The next few days in the hospital were torturously boring for Lydia. There wasn’t much to do, and she was confined to the bed for the majority of her stay. After only one day she wanted to scream at all the white that surrounded her. Her parents visited frequently and took as much time off work as they could to see her. Dariela came after school, filling her in on what happened during the day. She told Lydia that she would’ve ditched school and come earlier each day, but a cop was always outside the hospital. “I could outrun him, but there’s no way to sneak past him or the doctors,” Dariela had said.
On the first day her friend came to visit, Lydia immediately pressed her for information about what had happened.
“Well, after you passed out, I dragged Richard along with me and we went to get Retter,” Dariela recalled.
“Was she livid?”
“She was until she saw you on the ground,” Dariela said. “Then she kneeled over you and cried like you were her own kid.” She scratched her head and continued. “After that, the paramedics came and hauled you off. They checked Richard and me and said we were fine. They brought Mark here to check him out, but he was at school the next day, so I guess he’s fine, too. We should be so lucky,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Lydia chuckled. She didn’t mention what had happened with the EKG or shared what the doctor had said about her muscles. She stayed brief and vague, telling Dariela that the doctor said there was no apparent danger, which satisfied her friend. Lydia didn’t want to worry her.
When their laughter and banter lulled into silence, Dariela took on a thoughtful expression. She faced Lydia, looking her dead in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she said, her gaze dropping to the floor.
Lydia’s neck must have snapped in several places as she whipped it around toward Dariela. “What?” she asked. Her friend appeared—dare she say it—regretful. It was a side that Lydia had never witnessed before in all the years she’d known her.
“I’m sorry,” Dariela repeated, scratching the nape of her neck. It sounded weird coming from her, and she looked as uncomfortable as Lydia was. “I shouldn’t have pushed to go to the storage room. Something really bad could’ve happened.”
Lydia reached out from under the blanket and gasped when she saw her arm. She cursed herself for forgetting about her new muscles and shifted the blanket to cover it. Thankfully, Dariela didn’t notice. She carefully patted her friend’s hand. “Hey, it’s not your fault. I chose to go with you. I probably would’ve gone whether you wanted to or not, okay?”
Dariela raised her head, revealing wet eyes. No tears stained her cheeks, but they were threatening to cascade down at any moment. She immediately turned away. “Okay. It’s just that when they put you on the gurney, you were out and looked—well, I was worried.”
“I’m fine,” Lydia said. “You helped me when Mark wouldn’t.” She was touched, but was unsure how to react to the moment. There was only one surefire way that presented itself and she used it. “Speaking of which, Mark’s the one who pushed me, so he’s to blame. I’ll bet he got his own scare from this whole thing though,” she said, laughing at the thought of the boy frantically running around.
“I thought we might need to get him some new pants!” Dariela added, tears and chuckles replacing her frown. The two laughed and made jokes for the rest of the visit. Lydia felt even closer to Dariela after that day. An unspoken promise was forged to never speak of Dariela’s moment of weakness from that time forth.
Although Dariela visited each day to chat or watch television, and a few other classmates popped in to wish her well, Lydia was itching to leave the hospital. Her body hadn’t yet returned to normal, so she assumed that it was permanent. When the third day rolled around and Dr. Brown returned, she could barely contain her eagerness to leave.
“Healthy as a horse, and with the muscle to boot,” Dr. Brown said, smiling at his own joke as he shifted through the papers in a folder. “It does look like the effects are permanent, but you’re not in any danger.”
So I was right. I’m stuck like this.
“You can leave as soon as your parents arrive. Although we’ll be in touch if anything comes up.”
“Alright,” Lydia said. No further incidents had occurred during her time there, and she was cautious of anything she touched. There had been a few instances in which she’d forgotten, accidently bending a fork or breaking off a toilet handle. She tried to forget about those ordeals, writing it off to poor equipment, and was focused solely on leaving. The day seemed to drag on forever, the minute hand on the room’s clock crawling along.
As soon as Lydia’s parents arrived, she was allowed to leave. She threw on a long shirt and jeans, the most concealing of her outfits her parents had brought. The clothes fit awkwardly, and Lydia knew immediately that the same problem would present itself with the rest of her wardrobe.
