Dr. Pritchard handed Blake his medical form, and remembered that she had forgotten something in the cast room. She quietly entered the room, and returned with a black sling with white stitching for Blake to use to support his arm while it healed.
“You’ll need to hand this in at the main desk, and then check yourself out so that you’re officially no longer under our supervision. Remember, if ever your head hurts enough to make you want to take pain killers, you should come back right away to have us take a second look at it.”
“Thank you very much Dr. Pritchard,” said Blake.
Blake took his cell phone out of his pocket, and the necklace fell out onto the ground. Reaching down to pick it up, a cold wave seemed to pass between his hand and the bead, and the image of him passing through the subway train flickered through his mind. Shaking his head, he picked up the cold metal and shoved it back into his pocket before flipping open his phone to find out the time. It was nearly nine, and Blake decided that it wasn’t worth going to school late after his exhilarating morning.
He handed his medical report to the secretary, who filed it and disappeared into the back room. She produced a bottle of pain killers when she came back, and handed them to Blake with another instructional paper.
“Don’t take more than on every twelve hours, and don’t take other medication while you’re on these. If pain continues while taking them, stop taking them and come back as soon as you can. And try to take it easy,” she said sweetly as though it was the first interesting thing that had happened all morning.
“Thank you, I’ll try not to get pushed in front of anymore trains for a little while,” he said with a warm laugh.
Blake took the stairs down towards the hospitals main entrance, and then looked around for the nearest bus booth that would take him back home. He noticed a bus booth with ‘three fifteen’ written on it, and was relieved to know that the bus was only at the end of the parking lot and not a few blocks away.
He entered the bus booth and sat down on the cold plastic bench as he waited for the bus to show up. His cell phone rang on silent and vibrated in his pocket, and he flipped it open and pressed it to his ear.
“Blake! Where are you? Mrs. Rita’s going to kill you if you miss another French class!”
“Oh, hey Alana. Listen, I’ve been at the hospital all morning. Let her know that?”
“Oh my god, what happened? Are you okay?” she asked frantically.
“It’s quite a long story, but don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m on my way home now so I won’t be at school until tomorrow.”
“Don’t scare me like that Blake! I can’t believe you, what happened?”
“It’s nothing, believe me Alana. Listen, my bus is here, and you’re probably already late for class, I’ve got to go.”
“Alright, but you’re not stopping me and Dane from coming over to see you tonight!”
“Fine. Try not to spread rumors?” asked Blake hoping that she would listen.
“Damn, fine. Okay. I’ll see you tonight!” said Alana before hanging up.
The bus passed by, and Blake hopped on, finding that there was only one other person besides the bus driver and himself on the bus. Taking his usual spot near the back, he sat down comfortably as he waited for the thirty minute drive to be over. He could feel his arm throbbing in the cast, and wished for the effects of the pain killers to kick in quickly before the pain got worse.
He saw the street sign of his apartment buildings flash by through the window, and pulled the chord signaling the bus driver to let him off at the next stop. He hopped off the bus, and held his arms closer to his body as a cold wind brushed past him. It was only the beginning of fall, but it was still getting cold, fast.
He jogged the rest of the way to his apartment, and took the elevator up to the second floor as a headache appeared. Cursing himself for not taking it easy like he said he would, he lay down on the black couch he had in the living room and just took a moment to think over his “exciting” morning. Blake thought about the necklace, and pulled it out of the pocket, rolling the oddly designed bead between his forefinger and his thumb.
The bead was an oval shape, and maybe an inch or so long. The designs looked almost Celtic, but they had an almost fire-like touch to them, flicking out like the tails of flames. Depending on the way he turned it, the bead’s designs would shine blue in the light that shone through the bigger window in the apartment.
It suddenly got really cold, and he dropped it onto the ground, where the cord got tangled up even more. Rolling over onto his right side, Blake picked it up, and lay back down on his back. He couldn’t remember anyone ever wearing it, even his ex-girlfriend who wore a lot of weird, “exotic” jewelry. Fiddling with the cord, he managed to untangle it, and held it by the ends as he let it hang in front of him. He felt an urge to put it on, as though something was telling him, forcing him to do it.
