Chapter 3 #3
“Mobitz type 1,” I answer.
He raises a brow. “You didn’t study this last night?”
Heat floods my face.
Guess Kane’s sabotage is universal.
“I was on nights last night,” I say meekly, begging it won’t sound like I’m whining. “Labor and delivery was busy.”
“It’s type two,” David interrupts. “You can tell because the PR interval is constant before the dropped beat.”
The room goes still.
“Excellent, David,” Dr. Goodyear says.
I sink lower in my chair, moping.
The correction is bad enough. The praise is worse.
Dr. Goodyear moves on without another glance in my direction.
Luke claps him on the back, and David beams.
Gunners, both of them.
After his last slide, when the last of my pride has dissolved, Dr. Goodyear strolls out, reminding us once again that we’re being graded on performance.
Kane joins him on his exit, barely glancing at his own father, busy clicking through pager messages.
Levi jumps up first, exploding like a firecracker to ruffle Luke’s hair.
“IL-1!” he says. “How’ve you been, man?”
“Inflammatory,” Luke says, and they both chuckle, putting their notes away.
“What are you on, Luke?” David asks, scraping his chair to stand.
“Derm,” he says. “The promised land.”
“Nice!” David says, cordial as ever. “Levi?”
“Emergency,” he says, tilting his head. “With Ari.”
Ari sighs, nodding.
I pause to sip the last of my matcha before standing.
“Calypso, I know you’re on Plastics,” David says. He looks right past me to his next target. “Jade?”
If Jade notices he skipped me, her voice doesn’t show it.
“Family med,” she says, slinging on her backpack.
I finally stand, making brief, stunted eye contact with David, before his smile drops to a sneer, swiveling toward the exit.
“Anyone want to spend my extra MoonMonies points?” he asks, already at the door. His face morphs to a smile, expanding like the Cheshire Cat’s.
“YES,” Luke says. Ari echoes him, Calypso squeals, and just like that, David fluffs his golden hair, leading his followers away.
I’m still standing at my table, empty drink in hand.
Embarrassment curdles in my stomach.
That’s all it took for them to forget me? Pumpkin spice?
“Did they just… ghost us?” Hyacinth asks incredulously. “In real life?”
“I think they did,” Esther adds, “and the Rinky Dink Survivors chat has been noticeably quiet. Luke never stops yapping in there.”
“I’ll fix this,” Hyacinth says, taking out her phone.
You have been added to: Dr. Demon Fan Club
“Hyacinth!” I protest.
Name changed to: Genuine and Real
Esther snickers. “Are you here for the right reasons?”
“Absolutely,” I answer wistfully, staring at the group of my old friends walking off.
The pit in my stomach grows. I was hoping Kane would get David away from me, not propel everyone else further.
Hyacinth swings her arm around my waist, leaning her head on my shoulder.
“I think she’s the hot new bombshell that entered the villa, actually.” She peers up at me. “The next time you touch him, can you tell us how he reacts?”
“Hyacinth, what the hell?” I respond, hopping away.
If I had a penny for every time Hyacinth existed in a different dimension than the rest of us, I’d be a millionaire by now.
“Just a theory I have,” she says. “Most men are touch-starved,” she explains, “and if you want him to continue this relationship, maybe you should entice him a little.”
I can’t believe my eyes. Hyacinth knows as well as I do that this is fake.
But the way she’s looking at me…
She can’t think he actually cares, does she?
I mean, he just deliberately texted us the wrong answers—
“Not too much, though,” Esther advises, my most loyally clueless friend, patting her belly. “One thing leads to another, and—”
“Absolutely not,” I say, shoving my notes into my backpack, remembering the stark absence of learning that happened as soon as Kane arrived.
I turn on my heel as what’s left of my friends trail behind me, slowing down slightly so Esther can keep up.
This was a horrible idea.
Doctors make the worst patients, as they say.
But they also make the worst partners.
As a student, I can play well enough with others to make our fictional patient with 15 different rhythms miraculously make it, but when it comes to saving myself, I don’t think my education—or my reputation—stands any chance at survival with a man in the way.
I storm out of the hospital, fuming.
Time of Persephone’s ego death, at Kane’s hand: 8:01 A.M.
1 Narrator’s notes: Pimping is the medical word for aggressive questioning, usually from attendings to medical students.
I imagine it emerged as one of the many sex-fueled jokes men used to keep themselves entertained in the days of yore.
But now, with the majority of attendings being men, and the majority of medical students being women (go feminism!), it’s a little strange to keep comparing learners to paid whores, exploited by their pimps.
But hey, nobody asked me. I just haunt here.
2 Narrator’s notes: There are spirits that roam this hospital, but as of yet, Kane is not one of them.
He would *kill* to have my job.
Oh wait…