Chapter 6: Nurse and Teacher
December 3rd, 1991. Day Eleven. Marissa played a trick on Cliff and Mark today. She set up Mark’s phone to call Mr. Henson over and over again. She told Mr. Henson and Mr. Wilson what she did. I don’t know if she got in trouble or not, but Mr. Henson walked away like he was still mad. I was at home today. I was going crazy from boredom and slept out in the clubhouse all afternoon.
I don’t know who is reading this in the future but I couldn’t tell Marissa because I thought she would get mad. Mark asked me to go to the dance last month. I said yes. I haven’t told Becky either, because she would probably feel bad because she doesn’t have a date yet. I wonder if that is why Mark stayed home from school today, so he could come over and say hi, but he couldn’t because my Mom was home all day?
Dr. Ginger walked into the room, followed by the nurse Samantha had kicked. The nurse had her arm in a thick cast held up by a sling over her shoulder. The moment she stepped in the room she glared at Samantha. Samantha looked surprised she was there and she could tell by the look on her Dad’s face that he was surprised as well.
“Hello Samantha,” Dr. Ginger said, “How do you feel today?”
“I feel fine. I felt good yesterday too.”
“Yes? That’s wonderful news. I asked your father to bring you in this morning as a precaution. If you’re feeling good then I imagine this will be quick.”
“How is your arm, Nurse Wishon,” Thomas asked.
“It feels better after I take some pills,” Nurse Wishon said, frowning.
“We’re both very sorry about the accident the other day,” Thomas said, “Samantha felt really bad about it.”
“Did you Samantha,” Nurse Wishon asked.
“Yes. I’m sorry I hurt your arm,” Samantha said.
Nurse Wishon glared at her again, looking hard at Samantha’s eyes. Dr. Ginger had turned to face a small desk to review a pile of papers. Without turning to look at Samantha she asked, “So you’ve had no more headaches?”
“No Doctor.”
“Not even a little one?”
“No.”
“What about nausea, particularly when you lie or sit down quickly?”
“Nope.”
“And dizziness, again when you lie or sit down?”
“No.”
“What about fatigue? Have you been sleeping more?”
“Well, I guess I feel asleep yesterday afternoon but I think it was because I was bored.”
Dr. Ginger smiled, continuing to write on Samantha’s chart. The nurse walked towards Samantha, positioning a stethoscope with her one free hand.
“Nurse Wishon, could you please….oh yes. Thank you.”
Nurse Wishon moved the stethoscope inside Samantha’s shirt and listened carefully. The stethoscope was very cold and Samantha jerked back from its touch.
“Please stay still,” Nurse Wishon whispered harshly.
Samantha froze as Nurse Wishon gave her a mean little smile. Thomas had walked over to Dr. Ginger and was looking at the charts on her desk. The nurse finished with the stethoscope and called out, “80 a minute.” She picked up a blood pressure meter and turned back to Samantha.
“Roll up your sleeve.”
Samantha rolled her left shirtsleeve above her bicep. She looked at her Dad, who was having a whispered conversation with Dr. Ginger. The nurse pumped the blood pressure meter until it hurt. Samantha winced and looked at the nurse, who appeared intent only on Samantha’s arm. The nurse pumped the meter a few more times and Samantha had to bite down to keep from crying out. Her right hand flexed involuntarily. Finally Nurse Wishon looked up at Samantha and flashed an ugly smile. She squeezed the bulb two more times. Samantha’s hand was numb. Tingles ran up and down her arm as she became desperate to stop the pressure. The nurse noticed the stiffening of Samantha’s posture and backed away. She started releasing the pressure in the bulb and listened through the stethoscope beneath the meter.
Samantha’s heartbeat resonated throughout the length of her arm, spreading pins and needles across her skin. Then it was over and Nurse Wishon removed the meter from Samantha’s bicep. The bicep skin was an ugly purple and each line of fabric from the strap was clearly visible. Samantha rolled her sleeve down. What should she do, she wondered. The nurse walked to Dr. Ginger and Thomas, who were still talking in whispers. Thomas was rubbing his hand over his lower back as he talked.
“120 over 80, Dr. Ginger,” Nurse Wishon said.
“That’s wonderful.”
Thomas stopped talking and looked at Samantha, who felt more confused than upset by what had happened. She didn’t know if she should say anything. Would anyone believe her if she did?
“Well, Samantha,” Dr. Ginger said. “I think you’re ready to head back to school. You can even go this afternoon if you’d like.”
Samantha, in her excitement at not having to sit around the house again, forgot about the pain in her bicep. She got off the table and walked to the door. Thomas said goodbye to Dr. Ginger and the nurse. The nurse smiled at Thomas but the smile disappeared as soon as he turned away. Her smile changed to a look of pure dislike.
