Work Text:
“Louise, why did you make me cut class?”
“We had fun at the wharf, didn’t we? And we collected all the best seashells, before all the stinking families with toddlers got their grabby hands on them. That alone makes it worth it,” replies Louise. “C’mon—if we climb in through that window, we can still make lunch.”
The window led to the first-floor girls’ bathroom. Louise climbs in first—Rudy second. Even though she helps him down, he has a bit of a rough landing onto the tile. He stands, wheezing a bit—and takes a puff of his inhaler.
“Y’alright there, buddy?” Louise asks.
He catches his breath. “I’m good. Let’s get to lunch.”
The caf is on the other side of the school—the best way is to cut through the auditorium. They’re a little early—still fourth period, they realize—so the two hang out in the auditorium as they wait for the bell.
Louise tells Rudy about how she’s been putting ABCereal into Ms. LaBonz’s scented candles, and spelling out swear words, so that when she burns the candle, the four-letter words become visible inside the wax.
“I feel like my vocabulary for swear words is expanding at an unpredated rate at this point in my life,” remarks Louise brightly.
Rudy says, “I think you mean, ‘unprecedented.’ That word was on our actual vocabulary quiz,” he says.
“It’s the perfect crime! I don’t think you understand. There’s no fingerprints,” Louise stresses. “Even if Ms. LaBonz gets creeped out and calls the police to investigate, what are they gonna do?”
“Probably nothing, to begin with,” Rudy says. “My dad says most of their effort goes to busting drug operations.”
“Probably,” admits Louise.
The Hormone-iums have movie nights each Puber-Tuesday after school, as they called it. They had left a packet of microwave popcorn on the stage from the night before. So, Louise and Rudy plug in the microwave that’s inside the band room and get popping.
“Man, is it great to get to eat popcorn in the auditorium without having to sit through ‘Obey Traffic Laws: The Musical,’” says Louise.
“Is that a real movie?” asks Rudy.
“No, but it might as well be. They never play anything good at those after-school movie nights. Trust me,” says Louise bitterly. “It always has to have some sort of message. I only come for the popcorn. But at least today, I don’t have to sit through—uh, through…”
“‘Fire Safety 3?’” Rudy suggests.
“Yes. That,” she affirms.
“Or, ‘Don’t Bully Children With Facial Deformities: The Major Motion Picture,’” Rudy claps back.
“They did show that one time,” Louise tells him ruefully.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, it was actually pretty sad.”
“I think the appropriate term is ‘facial differences,’ also,” Rudy adds flatly.
“I think it is, too.”
“Hey—if these are from the Hormone-iums—then doesn’t it make what we’re doing right now stealing?” Rudy says.
“Nonsense,” says Louise. “If my dad has taught me anything—it’s that there’s a difference between stealing and leftovers.”
It’s a game that Louise and Gene play all the time at home—she tosses up multiple pieces of popcorn at different times, and she shows Rudy how she catches each one in her mouth. With the super high ceilings, Louise can really show off. Rudy’s having a riot, getting a load of it.
She’s about to show him four tossups at once, when he gently grabs her by the arm.
“I hear someone coming,” he whisper-shouts.
“Get down!” Louise says rushedly.
They dive between the rows of seats. Rudy and Louise both know that while that orange vest is on, Tina means business. Luckily, this time she reaches the stage without seeing either of them.
“Prop closet. Until she leaves,” whispers Louise, and Rudy nods knowingly.
They stand straight as boards amongst the mops and brooms as well as an assortment of theater junk threatening to fall and make noise. Rudy stares at the quirky turkey head balancing precariously on the head of a Swiffer sweeper.
“My God, she’s still talking to someone,” anguishes Louise.
“It’s probably Jimmy Jr.,” Rudy says hoarsely. “He—comes here at lunchtime to—spin his troubles away.”
Between each couple words, he’s having to catch his breath.
Louise rears her head at him. “Rudy, are you okay? You sound bad. And loud…”
“Sorry,” he wheezes.
“No—I mean, if we’re gonna get caught, we get caught, but why isn’t your inhaler working?” she asked under her breath.
“I dunno—sometimes it takes a minute,” he says.
“I think the coast is clear. Let’s go,” she says.
They make a break for the auditorium south exits—and it spits them into the hallway leading to the cafeteria. Mission accomplished! If they pull this off, it’ll be the best day ever. Morning at the wharf—and first dibs on the softest cookies. She turns to tell Rudy the thought as it comes to her, but the blood drains from her face because he’s doubled over with one of his hands pressed to his chest.
“Rudy?” she says nervously.
He gives a drawn-out, pathetic-sounding cough. “I—” he starts. Louise watches as he slides down the wall to sit on the floor of the hallway. “I—don’t think I’m okay.”
Louise swallows. “Tina’s gotta be around here somewhere. I’m gonna go and find her,” she says waveringly.
She yanks on the auditorium door—but it has locked behind her. She books it down the hall, turns a corner, expecting to find Tina there, but instead runs into Mr. Frond.
