Chapter 25
“MATURE FOR YOUR AGE”
There is teenage naivety, teenage recklessness, and whatever ungodly combination of both Jade consumed when making her presentation for tomorrow.
But all things considered, if her career ever survives this public debacle, I’m proud of her.
THANATOS
KANE
My stomach churns violently, so cold and clammy I feel like I’m approaching shock levels of norepinephrine as I try not to vomit on the polished shoes of the attendings in front of me.
Cold sweat clings to the back of my neck. My pulse won’t slow. I keep checking my phone every thirty seconds like the outcome might magically change if I stare hard enough. Still nothing from Percy.
I text my eleventh co-resident, begging.
Kane
Need emergency shift trade. Please.
No response.
Fuck. I already traded yesterday off for Med Prom.
The memory of Percy’s apartment door nearly tears the breath from my lungs all over again. Hanging half off its hinges. Splintered wood. Broken lock.
For one horrifying second, my brain stopped functioning entirely. Then instinct took over. I shoved the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.
“Percy?!” My voice ripped through the apartment.
No answer. I tore through every room, pulse hammering so hard my vision blurred.
Bedroom.
Bathroom.
Closet.
“Percy!”
Nothing.
She’d vanished.
And Hyacinth was nowhere to be seen.
I bolted through the apartment, screaming at Jade to call the police, jumping to the worst-case scenarios first—kidnapping? Assault?!
I was already reaching for my phone to call for help when Jade grabbed my arm.
“Think for one second,” she snapped.
Then she called Hyacinth. Esther had gone into labor. Percy had probably rushed out to see her.
Logical. Reasonable.
Except nothing about that apartment felt reasonable.
Mousey’s squeaks sounded like terrified hisses, and the cats lunged, claws bared, for my face as soon as I entered.
And why was Mousey still out? He always put himself back when he escaped Bianca’s enclosure.
His paws kept skittering like he was still running from something.
Jade had to drag me out of there, collapsed on my hands and knees, paranoia making my thoughts frenzied.
Percy’s sheets were neatly folded, gardening tools polished and clean by her dresser, her room spotless.
Why would she make her bed, but rip the door from its hinges?
My stomach somersaults. None of this makes any sense, but despite multiple texts and calls, she hasn’t answered.
I pray to God that she’s fine and that I’m overreacting.
And vow to never, ever come back to this hideous auditorium again. I love Jade dearly, but there are so many things I would rather do than watch her end-of-course presentation in a musty basement with movie-theater chairs from the 50s.
I can’t believe they’re making her present at the usual Grand Rounds. Multiple different residencies are here—gen surg, pathology, OB/GYN—but, to be honest, as much as I love my sister, medical student presentations aren’t that special.
Also, her miserly school scheduled their Med Prom for a Thursday, which meant she had to wake up early to waste her Friday on this.
Absurd.
Everything about today feels excessive, irksome, a distraction from me finding Percy.
Jade’s hovering, as frustrated as I am, wringing our mother’s bracelet around her wrist as she waits behind the podium with David.
When she told me that the clerkship coordinator had paired them to work on a final project together, I nearly choked.
I wish she’d warned me earlier, but she can’t choose who she rotates with, so it’s not like this was preventable.
It’s also weird that they’re doing a final presentation together rather than apart. I wonder if it’s because his lazy M4 ass didn’t want to do all the work himself.
Honestly, that sounds like him.
Jade’s wearing professional pink tweed, and Goldilocks has a pirate’s eye patch and a billowy white top over his trousers, styling his hair with so much gel it looks like a sun-bleached pirate’s hat.
I can barely even look at him; he looks so ridiculous.
If he acts like a pirate during his section, I’m checking myself back into the psych ward.
I shake my head, texting Percy again.
Kane
Just tell me you’re okay
I know you’re exhausted and taking care of Esther
I’m so sorry. For everything. Please talk to me.
Last night, I was so drained I fell asleep while texting, with the ring Benson gave me resting heavy in my pocket.
I kept it with me this morning, too.
If by any miracle I see Percy today, I have to talk to her.
With a click, hum, and a whirr, the projector fires on, chatter dimming down as Grand Rounds begin with:
IMPOSTER SYNDROME AND HOW TO PROMOTE WELLNESS.
Fuck me sideways.
They called us all together for a mandatory wellness lecture? At seven o’clock in the morning?
I’d rather be well at my house.
But I pay attention regardless, because it’s my sister, and it’s not like I have any means to escape.
A chair creaks, and my father slides into the adjacent seat.