With difficulty, he placed it around his neck, using his right arm to hold it down as he worked fitfully with the clasp and tied it together. It was a perfect fit, it hung just under his Adam’s apple where the concave part of his neck was. It was colder than he thought it was, and he gasped unexpectedly. Several images flew across his mind; the subway train, him getting the molding on his arm done, him breaking his leg six years ago, and then finally an image of his best friend Alana, trapped under her motorcycle. Jumping upright, Blake coughed heavily and steadied himself on the arm rest of the couch.
“What the hell…” he whispered to himself in confusion.
He let his head fall into his hands, and then walked into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. Taking out the pill bottle he had received at the hospital, he popped off the child proof cap and swallowed one of the pills with the glass of water. Even though he felt like taking another one to speed up the process, he didn’t feel like making another trip to the hospital.
Blake thought back to the person who pushed him on the tracks in the first place, and scowled for not being able to remember much about him. The man was wearing a light grey sweatshirt with the hood up, and he had a deep voice with a southern twang to it. Disappointed that he couldn’t let the police know about him, he sat back down on the couch and turned on the television in hopes to pass the time.
He fell asleep while watching a re-run of a show he could care less about, and fidgeted around, not able to find a comfortable position that wouldn’t be dangerous for his head. He could see Alana trapped under her red motorcycle again, but could see a truck turned over onto its side on the opposite side of the street, and more cars piled up on top of each other. Trying to push the image out of his head for a strong want of a good sleep, he gave up and just let himself wake up. The television was now showing the evening news, warning everyone that winds were picking up and to be careful outdoors.
The house phone started ringing, and Blake slowly got to his feet and walked into the kitchen, messing up his hair with his good hand before answering the phone. Checking the caller ID, Blake didn’t recognize the number, and decided to answer it anyway.
“Hi, my name is Anita Sherwood and I’m part of the health statistics for your community. We’re conducting a survey to insure that are statistics are still up to date. Are you the person that regularly does the groceries in your household?”
Blake frowned in response, and opened his mouth to politely turn her down when the phone beeped, indicating someone on the other line.
“I’m terribly sorry Ms. Sherwood, but I have somebody on the other line,” replied Blake, as he changed lines.
“Hey Blake! Turns out Dane can’t come after all. He’s grounded from breaking curfew again, so it’s only me who’s going to come over. How’re you feeling?”
“Well, the doctor gave me morphine, so there’s no pain, but I still feel like utter crap.”
“Have you slept at all? You sound like you’ve been up for the last forty-eight hours straight.”
“Yeah, I just woke up a few minutes ago to be honest. How much longer until you get here?”
“I’m turning down Ashwood now, so I guess five minutes? And wow, have you heard this wind man? It’s completely insane. People are being swept off their feet and pushed around.”
“Yeah, I heard something about that on the news. Be careful alright?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a laugh. “I’m pulling onto your street now. See you soon!”
As Blake put the phone back on the cradle, he tried to make the place seem clean in the few minutes he had before Alana showed up. The wind howled from outside as it bounced off the glass of his window, making him realize that Alana wasn’t exaggerating when she said people were being blown about.
Rushing to the door, Blake opened it and stepped aside as Alana came in. She placed her helmet beside the doormat, and shook her long fiery red hair out of the ponytail she had it tied in. She was wearing a fitted leather jacket and a pair of dark blue skinny jeans that covered the top of her two inch heel boots. As she smiled and gave him a hug, she noticed the cast on his arm and looked at him with slight uncertainty.
“I thought you said it was nothing horrible?” she said, lifting up his arm.
Blake laughed, and turned around to show her the back of his skull. His light brown hair was stained red because he hadn’t been allowed to wash it yet, and it was all matted down from the glue that was still stuck there.
“Oh my god!” she cried out loud, giving him a hug from behind. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Slow down Alana, you’re not even off my doormat yet and you’re already interrogating me,” said Blake with a laugh.
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