Chapter Text
Bristol Hospital, April 2013
I've always hated latecomers. In my whole short life. Because if I do whatever it takes to arrive on time to an appointment we set (like take one subway line and two buses), I can't see why others should mess up everything.
18 minutes late. I snort annoyed.
At least after the appointment I'll be able to go home with my mum.
I'm thankful I remembered to take with me my shiny new purple iPod Nano, at least I'll have some company.
I take off my earbuds as soon as the door in front of me opens, a nurse points at the available chairs by my side “You can sit here while waiting for your family. Emma.”
I get up, hopeful that my turn finally arrived. “Doctor Connors was called for an emergency, he'll be back in 15 minutes maximum. He told me to offer his apologies.”
“Not a problem, I'll wait.” On the outside I manage to be gentle, but on the inside I snort once more.
The door closes and I throw myself again on the plastic chair which hosted me till now.
I take out my phone from the backpack to pass the time, while the boy who just came out from the doctor's office sits down on my right, one chair away from me. With the corner of my eye I estimate he must be around my age.
I hear him talking quickly over his phone “Yeah, just finished. I'm waiting you here, alright.” He lightly snorts while hanging up. “Are you here for a certificate too?”
I need a moment to understand he's speaking with me. I take a look around, but we're in the corridor on our own.
“No, well sort of. A check-up.” I don't feel like illustrating all my medical adventures to a complete stranger.
“Asthma, I presume.” It isn't a question, just a mere fact.
“How can you tell?” I ask curious.
“The inhaler is peeking from your pocket.” He's right indeed. “I used it too, until like one year ago.”
Instinctively I push the green and white inhaler in the back of my jacket's pocket.
Now that we started talking, I can take a look directly to my interlocutor. His face is a bit round, short dark hair and slightly protruding ears.
“Now don't you use it anymore?” We stayed in silence for a while, but I want to know.
“No, I don't need it any longer. Someone must have told you that asthma often gets better growing up.”
Yeah, I was told that. And since when I knew, I've never stopped hoping that will happen to me too.
Last month pollen evidently didn't agree, and thought to get me an attack during gym class. I collapsed during a volleyball match in the school-yard, my lungs on fire desperately looking for air. This was why I started going in and out from the hospital in the last three weeks, having to calculate again all the therapy was a pain in the ass. But I had to. However my interlocutor doesn't need to know all this.
“I hope it'll happen for real.” I told that to myself more than him. “Are you still on therapy?”
“Some tablets in certain periods of the year, but I don't need inhalers anymore. Using those were troubles, especially when I'm driving.”
Driving? He can't be old enough for a licence. He's taller then me by just a couple of inches, can't be so old. “What do you drive?”
“Karts. Like in races, tournaments... next year I'll be 15 and I'll finally join world championship.”
So he's just one year older than me. “This means you must be good.”
He smiles for a second “Well, I try.”
His smile makes me feel weird. Like when a blizzard comes exactly the day you have a math test.
“Your name is Emma, right?” I'm surprised he noticed the nurse's words, generally I'm a pretty invisible person. “I'm Lando.” He lends out his right hand to me, and I shake it after a few seconds of hesitation. “Thank you for not laughing at my name.”
I smile “I'm named like a Jane Austen's character, I can't feel nothing but solidarity towards you.”
We don't speak much after. While a guy slightly older than him arrives (I deduce he's his brother because of an evident similarity), I'm called for my appointment, finally.
“So... bye.” I can't find nothing more original to say.
“Bye.” He replies while he's wearing his jacket.
Thanks to the nurse holding the door open for me, I (unluckily) hear a part of the dialogue between Lando and his brother.
The second one asks “Who's that girl?”
“Nobody.”
Right Lando, I'm nobody.
“Hi Emma, I'm sorry for being so late. Take a seat, I'll check your blood pressure and then we'll proceed with the spirometry.”
I hated that goddamn test, but I couldn't oppose. At least this time I didn't have to take medications before.
