Chapter 2: 2

"You're the only one I can ask for . You're the one who knows Jason best."

 

Carl scratched his head and looked like he didn't want to be there. "You're putting me in a difficult position, Harry. You know how Jason is."

 

I know.

 

He was a living beast. The raw strength of two adults, the agility of an athlete, and the sharp instincts of a fighter. And it's all backed up with uncontrollable emotions.

 

One wrong word and your life is no more.

 

And "lucky for me," I was put in a group with him to work on the final project. "It's also for his own good; he'll get it." Jason did have three friends, or maybe he saw them more as his subordinates, but I could only count on Carl.

 

We've known each other since we were in grade school. Our homes are next to each other. Even though our relationship has been a little rocky lately, I'm glad that he hasn't changed too much in his attitude.

 

"I'll do what I  can."

 

I took a deep breath of relief. I said, "That's my friend!" as I tried to give him a light punch in the shoulder.

 

But Carl turned down my hand right away in a cold way. "Hey, asshole," he said, this time with a little bit of anger and disgust. "I told you not to be so friendly with me at school."

 

People do change over time, that's for sure. Even if it's just a little. "O-Of course," I said, wracked with a fear I didn't understand.

 

This was just Carl. The little brat who always got caught by me first when we played chase. Why am I so creeped out by his intimidation?

 

No, no, no. It's not the same Carl. Hanging out with the wrong people influenced his behavior like now.

 

"Wilson~" someone called from behind.

 

Carl turned his head right away. Waving at the person who had called him. David Dwight is Jason's least important goon.

 

He didn't say goodbye. Instead, he gave me a making threats look as if to say, "Mark my words!" and then walked towards him.

 

"What the heck is that? So  you hang out with that nerd now?"

 

"I'm just collecting my assignment. I told him to finish it yesterday."

 

"Well, well. You finally know how to use him properly."

 

"Hahaha."

 

Those bastards! I can still hear you, you know.

 

Seeing how Carl was with them, I wondered if my request just now would be delivered.

 

*#*

 

As usual, the hospital hallway was busy when I walked into it.

 

People lined up waiting for medicine, a crying baby, and even a group of nurses pacing back and forth in confusion.

 

It made sense that this was the only hospital in town. Baldside isn't too remote, but the land--despite its size--the land doesn't have any valuable resources that can be taken out.

 

So, that's why there isn't a lot of big money coming here. Since there are no investors, the jobs that are available are not very interesting. The pay is, in fact, less than what you'd get in a big city. With a low income, there won't be any good tax sources. Even in the government, there are smart people who won't waste their time on something that doesn't make them any money.

 

Room number 113. Room number 113.

 

Ah, here we are. "WAAAA!"

 

I was so shocked I almost fell over. "Mrs. Butterwell!" The middle-aged woman in the wheelchair laughed at what happened to me because of what she did. "So... you think it's fun to work on me, huh?"

 

At the end of her laugh, the woman gave a small dry cough. Huh, feel it!

 

"Someone your age should be more careful. You never know when or where danger will strike."

 

"Certainly not from you, right?" I gave a head shake. She and three other patients shared a room with my mom. "How's my mom doing? Is she getting better?"

 

"When I see her, I wish I were young again."

 

"Haven't you been through that?" I shouted out with excitement, which was a good sign. I put on a happy face and walked in without further ado. But before I could go any further, Mrs. Butterwell pulled on my shirt and stopped me. "So, what trick will you play on me this time?" I asked, kinda annoyed by how much she was acting like a child, what is it about getting older that makes everyone so needy of attention?

 

"I don't think now is a good time to go see her," the woman said.

 

Ah, I see. So this is how it works. "I won't be fooled again, Mrs. Butterwell," I said.

 

"I mean it. A nurse came to her, and they were discussing something important," Mrs. Butterwell said, adamant.

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I think could still see how her wrinkled cheeks puckered up as she tried not to laugh. I wasn't going to be fooled again. So, I reached out and gently pulled her hand off of my shirt. "After this, I'll take you for a walk, but first I need to see my mom, okay?"

 

After that, Mrs. Butterwell seemed to call out and say other words, but they seemed to be expletives I shouldn't have bothered with.

 

This hospital room was so crowded  that it made me sick, but it was all we could afford.

 

There were six beds in this room, which wasn't much bigger than 15 square meters.

 

Three of them were occupied by an accident victim with a broken leg, an old man with dementia who kept falling asleep and babbling, and a girl my age .

 

On the other side, Mother and Mrs. Butterwell were sitting next to each other.

 

I thought about putting her in the VIP room, which is just for one patient, so she could sleep more quietly, but Mom quickly said no.

 

She said it didn't really matter. The food and facilities would still be the same anyway. She told me instead to save money and take better care of myself.

 

What kind of advice was that? 

 

"...that's what we're suggesting. It's for your own good too."

 

Huh? This time, Mrs. Butterwell wasn't lying. A nurse was talking to Mom face-to-face, and it looked like they were talking about something important. "What's happening?" I asked, immediately.

 

The nurse just gave me a sympathetic look, then turned her gaze back to Mom. "Please give this some thought." She got up and walked away after that.

 

Something didn't smell right. "Just now, what were you doing?"

 

Mom gave a head shake. "Not something you should bother about."

 

That wasn't convincing at all. "I'm no longer a child, Mom. I can tell you are lying."

 

Mom just gave me a bitter smile. "Did you eat? Today, the food at the hospital was good, but you know how your mom's stomach works." She gave me a tray with pepper rice and sausage slices on it, a fruit salad that had barely been touched, and half a glass of tomato juice.

 

"What? You can't do this. You need to eat to get better." I took the tray away from her, but not to eat what was on it. I reached for the bowl of pepper rice, took a spoonful, and then gave one to Mom. "Come on, already! The plane is landing."

 

"Harry, stop. You know, it's embarrassing, "Mom said with a laugh and a blush.

 

"Why be embarrassed? Only Mrs. Butterwell will be able to see." I gave a small smile. "So? Do you want this plane to run out of fuel and blow up in the air, or do you want it to land safely?"

 

Mom just shook her head and then finally spoke.

 

I gave her a smile as a bribe. "Good girl."

 

Mom laughed as she chewed.

 

When the silly parade was over and Mom had drunk all of her juice, she grabbed my shoulder out of the blue.

 

"Hey," said Mom. She looked like she was about to say something so hard that I couldn't guess what it was. Even she had to take a long break. "You know you're a good boy, right?"

 

I snorted in amusement. "What is it now?"

 

Mom said nothing. She... was waiting for me to reply? Tsk! Okay, okay. She wants to get back at me because I put her down, huh? "Yes, yes. I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy."

 

"I'm glad to hear that. But, Harry, hear me out: the world isn't nice. Sometimes, things get us down and make us question everything we've always believed. If that happens, I hope you'll stay true to your beliefs. Hold on to it so you don't get lost, all right?"

 

What the hell was that? Instead of feeling enlightened, I just got another bad feeling. But, surprisingly, the answer I gave was so flat. "Of course."

 

*#*

 

"Your mother's condition is getting worse."

 

As I had feared.

 

"Based on what the doctor found, the tumor is getting worse. It will be very dangerous if it isn't taken away soon."

 

"I get it," I said with no energy. When I saw them talking earlier this afternoon, a prejudice jumped out at me like a ghost. Again, it turned out to be true.

 

"Dr. Reyes can suggest a good hospital and doctor for her care."

 

"How much?"

 

"What?"

 

I looked up to try to get ready for what was happening. "How much should I expect to pay?"

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