Chapter 16: Chapter 15. I’m Helping a Needy

CLAIRE

The school was buzzing with chatter about White Wolf. Everyone was curious, shocked even, about White Wolf getting stabbed. Only Blake knew the truth about whether I survived or not.

And I did survive. But they’d all find out for sure when spring arrived. For now, I needed to keep a low profile. I also had to ask Nancy about Selena. I knew she was still alive. My punch wasn’t lethal. Even I knew that.

But all morning, this stitch was bothering me. My stomach kept clenching in pain, and even when I was still, the pain just kept getting worse.

By fifth period, the pain was nearly unbearable. I wanted to call home, but I knew Mom was at work and Dad was likely drunk. Him driving was not a good idea.

Maybe I could call Nancy. Ask her who did the stitching because they did a terrible job.

I thought once you got stitched up, it wouldn’t hurt unless you did something to reopen the wound.

So, when I walked into sixth period, History, with Mrs. Woods, I was relieved. She was always one of my favorite teachers.

She was in her late thirties, married, with three kids. She was kind and had long, black hair with light blue eyes speckled with gold.

Another wave of pain surged through my stab wound. I clenched my eyes shut and squeezed my books.

To anyone else, it would look like I was having really bad stomach cramps, which in a way, I was, but not for the reasons they might think.

I approached Mrs. Woods’s desk and smiled at her, doing my best to hide the pain that clenched my stomach every few seconds.

“Hi, um, can I please go to the nurse’s office? I really don’t feel good,” I asked her, my eyes pleading with her to let me go.

Mrs. Woods, being a mother of three, understood that a child’s needs come first—depending on what they want—so naturally, she was concerned about my health and wanted me to get help as soon as possible.

Her eyes shifted from serious to narrowed, concerned, and worried in a matter of seconds. “Of course, Claire. I hope you feel better soon,” she replied, gesturing towards the door.

I smiled gratefully at her before heading to the nurse’s office.

Mrs. Evans was the school nurse. She was also very kind and in her late twenties. She had light blonde hair and sparkling, diamond blue eyes. She was engaged, so her last name would change soon.

“Hello, Hun. What brings you here?” She asked, once I sat down on the long, dark red bed for resting.

“My stomach really hurts, and I was wondering if I could call home.” I told her the truth. Well, most of the truth. My stomach did hurt really bad, but she didn’t need to know exactly why.

Her kind eyes narrowed with concern. “Oh. Do you know why?” she asked, pulling on some white gloves and getting the thermometer out.

Nurses always checked your temperature when you felt sick. I don’t know why, but they just always did.

I bit my lip, trying to think of what I should say. “No.” I finally replied, knowing that it was really the stitched wound causing the pain.

“Oh.” She nodded, handing me the thermometer. “Put it underneath your tongue and wait for the beep.” She instructed.

I did as told and waited for it to beep. I always hated having to put thermometers underneath my tongue; it just felt awkward.

When it beeped, she gently took it out of my mouth and discarded the top of it, replacing it with a new one for the next use.

“98.8°F,” she read from the thermometer. “Well, you don’t have a fever,” she mumbled to herself. “Alright, where does it hurt?” she asked.

I pointed to the stitched wound above my belly button. She nodded and wheeled her chair over to me.

I became slightly nervous about what she was going to do next.

Without warning, she gently pressed her gloved hand to the part above my belly button where I pointed. I jerked back as a hiss escaped my lips. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them back.

~Damn that hurt!~

Mrs. Evans immediately pulled her hand away and looked at me with apologetic eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Hun. Um, I think you may want to go to the doctor to get that checked out. It could be serious,” Mrs. Evans said, removing her gloves and tossing them in the bin.

I gave a slight nod as I slowly got up. The pain in my stomach extended from the wound to somewhere above my ribs now.

I quickly walked to the phone and dialed Nancy’s cell. She picked up on the third ring.

“Claire. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, already alarmed.

Before I could reply, a sharp pain stung in my stomach again, this time worse. A groan escaped my lips.

“Claire! What’s going on? Do you want me to come get you?” She asked, worry and fear evident in her voice.

“Yes, please,” I managed to choke out.

“Alright. I’m on my way now.” She said, before hanging up.

I put the phone away and turned to face Mrs. Evans. “My aunt is coming for me,” I told her.

She nodded. “Alright. You can go and get your things. I’ll tell your teachers. But, take it easy,” she told me seriously.

I nodded and started to, slowly, make my way to the door.

Once I got out there, I was limping to my locker. My books were still in my hands, and I started to get really worried about the inevitable.

What if it was something really bad and severe? What if I hurt myself without even knowing it? What if I could never box or fight again?

The thought of never being able to fight again sent my stomach into nervous flips, and not because of the stab wound.

I always hated going to the doctors because I didn’t want to be told that something was wrong with me and not be able to box anymore. I was born to fight. I knew that! I could feel it in my blood whenever I was in the ring.

Just then, I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

I froze and turned my head to the side, only to see a very concerned-looking Blake standing there.

His eyebrows were furrowed, and his stormy grey eyes held a mixture of concern, worry, and a little confusion.

“Are you alright?” he asked, obviously noticing the way I was limping to my locker.

