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Chapter 8: The Hospital

School is such a waste of time. Time that could be spent with other people, people who need the time more than x does. Y can go screw itself if it thinks I'm going to find it's X for it every time. Y had better grow a pair. Who does it think I am?

My phone buzzes from my bag, and I look around the classroom quickly to make sure the teacher isn't looking before I pull it out and check it. It's a text from my mom.

Hey sweetie, can you pick up some milk and bread from the grocery store on the way home? Thank you xoxo

Yay, another thing to do, another waste of precious time. Although, I suppose it has to be done by someone. I reply quickly with an 'ok' before shoving my phone back into my school bag and picking up my pencil.

I try to solve the equations, but my mind keeps drifting off to other lands. What else could I be doing right now? I could be reading a book, watching t.v, cooking food, eating food, going for a walk, there are so many possibilities. So why am I stuck here?

Math has never been my subject of favour. I've always been better at English, French, or even Science. Anything is better than math.

Apparently my phone didn't get the memo that I couldn't check it and continued to vibrate in my bag with dozens of notifications, each small movement causing a sharp look around the class to make sure the teacher couldn't tell it was mine. Unfortunately, after ten minutes of constant buzzing, I could see him begin to make his way across the classroom towards me. I sigh as his hand gets held out in front of my face.

"Sir, it wasn't mine. My phone is off." I try. I don't want my phone taken from me, but if this doesn't work the class is going to laugh at me.

"I'm sure it wasn't." He responds sarcastically. "However, I noticed you bend over earlier, and the flash of your screen following. I also noticed your head swing up every time the damn thing vibrated. Hand it over."

I groan and take the phone out of my bag, placing it nicely in his hand. He smiles in victory and returns to making his rounds through the classroom. I glance up at the clock, Only ten minutes left of class.

I attempt to solve as many equations as possible, with the hope of having no homework lingering in my thoughts. Homework is also a waste of time. Unfortunately, I need to pass. I've wanted to make honour roll for the last three years, but math has always been my reason for not making the list.

When the bell rings, everyone stands up and rushes to pack their bags to get to their next classes in time, myself included. After I finish packing, I walk to the front of the class where I'm greeted with my teachers sorrowful expression.

"I looked at your new text messages, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry." He mutters before handing me my phone. My eyes widen as I open my phone and read the texts, almost dropping the device.

"Shit." I say. I run to my truck outside and drive as quickly as I can to the hospital without getting a ticket. When I get there, I rush to the front desk.

"Charlotte Fletcher, please."

The lady at the desk looks up the name in her computer and tells me her room number. I bolt up the stairs and then knock quickly before entering the room. Helen stands inside, her fingers in her mouth, staring at the hospital bed that holds my mother.

"Where were you?!" She shrieks when she sees me standing in the doorway. "I texted you at least a dozen times, the least you could have done was check!"

"My teacher took my phone, I couldn't check it until after class ended. I came here as fast as I could. Is she going to be okay?" I ask.

Her eyes cloud over. "The doctor said that they're going to keep her here, because she's too active at home. They want to keep an eye on her."

"What happened?"

"She tried to stand up to get a glass of water, just before I got there. Her heart could hardly handle it, she collapsed."

I walk farther into the room, right next to the bed. My mom's eyes are closed, and her face is paler than I've ever seen it. There's an IV in her hand, keeping her hydrated while she rests.

"Is she going to be okay?" I ask.

"For now she's stable. The doctors aren't sure if her condition will stay that way though." Helen whispers. I nod, moving my mom's hair off of her forehead. She's dewy with sweat.

"We need to run some tests on her, would you mind leaving for about an hour or so, and then you can come back." A voice says from the door. I turn around and see a nurse standing there.

We walk out, and Helen sits down in one of the chairs.

"I'm going to go get some coffee from across the street, do you want any?" I ask her. She nods, and I leave the room before I can freak out. Once I see a washroom, I go inside and look at myself in the mirror. I'm a mess. My hair is in a knot on my head, my makeup is smudged from rubbing my eyes, and my eyes are more red than they were when I arrived at the hospital.

I take a few deep breaths, and try to fix my appearance. I'm going to break down eventually, but I'll be damned if I break down today. I walk to the Starbucks down the street and order our coffee's. I wait beside the counter, but someone taps my shoulder from behind.

"Kennedy?" I say upon spinning around.

"Hey. I wanted to know if you knew anyone named Pat- what happened to you?" She breaks off. Apparently I hadn't cleaned up as well as I had thought.

"Nothing, I'm fine. What'd you want to know?"

"Are you... nevermind. Do you know anyone named Patrick?"

"If you don't know him, then what could possess you to even consider the fact that I might know him?" I ask.

"Well do you?"

"What's his last name?"

"I didn't ask. But he's a bit taller than me, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a little bit tanned."

"I think I went to summer camp with him a couple of years ago, but it could be someone else. He goes to our school?"

"Yeah."

"Introduce us tomorrow. So I can make sure I'm thinking of the right guy. Why the sudden curiosity?"

"I met him earlier today. Only I call him Ricky, not Pat. I don't like Pat." She cringes.

"Okaaay..."

I pick up the drinks off the counter and then face Kennedy again.

"I have to go." I say.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She asks.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I'll see you at school, okay?"

And then I walk out the door and back up the hospital stairs and into the wing where I give Helen her drink and we wait for any information about what's happening.

And it's the worst feeling ever, being helpless.