Samantha and Thomas walked out of the office and she started to massage her left bicep with her right hand. Thomas looked at her and smiled.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better, sweetie. Hopefully we don’t have to be back there for awhile.”
Samantha looked at her Dad closely. If she was going to tell him about what the nurse did, now was the time. She decided not to because her Dad was right. These visits were her first trips to the doctor’s office in over a year and there was no reason to think she would be back anytime soon. Hopefully she would never see Nurse Wishon again.
Thomas dropped her off at the front of the school and said he would pick her up at the usual time. It was strange, being at school with everything so quiet. She realized she had rarely been on campus, outside of a classroom, when the halls weren’t filled with students.
Samantha walked slowly to the cafeteria and went inside. All she could hear were the school cooks laughing in the back of the kitchen. There were three of them; large, strong looking women. Samantha had never seen any of them without a hair net. She got to her classroom door, took a deep breath, and went inside. The first thing she saw upon opening the door was Mr. Stillson, standing on the back counter with his head near the ceiling. The students were turned around in their seats, looking at him. Mr. Stillson looked up when he heard the door and saw her. He beckoned with his arms, causing several of the students to turn in their seats to see who was there. Samantha saw Mark turn around and smile.
“Ms. Branson! Come in. I’ve been showing the class what adverbs are!”
Samantha laughed and walked to her seat in the back of the classroom. She noticed her chair was away from her desk and near the counter. Mr. Stillson noticed too and jumped off the counter to get it for her.
“Sorry,” he said, grinning, “I needed it to get up on the counter.”
Samantha took her seat and opened her desk to get pencil and paper. As she did she noticed that Mink, who had pushed back from his desk to watch Mr. Stillson, was wearing much nicer clothes than usual. Mr. Stillson had moved closer to the front of the class.
“OK. We’ve done climb slowly. And we’ve done jump gently. We’ve done fall downwardly. There is only one left. I need to jump all the way to the top of the counter with no help. Do you think I can do it?”
“No,” said the class.
“Sure he can,” Mink said, “It isn’t that high.”
“Not high,” Mr. Stillson said loudly “The counter is forty seven inches tall next to the sink. That was the section I was talking about. Do you think I can jump onto it there Mink?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Well, what adverb should we use in this situation?”
“Um, how about fall hilariously,” Mink said.
The class laughed. Mr. Stillson looked at him.
“I??
?m confused. You said I could make it,” Mr. Stillson said. “And now you have me falling? Who else has one better than Mink?”
“Jump vertically,” Marsha Swanson suggested.
“Good.”
“Jump violently,” Kelvin said.
“Leap upwardly,” said Mark.
“How about fly soaringly,” Becky said, and more people laughed.
“Leap jumpingly,” Mink said.
“What about you Samantha,” Mr. Stillson asked. “What do you have for us?”
Samantha felt her face growing red as everyone turned to look at her. She couldn’t think of anything and Mink started kicking at the legs of her chair to make her more nervous. She looked at the counter and she saw how high it looked and how easily she could jump to it herself. Without thinking she said, “Leap simply.” The class laughed and Mr. Stillson smiled.
“Leap simply? That sounds like a self help book.” Nobody in the class laughed except for Kelvin, who started giggling.
“Still, I like the sound of that one. Now watch class. Here’s an adverb in action. I will leap simply to the high counter by the faucet.”
He backed up to the classroom door and started running. Becky covered her eyes with her hands and Mink started chanting, “Fall! Fall! Fall! Fall!” Mr. Stillson started his jump about ten feet from the counter, tucking his legs upward so his knees were nearly to his chest. The soles of his feet hit the counter edge and the momentum of his body brought him to a standing position on top of the counter. The class started clapping, except for Mink, who looked disappointed.
Since she had not arrived at school until almost noon the day seemed too quick to Samantha. The last bell rang, catching her by surprise, and school was over. All the students gathered their belongings, talking excitedly about their plans for the weekend. Kelvin was the first student to approach the door but Mr. Stillson was standing in front of it, blocking his escape.
“Listen up everyone,” he said over the noise. The class slowly quieted and he nodded.
“I almost forgot. Your homework this weekend is a two-page story discussing your parent’s jobs. Write anything you want. Fiction. History. Whatever. But your parent’s jobs are the main topic. The paper is due Monday morning. All right?”
There were groans from the class but nobody asked any questions. Mr. Stillson stepped away from the door and kids streamed into the cafeteria. Samantha tried to catch up to Marissa but Marissa was hurrying after Cliff, so Samantha slowed down. Becky walked toward her, smiling.
“I got a hundred on my test the other day!”
“Good job Becky.”
“Have you taken yours yet?”
