn’t even ask me how I was before she started lecturing me. That was clearly not worth mentioning. Everything paled in significance with the heinous crime I had just committed. I had caused “an inconvenience”. Cue for the collective intake of breathe. 

 “Let’s just get going, shall we?” I muttered wearily, pulling on my coat and pulling it tight around me. Jennifer tossed her hair and opened her mouth, probably to say something sarcastic, but she thought better of it and shut it again. Even Jennifer had some qualms about kicking people who are so obviously down on the ground. She just spun on her heel and stalked out to the car park. I trailed along in her wake, feeling, as always when with Jennifer, sullen, fat, ugly and frumpy. Despite it being two in the morning and Jennifer presumably having been got out of bed to come and get me, she looked immaculate, her hair falling in a perfect curtain to her shoulders and her designer jeans hugging her figure to perfection.  I, on the other hand, looked like… well, like someone who had been in a car-crash actually, which was understandable. It didn’t make me feel any better about my laddered tights and blood- and dirt-stained camisole.