He must really love Jade to miss surgery for her. His scrubs never left the O.R. for any of my presentations.
“Where’s the bright one?” he asks quietly.
I don’t bother clarifying whether he means ‘intelligent’, bright, or ‘less depressed than our morally bereft family’ bright. Both are true.
“Friend’s in labor,” I explain, deciding to spare him the whole story.
“Hmm,” he says, brows drawing together.
He settles back in the chair, diverting his attention to Jade.
Great. He doesn’t believe me. Soon, if I can’t beg for her to take me back, everyone is going to know I’m the one who ruined everything. Just another strike for Dr. Demon.
I sulk further.
My father side-eyes the posture but doesn’t comment, watching Jade present about the usual wellness activities: sleep, spirituality, mindfulness, holding space…
In the corner of my eye, I spot Hyacinth and Percy quietly shuffling in the back to sit with the other medical students.
I bolt up immediately, heart pounding, to see how she looks.
Bloodshot eyes. Messy ponytail. Hospital scrubs, a little too loose, the same way she always wears them.
But she doesn’t see me staring, and slumps down next to Hyacinth, dropping into her seat with an exhausted sigh.
I’m swiveling around so obviously to watch her that Dad’s icy hand lands on my shoulder, reminding me to focus, and I reluctantly turn my eyes back to Jade.
I’ll catch her as soon as she leaves.
Back in front, David switches to his next slide, An Intro to Imposter Syndrome, complete with a shoddy AI-generated pirate ship rocking in the center.
“Let’s talk about what makes an imposter,” he says, stepping across the stage. “Is it academic difficulty? Interpersonal skills? Inexperience?”
He presses his clicker, but the presentation doesn’t move.
The screen goes black.
Frowning, he clicks harder.
Still black.
He shuffles to his computer, messing with the mouse.
With the click of her heels, Jade moves to the center, stony expression evolving into a knowing, almost triumphant smirk.
Oh, God.
David fumbles with his computer as the rest of the audience waits, bored, while my insides plummet.
That’s the same expression Jade had when she stole my Ghost and moved it to the roof, all because Dad said she was too young to drive it.
So she drove it to the sky.
Father must sense something, too, because he glares at me as if I encouraged this.
“Huh, looks like technical difficulties,” David says, smiling tightly.
But then the screen flashes again, and Jade yanks the mic from his hand.
The audience, which was approaching slumber, is suddenly wide awake.
David’s forehead creases. “Jade, what—”
“I just added a little something,” she says sweetly. “Don’t worry.”
“About imposter syndrome,” she says, and the presentation flips to a photo of David’s face.
He steps back, baffled.
“Jade, what—”
I turn to see who Jade’s looking at, and spot Calypso, of all people, simmering in her seat while guarding her arms protectively around her laptop.
“This is David Amleth,” Jade says, and the presentation flips to a photo of him with his class.
“Nobody wants to think of this guy as an imposter, right? He’s our friend. He’s been with us for four grueling years.”
“But since many of you have taught him—and especially because he wants to match here—I thought it prudent to make sure all were present in case he tries something… unexpected if the match doesn’t go his way.”
The crowd titters while Jade speaks, wondering whether this is just awkward delivery for a fairly benign presentation topic.
She levels a contemptuous look at him, but he’s still got the pleasant smile carved into his face, drumming his fingers against his computer.
“I first became suspicious when David texted me before our combined rotation, asking when we should be there. Especially because he should have gotten the same starting email,” Jade continues, nails tightening around the mic. “So why did you keep texting me, asking for information?”
The screen flashes to a text exchange that confirms what Jade said.
The crowd's jabbering increases.
“And then,” Jade continues, “when I went to take my shelf exam, and you weren’t there. So then I thought… what would make a man skip the shelf exam? Illness, perhaps?” Jade stalks toward David, who’s still at his computer, trying to click out of the presentation.
His mouse flies uselessly across the screen.
The image flips to a blurry screenshot of him and Calypso, with the caption, P=MD, beneath it.
“But he can’t be that sick,” Jade continues, “if he was on a date with Calypso the same night. So imagine how much more surprised I was when this same man, who was actively dating another woman, asked me on a date that same night.”
Another texting exchange pops up.
Among the faculty, the clerkship director stands up, looking like he’s about to interrupt.
But it’s David’s pallid, trembling expression as he stumbles that I think convinces him to slowly, regretfully, sit back down.
He is hiding something.
And ever the mess that raised us, the older generation stands down to let Jade speak.