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Kristen strides in the room, wearing a stethoscope around her neck. Her white coat has her name stitched on the left breast pocket, and I wonder if this is from a previous job or if she’s like James, living a dual life.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“I feel great.” I look at Xave with a smile, knowing he’s responsible for how surprisingly awesome I feel.
Kristen doesn’t look happy about my response and gives me a disapproving glace.
She sets a long tube of cream on the side table to my right. “This is for your forehead. We’ll change the dressing every day and apply this liberally on the spot. It will prevent scars.” Her tone is clipped.
I blink slowly and take a calming breath. Kristen’s attitude is stirring a bit of anger inside me, but I need to cut her some slack. It’s not like she’s ever treated me badly. She’s actually been extra nice to me. She’s probably stressed right now, with everyone here at The Tank and most of us injured. The thought makes me wonder how the others are reacting to meeting Kristen, especially Blare with her distrustful nature and bitchy personality.
“Xave, right?” Kristen asks, turning her attention away from me.
“Yeah, nice to meet you.” Xave smiles.
“I’m Kristen Albright. It’s nice meeting you, too.” She pauses, then adds, “I need to check Marci’s bandage, would you mind ... ?” She looks toward the door, subtly.
“Sure, no problem.” He walks away. When he reaches the door, he gives me a backward glance that says it all. We’ll finish what we started. I smile, until Kristen enters my field of vision, obstructing the view.
I wince while she checks the bandage around my ribs. “You’re healing nicely. Make sure to wear this and the bandage on your head for a week or so.”
Healing nicely? One week? That’s it?! I must really be a wimp, thinking I was going to die, when all it’ll take is one week to get better.
Kristen narrows her eyes, noticing my reaction. “You make sure you wear those bandages, okay? Especially around here,” she says in an irritated tone.
“Huh?” What is wrong with her? “Sure, I’ll wear them till I’m feeling better. No worries.”
“No, Marci. Not till you’re feeling better! I know it’ll be a pain, but you need to wear them for at least a week. Longer would be nice.” She says the word “nice” as if I wouldn’t know nice if it crawled up my nose.
I can honestly say I tried to give her a break. I’m not thick-headed; I know it’s been an awful day for everyone. But why has she suddenly become such a hag? I got injured risking my skin to save the day, while she sat here, all safe and prissy in her immaculate lab coat. I’ve had it.
“Hey, I don’t know what’s wrong with you today, lady, but you need to back off. Besides you’re not making sense, I’m injured. Of course I’ll do what I need to do to get better. I’m not an idiot. I’ll wear the stupid bandages.” I’m amazed by my voice’s resonance in the small room. Earlier, I could hardly breathe, now I’m practically screaming.
Kristen’s eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t know?!” she says in an amazed half-question.
“What?” I say defensively, my mind racing to figure out whatever she means.
“I asked you to wear the bandages for at least a week, because you’ll be all better by tomorrow,” Kristen says. “That’s the one universal benefit of having an agent inside you.” The way she says it suggests she thinks I’m dumber than a bag of bricks.
I blink in quick succession. As soon as her words sink in, I know they’re true. All along I just thought I was healthy. I’ve had scrapes, a sprained ankle once or twice, stomach viruses and colds, but nothing has ever lasted for more than a few hours or a day at most. Even when everyone at school was laid out with the flu, I never missed a day due to illness. Suddenly, I remember Dad’s jokes about how the fact that he was a doctor was wasted on me.
“I see,” I say, staring at my hands, my voice void of all feistiness. “I’ll keep the bandages for as long as you need me to.”
Kristen goes through the motions of taking my pulse and blood pressure. She listens to my chest for what feels like ten whole minutes. But it’s just me and this awkwardness I’ve laid out in front of us. Still, she has to realize she was being bitchy about it.
“Everything looks perfect,” she says, taking three steps back.