“Louise? I don’t see a hall pass,” he says sternly.
“W-where’s Tina?”
“Probably in class. Like you should be,” answers Mr. Frond exhaustedly. “Is there, by any chance, something I could help you with?”
“Rudy’s having an asthma attack,” Louise says.
Mr. Frond’s eyes fly open, with the rest of his face remaining immobile. “Does he have his…”
“Yes, but it’s not doing anything.”
Their teacher follows Louise down the hall. When she turned the corner, she partly hopes Rudy to have made a full recovery, pacing, waiting for her—completely fine. Nope. He’s slumped over, pale and sweating.
“Louise, please go get Nurse Liz.”
Louise freezes.
“Nevermind—she’ll just make things worse. We’re on our own,” says Mr. Frond, shaking his head. He kneels down. “Rudy, I think it’s time to call an ambulance.”
Instead of protesting, he just nods sadly. Louise is swiftly ushered out of the hallway while Rudy goes to the hospital. Mr. Frond offered to let her speak to “Friend-is-Sick Nick” almost too eagerly, and Louise chose class.
The first thing she does upon getting home is tell her mom so that Linda could do what she does best—calling Rudy’s mom to get the scoop on how he’s doing.
“So. Mom. Mother. What’s the hot goss? The tea? What did Rudy’s mom say?” Louise asks anxiously.
“His father’s just beside himself,” says Linda lamentably. “Your little friend’s gonna be okay—it took a while, but he’s resting now. Probably gonna be in there a couple of days.”
“Mom—we have to go and see him,” says Louise.
Linda adopts a nervous look. “Uh, I don’t know, Louise. His Dad didn’t say nothin’ about visiting.”
“Call him back up and ask him!” she insists. “Just do it, I’ll bet he’ll say yes.”
Bob says, “Louise, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. Rudy needs at least a day or two before you can expect him to be up for seeing you.”
Linda adds, “Yeah, an important lesson about friends is not to impose upon them.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense!” cries Louise. “We’re friends, and he’s gonna wonder where I am.”
“Sweetie. I know you wanna be a good friend, but he’s tired. Once he’s recovered a bit, I’m sure he’d love to see you,” says Linda gently.
* * *
Louise wasn’t super fond of that answer. The very next day she marched herself to the guidance counselor’s office to have a long overdue word with “Friend-is-Sick Nick”, to talk about her feelings and ultimately get her way.
“I feel guilty,” she confesses to Mr. Frond. It wasn’t the biggest lie in the world, truth be told.
“Guilty?” Mr. Frond cocks his humongous head.
“Uh… guilty that I don’t—have asthma,” Louise says hastily.
“Oh, Louise,” coaxes Mr. Frond sweetly. “You can’t possibly feel guilty about that. That’s not something that’s in your control. But, I think it’s just wonderful that you’re beginning to realize that there are other kids out there who have it much worse than you do.”
Then, Mr. Frond had a strongly-worded phone call with the Belcher parents. Suddenly, Louise was now going to visit Rudy at the hospital that Friday.
* * *
When Louise sees him, Rudy has a line of oxygen in his nose and an IV both arms. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, but she wasn’t expecting him to look so…unwell. And very, very tired. Every time he takes a breath, a little wheeze comes out. It’s clear that he’s getting out of breath just talking to her.
Apparently, Rudy’s mom firmly believes that Louise found Rudy in the hallway, and then instantly alerted their teacher to the emergency. She gives Louise a warm welcome and even a hug once she and the Belcher parents arrive.
“Is that what you told her?” says Louise incredulously.
“It’s kind of the truth,” he says.
Under her breath, Louise says desperately, “Rudy, I’m so, so sorry. Maybe if you hadn’t been running around with me all day, hiding in closets and all that, this wouldn’t have happened. I almost got you killed for the second time!”
“No, you didn’t,” Rudy answers lamely. He explains that he wasn’t feeling all the great the morning of and the day before—he reassures Louise that she had little to do with it.
“My asthma is so bad, it was bound to happen anyway. Remember when I was out for almost two weeks, last April?” he asks.
Louise nods, “It was during the spring concert. The band director wanted to kill you. You were here?”
“Basically. I think technically, I was two rooms down.” He pauses a bit, having to cough. “I have some bad news.”
Louise rears her head. “What?”
“I might have to start going to Puber-Tuesday movie night,” says Rudy. “After this hospital visit, my mom’s run out of PTO. So, she can’t pick me up right after school anymore. I’m in for a load of suffering, aren’t I?”
She grinned. “I think next week is supposed to be ‘Hygiene: The Animated Series’.”
“Or, is it, ‘Limiting Screen Time 4’?”
“No, it’s ‘Don’t Bully Other Kids: a rock opera.’”
“‘Seatbelts: The Musical’?”
“‘Bike Safety, the sequel!’—based on a true story.”
“‘Don’t Smoke Drugs!!’”
*end*