I know I have to try to relax, especially during the pressure measurement, but my damn brain keeps going back to that fucking “Nobody.”
C'mon Emma, what the hell was he supposed to say? You two just had a conversation in an hospital.
It's not like he asked for your number or something. Unfortunately.
Unfortunately? Where does this come from. Goddammit.
“Pressure is alright, just the pulse a bit fast. Did something happen?
And what I'm supposed to reply now. “Only school... nothing to worry about.”
It's the first credible lie I could come up with, but as the doctor is nodding seems he believed that.
I sigh in relief inside myself while I'm sitting in front of the spirometer. Bring on the torture.
The next morning I wave to Olivia, my best friend is waiting for me in front of school entrance like she does every day (well besides yesterday, like the justification for medical reasons signed by my mum certifies).
“I'll take you to administration, but you have to tell me how Geordie Shore ended, my dad wanted to watch a movie.”
I roll my eyes. I don't like such shows, but Holly does. I just watch them to comment them with her. Ah the things people do for friendship...
After leaving my justification to the secretary, she's still waiting for me by the door. “Gaz is an asshole, Charlotte should have kicked him in the face.”
She's still insulting more than half of the cast, when I notice with the corner of my eye someone who's weaving to me in the middle of the corridor full of people.
Lando.
Oh crap, I didn't know he attended school here.
I wave back quickly, while Holly follows my gaze. “Who are you looking at?”
“Nobody.” How ironic from me to answer like this, while yesterday I was so inexplicably mad for the same thing.
“Do you know him?” Holly the meddler doesn't give up, while I'm dragging her to our classes. “Wait, I know who he is. He's in math class with my brother. He says he misses a lot of lessons because he drives something as a sport. He's got a weird name: Lino, Luca...”
“Lando” I reply already exasperated.
“Right. So, how do you know him?” There's no way to stop her.
“I bumped into him yesterday before my check-up and we spoke for a few minutes, that's it.”
“And why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know he was here, and it wasn't important. I don't have to tell you each second of my day.”
By now we're in front of science class, she'll have to go in another building for her English lesson. “You can't persuade me, you're way too on the defensive with this. And you're just very lucky the bell will ring in a minute and I have to run.”
She says goodbye running away for real, while I roll my eyes again.
During the next three days I don't meet Lando anymore.
Now that I knew it was possible to bump into him in the corridor, I was much more attentive when I was walking from one class to another, mentally slapping myself as soon as I realized I was doing that.
Anyway I couldn't waste too much time on such things, because exams were approaching. And to put me in a difficult position mathematics was more than enough, since I had to work hard on that subject every damn afternoon. I couldn't even ask for help to Holly, because in maths she was even more hopeless than myself.
I snort for the umpteenth time, while I'm arranging my hair clip.
In the meanwhile I'm distracted by a notification on my phone. It's a message on Instagram, must be from Holly since she's the only follower I have. I downloaded the app just last week, specifically to share memes with my best friend.
“Hi :)”
I'm a bit confused since it's a new conversation, or at least I am until I notice the sender: @landonorris
I throw away the phone like it was on fire, and I jump up. What does he want? How did he find me? And why I didn't search him on there?
I do it now, but his profile is as new as mine. He uploaded only two pictures, of an helmet and a pair of headphones.
And he knows I read his message, so I have to hurry up replying something. Something decent if it's possible.
“Hey hi!” Congrats Emma, so original.
“How do you do?”
“Fine, a bit busy with homework. And you?” So very original again, Emma.
I'm tempted to ask him where he's been, but this way he'd find out I noticed his absence.
No, no. Better to wait a bit.
“I'm away with my brother for karting.”
How am I supposed to answer now? I don't know anything about that. I don't even use a bike, c'mon.
After about ten minutes I'm still racking my brain, surprisingly he's the one to write again.
“How was the doctor's visit of the other day?”
“Good, everything's fine.” It was really good. My new medications took back all my values in the norm, and finally I could live again my usual life. An existence in name of offending maths. “Just for the record, how do you deal with integrals?”