7: Riel Tea Party

In which lifeguards are absent and noses are broken.

When I was safely back in my room, tucked into bed with some tea that Mom had made for me so I’d stop swearing (I had a sinking suspicion that she had spiked it), I realized that the button of my pants had come off when I’d pulled the plug and Sheba leapt out, catching it on her collar. This time we’d know for sure she was dead because I was going to kill that mutt.

 

I slurped angrily at my tea, and, in doing so set my mouth on fire. In addition, of course, to the better part of my larynx. I coughed and spluttered, but it was too late. Hopping to my feet, I raced towards the bathroom, one hand holding my numb mouth. Even my teeth were burning. They were like individual little ghosts screaming in my mouth because they’d be doused with hydrochloric acid like my science teacher last Hallowe’en.

 

Without bothering to pull my hair out of the way, I stuck my head under the tap and successfully managed to drown myself (figuratively of course, or I’d be dead right about now, unless of course, some mysterious, albeit gorgeous, lifeguard showed up to save my life, but knowing my luck I’d just get Dad in a Speedo, the sight of which would scar me for life).

 

I straightened up, satisfied that my mouth was no longer feeling as though I’d left it in a forest fire in BC, shook out my hair like a dog, then stopped because I wanted nothing to do with dogs ever again. There’s one good thing about having wet hair, for the short period when it’s actually wet, it doesn’t look nearly as curly as it normally does! I smiled in a self-satisfied way before I started to choke on spit.

 

I coughed and spluttered, gasping for breath. I could practically feel my eyes bugging out of my head like some sort of Pomeranian’s. Ugh, I hate those things and I was going to die like a little ankle-humping puffball!

 

There was the sound of quickly moving elephant feet in the hallway and Aaron appeared at the door. “Ava, you alright?”

 

I coughed particularly hard at him. I knew I wasn’t really choking, but it helped to pretend.

 

“Ava?” He looked genuinely concerned; it was so adorable. “Ava, seriously.” He paused for a few moments. “Ava?” He leaned forward and cuffed me sharply between the shoulder blades, sending me flying nose first into the counter.

 

Needless to say, I only coughed harder when I felt the blood gush down my face and into my mouth. The entire process was rather counterproductive of Aaron.

 

The doctor was really very nice about the whole thing. Fortunately, he wasn’t one of those abnormally attractive doctors that make you wonder if they worked in plastic surgery as part of their residency and volunteered themselves as practice dummies instead of the usual, wrinkly old dead person. Ahem, elderly cadaver. Dr Warren looked more like one of those kindly young dads who likes to take their toddlers on insanely hard hiking trips on weekends and laugh at them when they fall down ravines. Or maybe that was just my dad, I dunno. Anyways, he had to have the patience of a saint, because when he leaned forward the first time to try and set my nose I accidentally sniffed a little too much of his cologne and sneezed, getting blood everywhere and he didn’t yell at me.

 

Nor did he yell at me when I started to shriek in agony and swear like a sailor because it felt like I’d expelled a bowling ball out of my misaligned nostrils. He didn’t even get mad when I swore again when he tried to set my nose and actually got his hands on it. Although by the third time he called in a big, burly male nurse to help tie me to the bed so he could fix my face. Who cares if I swallowed gallons of my own blood, I’ll happily be a vampire as they’re rather popular right now.

 

“Just take some Tylenol to help with any pain and ice your eyes to try to stop the bruising,” advised Dr Warren, smiling kindly at me while I eased myself off the hospital bed, gingerly prodding my cheeks, which had begun to hurt, too. “And watch out for doors, eh?”

 

I nodded and Dad thanked him. I’d lied about Aaron knocking me into the counter. It wasn’t to be a nice little sister and not paint him in the light of an evil older brother, but instead for blackmail material. To get back at him for the time he’d decided to mention how I’d peed my pants before getting on a waterslide when I was younger. In front of his friends. The same ones, in fact, that I’d managed to pants myself in front of earlier. I’m never going to be able to face them again. Not that I usually can, anyways, I just get a whole lot of chest when I go to say something.

 

Dad interrupted my train of thought when he turned to me as I was getting in the car, and asked how I was feeling.

 

“I’ve decided that all jocks need to have their legs cut off at the knee to be used as stilts for us shorter people. That’ll even things out,” I announced.

 

I could see in the rear view mirror that Aaron was staring at me, and I couldn’t help but notice that he’d moved his legs to fit behind the seat in front of him.

 

“I’m sorry, what was the question?”

 

Dad just laughed and shook his head. Aaron whimpered in the back seat.