I shrugged lightly, trying to brush it off. “I’m okay,” I assured him.

He shook his head, not buying it. “You’re limping,” he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes. “Just a little stomachache,” I lied, knowing full well it was more serious than that. I knew it wasn’t going to be good news.

“So, you’re heading home?” he asked.

I nodded, continuing my painful journey down the hallway.

He rolled his eyes, then did something I never expected.

He slipped one arm under my knees and the other around my back.

I let out a surprised squeak at his sudden action.

He wasn’t even carrying any books, not that he ever does, but I never thought he’d be carrying me, bridal style.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my eyes wide.

He grinned. “Helping a damsel in distress,” he replied.

I glared at him, but I knew he wouldn’t put me down until we reached my locker.

“Just down this hall, turn right, locker 87,” I directed, frowning.

His grin was still in place as he set me down at my locker.

I huffed in annoyance as I dialed my combination and opened my locker.

I shoved my books into my bag and slung the strap over my shoulder.

The pain in my stomach was intensifying, and I groaned, doubling over and clutching my stomach.

“Claire. You okay?” Blake’s voice was filled with concern.

I nodded, biting my lip. “Yeah,” I managed to rasp out. “Just a little stomachache.”

Blake scooped me up again, and this time I didn’t resist. The pain was too intense, and I just wanted it to stop.

I was reaching a point where I would do anything to make the pain go away.

As we approached the office, I could hear Nancy’s frantic voice.

“Where is she? Is she okay? What happened?” she was asking as Blake set me down in the office.

Before Mrs. Evans could answer, Nancy turned to see me, hunched over in pain, and her eyes widened. She’d never seen me in this much pain before. At least, I’d never let her see it.

But right now, I didn’t care. I was fading fast, and it felt like I was being stabbed again, over and over.

I was growing more worried by the second. I was starting to think that my stab wound was more serious than I’d thought.

“Um, you need to sign her out before she can leave,” Mrs. Evans told Nancy, pointing to the student sign-out sheet.

Nancy quickly signed the sheet and rushed over to me.

“Claire, are you okay? What hurts?” she asked.

“Stomach,” I managed to gasp out, my eyes telling her it was related to the stab wound.

She bit her lip in worry and nodded. “Come on.” She grabbed my bag and helped me to her car.

Once we were buckled in, she drove out of there quickly.

The seat belt was irritating my wound, but I didn’t dare take it off with the speed Nancy was driving.

“Where,” I gasped, “are we going?” ~If this is what labor feels like, I never want to have kids!~

~

“Hospital,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the road. “I have a friend there. She’ll help you. But it’ll cost extra to keep it quiet,” she muttered to herself.

“I can pay. My money’s in my wallet in my bag,” I pointed to the back seat where my bag was.

Nancy chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Don’t be silly! I can pay. You’ll need all the money you can get in the future,” she replied.

She parked in the hospital parking lot and we both got out. She hurried over to help me, and we walked in. I tried my best to hide the pain, but it was a struggle.

Nancy told me to stay put while she went to the front desk.

She and the receptionist exchanged a few words before she picked up the phone and dialed a number.

Soon, a woman with dark red hair streaked with caramel highlights and light brown eyes came out of the “Doctors Only” door.

She was wearing a white doctor’s coat over a blue, silky shirt, light blue pajama pants, and light blue tennis shoes. She looked like a typical doctor you’d see in a movie.

After a brief conversation with Nancy, she came over to help me up.

“Hello, Claire. I’m Doctor Kelly, a friend of Nancy’s,” Dr. Kelly greeted me with a warm smile.

I tried to smile back, but it came out more like a grimace.

So, I just nodded. “Alright, I’ll take you in the back and get an X-ray. Nancy told me you were stabbed last night?” Dr. Kelly asked, her eyes narrowing in disapproval.

I nodded, unable to speak. I was sure if I tried, it would just be a groan of pain.

She shook her head in disappointment.

“Claire, do you realize how serious stab wounds can be? You could have internal bleeding, it could get infected, or if it’s really severe, you could die,” she warned me, her eyes wide and serious.

I was even more worried now. I could die! I hadn’t realized that!

~I really need to pay more attention in health class!~

~

Soon, I was in a private room in the back, and Dr. Kelly told me to lie down while she set up for the X-ray.

Nancy watched from a window, her eyes filled with worry and fear. She was biting her nails, her eyebrows furrowed as if she couldn’t believe what was happening.

Heck, ~I~ couldn’t believe what was happening!

After the X-ray, I was taken to a room filled with images of other X-rays.

I was wheeled over to my own X-ray.

I could see the spot where I'd been stabbed, the stitches, and the gaping hole in my belly where the wound was.

Dr. Kelly was pointing out different bones and organs inside me.

“Here,” she indicated a small stream of fluid near my abdomen, “is a bleed. It's a lot worse than you imagined.”

Nancy's face turned ghostly white as she watched the fluid seep into various areas and veins within me.

I was a little freaked out and worried myself.

“S-so, what's the next step?” Nancy asked, her voice shaky, her lips still caught between her teeth.

Dr. Kelly turned her gaze to me as she answered, her voice grave, her words straightforward. “She needs surgery.”