Page 134 of Depraved Boys

My eyes narrowed. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“On that Monday night, I wanted to drive you to the Accident and Emergency department of the Cumberland Royal Infirmary, but you said you’d wait for the doctor.”

“Oh. What happened next?”

His face shuttered. “You insisted on staying alone.”

An uncomfortable, prickly heat rose to my cheeks, and I dropped my gaze to my feet. That had been incredibly stupid. “Right…”

“Would you object this time if I escort you to the doctor?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’d appreciate all the help I can get right now.”

We found Dr. Forrester outside the biology room, chatting with a group of fifth years about what kinds of subjects might be in the GCSE exams next term. He took one look at me and ushered me into a seat in his classroom. Posters of skeletons, the musculature, and nervous systems adorned the wall, as did a model of a skeleton too colorful to be real.

After asking a few questions about my vomiting and memory loss, the doctor opened up his leather bag, pulled out a light, and shone it in my eyes. “Let’s take a look at your pupil reflexes.”

“Very good.” He switched off the light. “Which painkillers have you been taking?”

“Chinese herbs during the day and paracetamol at night, so the pain doesn’t bother me when I’m trying to sleep.”

Dr. Forrester leaned back and folded his arms. “Well, there’s your answer.”

“Sir?” I tilted my head to the side.

The doctor mirrored my movement. “What ingredients were in these ‘herbs?’”

My brows drew together. Because Master Chang was a medical doctor who also practiced Traditional Chinese Medicine and operated out of Harley Street, it had never occurred to me to question the ingredients in his formula. Especially since he had examined me more thoroughly than any of the medical doctors had at the Royal Infirmary.

Dr. Forrester drummed his fingers on the table, awaiting my answer.

“I don’t know, sir.”

He made exaggerated finger quotes. “Did the ‘doctor’ perform any blood tests? Discuss drug-herb interactions?”

“No, but—”

“You mustn’t put your faith in quackery, young lady.”

I jerked my head to the side and swallowed hard. My insides felt as though someone had scrubbed them raw with steel wool, and acid burned the back of my throat.

Even though the Chinese herbs had gotten me through the day without headaches or drowsiness, I didn’t bother to argue with Dr. Forrester. Medicine—alternative or otherwise—wasn’t my specialty.

“Sir?” I cleared my throat. “Mrs. Benazir wants me to retain a ninety percent grade average, but the medications I was prescribed make me drowsy. What should I do?”

“Have you heard of ProPlus?” he asked.

I leaned forward. “The caffeine tablets?”

“Many scholars take it on an all-nighter.” He chuckled. “I’ve been known to pop it a few times, myself. Order yourself a pack from Amazon, and add two tablets three times a day to your regimen. You’ll be as right as rain.”

My shoulders slumped. I’d actually felt more alert on the Chinese herbs than I’d felt since the accident, and going back to the prescriptions filled my stomach with dread.

“What happens if I take fewer of the tablets I was prescribed?”

He shrugged. “You don’t have to take them at all if you can manage the pain without them.”

“Thanks, sir.” I pulled myself to my feet and walked to the door. Maybe it was time to cut the painkillers and the Chinese herbs and see if I could survive without them.