“No, Mr. Stillson didn’t say anything. He probably didn’t expect me to be here today.”
“So you’re alright again right? What happened that day?”
“I don’t know. The doctor thinks it was a migraine.”
“Oh yeah,” Becky said. “My Mom gets those. When she does she has to go lie in her room with all the lights out and none of us are allowed to talk to her. So, do you want to do anything this weekend?”
“Sure. I want to maybe start on a new tunnel out in the bamboo, unless it is raining.”
“Wow! We haven’t worked on a new tunnel in a long time. When do you want to do it? Should we spend the night?”
“I don’t know about staying the night. My Mom is still worried that I’ll get sick again or something. I don’t think she’d let me go anywhere or let you guys come over.”
“That’s too bad. We got a new VCR and TV today. I’m going to go get a bunch of movies tonight and stay up late watching them.”
“That sounds fun,” Samantha said. “I wish I could come over and do that too.”
Samantha walked towards the door, knowing her Dad would be waiting for her. Becky started to follow.
“Ms. Branson,” Mr. Stillson called. “Could you please stay behind for a moment?”
Samantha groaned.
“I bet it’s about your test,” Becky whispered and Samantha nodded.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe you can come over around eleven?”
“Yeah, sounds good. Bye Samantha.”
Samantha walked to Mr. Stillson’s desk and sat down on a desk across from him. He finished writing a few notes on the top page of a bunch of sheets stapled together, stuffed the papers into his backpack, and looked up at Samantha.
“I’m glad you’re back at school today Samantha.”
“I wanted to be,” she said. “It’s boring at home when you can’t go outside or anything.”
“I agree. And I heard you had trouble at the doctor’s office that afternoon when you got sick. What happened? Your Mom didn’t tell me too much.”
“I accidentally kicked the nurse when she was testing my reflexes. She got hurt.”
“Did she? Did she make you mad,” Mr. Stillson asked.
“Um, yeah. She did. How did you know?”
“Just a guess,” he said, laughing.
Samantha looked at him carefully, wondering why he wasn’t asking about the test. He was flipping the pen around in his left hand and looking at her closely. She started to feel nervous but didn’t know why. She really liked Mr. Stillson. Had she done something wrong?
“Did you want to talk to me about the test,” Samantha asked, finally.
“Test? Oh, that thing. Don’t worry about it. I won’t count this one for anybody in the class. They took it right after you… you started feeling bad and nobody could concentrate. Except for your friend Becky, that is.”
“Oh.”
Mr. Stillson stopped talking and again looked at her directly. Samantha became even more nervous, wondering if she should get up and leave. Was he done talking to her? Samantha shifted uncomfortably on the desk and Mr. Stillson seemed to stir.
“Yes. Well, I don’t want to keep you. I imagine your father is waiting to pick you up. I’m glad you’re feeling well again Samantha and I hope this weekend is great.”
Samantha got off the desk, grabbed her backpack, and hurried to the door. She reached the doorway and he said. “Oh yes, one last thing Samantha. When I was going to ‘Leap Simply’, did you think I was going to make the jump?”
Completely surprised by the question, Samantha stopped. Without thinking she said, “I don’t know. It seemed like you knew you would.”
He laughed. “I guess I did. And I guess you knew that I knew. Have a good weekend Samantha.”
Samantha nodded and ran out of the classroom, out of the cafeteria. She glanced backwards to verify Mr. Stillson wasn’t following, wanting to ask her another strange question. She saw her Dad standing at the school office doorway. She ran to him.
“Dad! I’m here.”
He turned and saw her, smiling.
“What took you so long?”
“Mr. Stillson wanted to talk to me after class.”
They walked to the car.
“Did he want you to catch up on any homework,” Thomas asked.
“No. He was kind of weird. He was asking if I was feeling alright.”
“He’s quite a teacher, that man. I was really happy he won teacher of the year a few years ago.”
Samantha would have agreed when the week started, but the way he looked at her after class was unnerving and she wasn’t sure if she liked him as much as she did before. They got in the car and headed home.
They were almost to their house when Samantha spotted a light green car in their driveway.
“Is Grandpa over for dinner,” Samantha asked.
“Oh yeah,” Thomas replied. “I forgot to tell you he was coming over.”
They pulled into the driveway and the car scrapped against the cement with a muted crunch, as it always did. As soon as the car stopped Samantha opened the door and ran up to the house, leaving her backpack behind. Thomas laughed, walked around to the other side of the car, and picked her backpack off the floorboard. The zipper was not shut completely and a piece of paper floated out a
s he closed the car door. He picked the paper up and glanced at Samantha’s hurried writing. Write two pages about parent’s job. What am I supposed to write about?
Thomas frowned and stuffed the paper into her backpack, zipped it closed, and walked to the house himself.