Chapter 22
THEO
“Boys and girls, now that you have your stickers, settle down.” Mrs. Sanchez, the first-grade teacher Mac introduced me to when we arrived, patiently waited for the room to go quiet. “It’s time for Dr. James to share with us about being a doctor.”
The kids clapped as I moved into the center of the amphitheater, but I could tell they were distracted by the SWAG. Why did Mac have to give out stickers? The only thing worse than going after stickers would be if he handed out puppies.
I cleared my throat. Sixty or seventy wiggly, squirmy kids sat before me crosslegged.
They were like puppies. My mind instantly went to the boy who died on the operating table.
The one whose death didn’t have any emotional impact on me at all.
These kids were just a little bit younger than he’d been.
These kids could get in a car after school and be hurt in an accident, their vehicle totaled just like the one from the fire department practice on Saturday morning.
The boy who died had been ejected, no extraction needed, like practiced.
But these little innocent faces, completely clueless to what could happen in life, wanted to hear from me about my job.
The one that made me feel nothing.
“I’m Theo James and I’m a doctor.”
The kids stared at me or stared off into space.
“Anyone got a mom or a dad who’s a doctor?” I asked.
Three kids’ hands shot up.
“Anyone been to the doctor?”
Pretty much everyone’s hand went up.
I glanced over all the little heads and saw Mallory in the back where I left her in her cute fucking school sweatshirt. She made a funny face and tipped her head back and forth. Either she was having a seizure or giving me a reminder to make it fun.
“Everyone’s been to the doctor. Good. You don’t have to always see a doctor when you’re sick. It’s important to go to see a doctor to make sure you’re healthy and stay that way. To get shots you need so you don’t get a communicable disease.”
Mallory’s eyes went wide and stared at me like I was insane. Or an idiot. I was speaking as if I was at a conference full of boring trauma surgeons who found joy in a splenectomy at three a.m.
I just told a roomful of little kids about shots. Communicable diseases.
Clearly, I was the smartest idiot around. Mallory was right. I was serious. I glanced at Mac, who was only shaking his head in clear disappointment.
Holy shit. I had a stick up my ass.
I left Denver and moved to Hunter Valley so I didn’t turn into–or any more into–one of my boring, monotonous colleagues who didn’t engage with anyone on a real, personal level.
I was standing here, in a roomful of fucking kids, because of the decision to escape and now I was behaving exactly like the person I didn’t want to be.
Lighten up, James! Get your shit together. People have feelings! They want fun. Excitement. Joy.
I could be fun. I could be fucking fun all day long.
I glanced at Mac again. The fucker. No way was he and his stickers were going to be more likable than me. I was the cool doctor. I, Theo James, was cool.
And competitive.
Not only did trauma surgeons not like to lose–because that meant a patient died–but I also had three brothers, one a professional hockey player whose job was to always win.
Mac and his stickers were going down.
I pulled the imaginary stick out of my ass and tossed it aside.
“Who here has farted?” I said, my voice carrying across the big room.
Kids giggled and some covered their faces with their hands. Parents and teachers around the room gasped and stared at me wide eyed. Yup, I just went there.
A few hands went up, all boys.
“Come on,” I said, moving my hand in a circle. I pointed at Mac. “I bet the fire chief farts.”
His mouth dropped open and his ears turned red. He couldn’t lie. Not to a roomful of kids.
“That’s my dad and he farts all the time!” A kid toward the back called out, one that looked a hell of a lot like a miniature version of Mac.
Mac gave his son a dad look, then offered me a thumbs up as his answer.
“See?” I asked, then turned back to the kids. “Now don’t be shy. Who here has farted?”
Some kid actually farted. Everyone laughed. I couldn’t help but smile.
“The kid in the blue shirt just gave everyone an example of how amazing the human body is.”
The kid blushed, but grinned and showed he was missing his top two teeth.
“Now who’s burped?” I continued.
More hands went up this time.
“I bet Miss Mornay burps.”
Everyone turned and looked at her in the back. It was her turn to blush, but she caught on and patted her stomach. “Every meal,” she called, used to speaking up so she could be heard.
The kids burst out in giggles.
“Know what the body’s doing when you fart or burp?”
The kids shook their heads, all eyes on me. Oh yeah, I had them hooked.
“You’re letting excess gas or air from your body,” I explained. “Like you’re one big balloon. It was made to do that. Despite what your parents and teachers say about doing it in public, you’re supposed to fart and burp.”
The kids started talking, probably telling each other that they’d been wronged their whole lives, so I raised my hands in the air. “That’s not all,” I called over the chatter.
They instantly fell silent because what on earth could I talk about next?
“What about throwing up? Vomiting. Upchucking. Tossing your cookies. Who’s done it?”
Now every kid’s hand was up and practically waving at me.
“One time, I threw up in the back seat of the car all over my brother,” I regaled. “He had it in his hair, all over his shirt. Some even got in his ear.”
Groans and laughing ensued.
I couldn’t help but smile, remembering how Silas hated me for a week after that.
I held up my hands again and the kids quieted. “When you throw up, your body is getting rid of something it doesn’t like. The body’s supposed to get rid of stuff like air, gas, and yucky things from our stomachs. Studying to be a doctor, you get to learn all kinds of fun stuff like that.”
I glanced at Mac, who was slowly shaking his head, a smile turning up his mouth.
I remembered Mallory’s advice. “Now, that’s stuff that comes out of our bodies. Let’s go over things that shouldn’t go in. What’s bad to put in our bodies?”
All the kids called out different things. It was chaos. Mrs. Sanchez came to stand next to me. She raised her arm over her head and gave the peace sign.
Clearly that meant shut the hell up. It worked.
“Thank you,” I said to her, then glanced around the group. “I heard drugs. Smoking. Cleaning supplies and I think even Legos.”
The kids laughed.
“Knowing these things should stay out of your body–or that of your brothers and sisters–means you’re all on your way to being doctors already. Be sure to tell your parents the next time you fart, it’s healthy. Just your body working right.”
The kids clapped with more enthusiasm than for Mac.
Ha.
I nodded to Mrs. Sanchez, who, by the look on her face, wasn’t sure if she was afraid she was going to get seventy parents calling in or if she was thrilled to send kids home to expel healthy farts.
I met up with Mac and we headed out of the assembly room. Apparently, I was the last of the speakers and the teachers–including Mallory–were giving directions on walking quietly through the halls to recess.
“Farting?” he asked, pushing open the school’s front door, shaking his head. “My kid’s going to let one rip in front of his grandmother and blame it on me.”
I grinned, pleased with how fun I was–stick free.
Slapping him on the shoulder, I told him, “You’ll think twice about what you do with me at next month’s training.”