Page 81 of Clinically Awkward

“I have an appointment,” Nathan blurted out, his voice slightly higher than normal.

I stared at him. Nathan, who never interrupted anyone. Nathan, who planned everything weeks in advance. Nathan, who was currently sweating.

“An appointment,” I repeated, my voice dripping with skepticism.

“Yes. A very important appointment. With a... specialist.” He was fidgeting with his phone now, refusing to make eye contact.

“What kind of specialist?”

“A reptile specialist. For Ester. She’s been looking... scaly.”

“She’s an iguana.”

“Exactly. Very concerning. Could be a skin condition. Or molting issues. The vet said it could be serious if left untreated.” Nathan was really committing to this now, nodding along with his own lies.

“Nathan—”

“I’m not feeling well,” Hayden announced suddenly, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like a Victorian lady about to faint.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“You’re not feeling well,” I said slowly, crossing my arms.

“No. I think I’m coming down with something. Probably the flu. Or pneumonia. Maybe both. Definitely contagious. You probably shouldn’t stand too close.” He took a theatrical step backward, as if to protect me from his imaginary germs. “I should go home and rest. Doctor’s orders. My doctor. Who I’m also going to see. Right now.”

“You were fine thirty seconds ago.”

“It came on very suddenly. That’s how these things work, Quinton. One minute you’re fine; the next, you’re practically at death’s door.” He coughed weakly for effect. It was possibly the least convincing cough I’d ever heard.

“Hayden—”

“Right then,” Fitz said, already backing toward the door with the grace of a man who had been planning his exit strategy since the moment he walked in. “Best of luck, Quinton. You’ll do brilliantly. Probably. Well, maybe. We’ll see.”

“Fitz—”

“We believe in you,” Gabriel added, also edging toward the exit while avoiding eye contact. His jacket was already half on. “You’re incredibly capable. Competent. You’ve got all the skills necessary for this. Most of them, anyway.”

“Gabriel—”

“You’ve got this,” Nathan said, his hand already on the doorknob. There was genuine panic in his eyes now, like a trapped animal who’d just spotted an opening.

“Nathan—”

“Don’t die,” Hayden said helpfully, giving me a cheerful thumbs up.

And then they bolted. All four of them. At the exact same time. Like they’d rehearsed it. Like they had planned this whole charade during some secret meeting I hadn’t been invited to. The door swung open, then shut, then open again as they practically trampled each other trying to escape, a tangle of limbs and muttered apologies, and someone—I think it was Fitz—actually yelped. And then they were gone. The door clicked shut. Silence.

I stood there, holding the patient files that suddenly felt much heavier, staring at the closed door. The door that had just swallowed my so-called support system.

They left me. They actually left me. My best friends—the people I trusted most in the world, the people who’d swore just last night that we were in this together—just abandoned me. Thrown me to the wolves. Fed me to the lions. Left me to face this nightmare alone.

And the worst part? I would have done exactly the same thing if I had thought of it first.

I turned slowly to look at Vivian, who was covering her mouth with one hand, her shoulders shaking. “Are you laughing?” I asked.

“No,” she said, her voice muffled.

“You’re absolutely laughing.”