I watch her as she stands there, looking hesitant. It’s like she wants to say something else, but she’s considering whether it’s wise or not. Finally she says, “Perhaps I shouldn’t meddle, but I don’t think it’s wise for you to ... pursue your romantic interest in Xave.”
My jaw drops. So this why she’s being such a witch. How dare she? I didn’t ask Dr. Love for her advice. What I do or don’t do with Xave is my business and no one else’s. She needs to butt out.
With the calmest tone I can manage, I say, “It’s none of your concern.”
“You’re wrong. It does concern me and it will concern James even more.”
I throw the sheets to one side and stand, putting the bed between us. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Save yourself the heartache, Marci. It can’t end well,” Kristen says.
“And how would you know that?” I press the back of my stupid hospital gown together, trying to keep my dignity.
She nods, a sad, faraway gloom in her green eyes. “Oh, believe me, I know. But that’s neither here nor there.” She waves a hand. “This is work,” she continues in a businesslike tone. “What we do here is important, crucial to IgNiTe’s success. You can’t mix business with pleasure. It’s a bad idea under normal circumstances. Under yours, it’s a huge mistake.”
“So what are you gonna do? Fire us?”
Kristen walks right up to the bed, locking her eyes with mine. “Do you love him?” she asks in a low whisper.
“Again, that’s none of your business.”
“My guess would be that you do. First love,” Kristen says in a mocking, dreamy voice.
My bile stirs, the stainless steel water pitcher on the table shakes with a faint metallic sound. Kristen doesn’t seem concerned by the telekinetic disturbance. But she would be, if she knew I’m considering dousing her with ice water.
“How long do you think you can lie to him?” She pauses, but I don’t answer trick questions. “If you truly love him, do you think that’s a good way to start a relationship?”
“He won’t care,” I say, yearning for it to be true. But the reality is, I don’t know what Xave would do if he knew I’m a monster.
Kristen sighs. “Go on telling yourself that,” she says bitterly.
I know what I’m about to say should probably never cross my lips, but she’s asking for it. “Just because someone dumped you doesn’t mean it’ll happen to me.”
An injured expression flashes through her eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. “We’re trying very hard to keep Oso, Blare and Clark from asking too many questions about The Tank, about me. We can’t risk them learning what we are. There are other pods across the world also led by Symbiots, Marci. We can’t have anyone in the ranks suspecting the leaders are the very creatures they’re trying to destroy. We’re dealing with something serious here, too much to risk on a mere teen crush. How much longer do you think you can keep up appearances? I wager not long, especially if you become romantically involved.”
I hate Kristen for being right. It’s been hard hiding things from Xave through the years, like the day I crashed Clark’s bike. Mostly, I let him believe what he will, but I doubt that would work if we start ... dating. The idea fills me with giddiness and happiness, and in spite of everything, there’s no way I would give up these emotions to keep James and Kristen from being disappointed in me. Maybe it’ll be harder to hide my true nature from Xave, but I’ve done it this long. How much harder can it be?
I’ll train harder. If I subdue my agent completely, Xave never has to know about it unless ... unless someone tells him. I stare at Kristen suspiciously. No, she wouldn’t tell him. No one here would. She just said they’re trying very hard to keep it a secret. All they can do is kick us out of IgNiTe. I can take that chance.
Once my mind is made up, I feel myself relax. The anger I felt toward Kristen dissipates.
“I will lie to Xave for as long as I have to. My personal life won’t become an issue here. You have my word,” I say. More tentatively I add, “If James feels I should leave, then I will.” The way my voice cracks at the last word betrays my true feelings. I’ve finally found a place where I fit in. Leaving would be difficult.
Kristen’s shoulders fall a few inches and a thin smile stretches her lips. “I’ve nothing against you, Marci. You’re a brave girl who knows what she wants, and I admire that.” She nods, walks to the door and before leaving she adds, “Just consider this, you have more than yourself to think about.”
Her last words, although gentle, feel like a slap in the face. They echo inside my head over and over, an undeniable truth. She just called me selfish. The shoe fits all too perfectly.