The checkout was relatively quick, for her mother had already filled out much of the paperwork before they arrived at her room. But as the family walked toward the hospital’s exit, they were stopped by a well-groomed man dressed in a dark business suit, exuding wealth from every pressed particle of his clothing. He straightened his tie and made a beeline for Lydia, nearly gliding across the floor. He was accompanied by a brutish man, likely a bodyguard, dressed in a polo shirt and slacks. His beard was in dire need of cutting.
“Lydia Penner,” the well-dressed man said as she slowly shook his outstretched hand. He had a strong grip, but she matched it easily. Was that surprise in his eyes? “I’m Bartholomew Rooke, CEO of Rooke Pharmaceuticals. We didn’t have the pleasure of meeting during your tour of the building. Peter was saving the best for last, I suppose.”
He chuckled at his own joke, letting go of her hand. Lydia smiled politely, but she waited anxiously for him to light into her about breaking into the storage room. Would he sue her and her family for some kind of damage? It was a possibility. Her parents were as cordial as she was, but they looked equally confused and nervous in his presence. “I’m Arnold, and this is my wife, Debra,” her father said, introducing them.
“What a sour ordeal this whole thing has been,” Rooke said, folding his hands behind his back. “I do hope you’re alright and that nothing bad has resulted from all this.”
“She’s fine,” Debra said. “They just released her.”
“Splendid!” Rooke exclaimed. “I had hoped as much, for I dropped by to see how you were doing. Well, that and to foot your medical bill.”
That was a shock to the family. His grin grew wider at their gaping mouths and he continued. “An act of goodwill. This was all an accident. Water under the bridge,” he said, slapping the air dismissively at any protest on their lips.
“Thank you,” Debra stammered, barely able to force the words out. “Thank you very much!”
“Happy to help,” he said, turning to Lydia. She was a little wary of him but couldn’t pinpoint why. The whole endeavor seemed like he was going out of his way for some ulterior motive. Lydia couldn’t fathom any possible reason for insincerity on his part. So she smiled and thanked him as well. “I do hope you’ll return for our complimentary tour we’ve offered to your entire class. Hopefully, there will be no future. .. accidents.”
That last sentence heightened her worry. Especially how he had let the word “accidents” slip slowly off his tongue. What did he mean by that? What had he heard? Did he know what her condition was, courtesy of the strange concoction? She imagined herself locked away in one of the labs, technicians swarming around, poking and prodding her with needles and scalpels while Rooke watched from the center of the room. Maybe that was his plan: to experiment on Lydia rather than to sue her. The questions and visions swam around in her head. Her chest tightened and she struggled to regulate her breathing. Her shirt-turned-corset wasn’t helping.
She waved the ideas away as silly notions, agitation remaining from her initial worries of harsh legal action. She smiled as best as she could and nodded. “Maybe our class will get to meet you.”
Rooke laughed good-naturedly, which, with her fantasy of unknown experiments fresh in her mind, sounded chilling. “I can only hope,” he said. He nodded at his bodyguard and produced a checkbook from his suit’s inner pocket. “Well, I must be going. Sorry to make this a short visit, but it’s wonderful to see you up and on your feet. We were afraid for you, to say the least.” He wrote out a check, handed it to Arnold, and shook their hands once again. “Nice meeting all of you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Lydia’s parents replied before he walked off. They resumed their walk down the hall to the door, chatting to one another about how kind he was. Lydia trailed slightly behind, watching Rooke until he was out of sight.
April and Dr. Brown saw Lydia off, advising her to stay safe and to be careful. Lydia had a sneaking suspicion that the hospital staff had been told what had happened at Rooke Pharmaceuticals, which meant her parents had been informed as well. That was confirmed when they were in the car and on their way home. Her mother promptly announced that Lydia was grounded for an indefinite period. That was all that was said on the matter. She took it to mean they thought she had learned her lesson. Well, she could live with that. The pain she felt when the chemicals entered her body had been enough to dissuade any transgressions in her immediate future.
Lydia buckled up, yanking the seatbelt without thought. She heard a thunk! and the belt caught in the seat, dangling loosely. She gulped and looked at her hand. Lydia had pulled the belt normally. She sat back against the seat and closed her eyes, trying to enjoy the car ride home and refusing to think about the broken seatbelt.