Thrill Seekers (13 page)

My head has stopped spinning and now fear runs through my whole body in
the place of the pain. The male cop walks back into the room and flashes his partner a strange look. I stand up and push the woman cop’s hand off my arm. “I’m going to see Mai-Ling. We’re done here!”

I start towards the door, but the constable’s stern tone stops me dead. “We will have to do a drug test. You’re not leaving until that is done.”

I turn back. “You didn’t tell me that before. Is that a threat?”

She shakes her head. “We need to make sure you’re not at risk.”

“Of what?”

“Some serious reaction. Like
Mai-Ling’
s”

“But I’m fine!”

“It’s the law.”

“What law?”

The guy is shaking his head again and she is giving him a really dirty look. I suddenly get that they can’t make me do anything, and she is just pushing me around because she feels like it.

“There’s no law. I’m under-age so you’d have to get my father to okay it first, wouldn’t you?”

The fog is lifting and I’m starting to think straight. Suddenly I’m wondering why the fuck I’m talking to these two anyway. What possible help is any of this to Mai-Ling? They know what she took, where she took it and the rest is just bullshit. I reckon the guy cop is thinking exactly the same, and it’s this stupid bitch who has been watching way too much
CSI
and thinks she’s some kind of
who knows what
that’s keeping me here.

“So, are you arresting me or something?”

She keeps it up. “No, not at this stage but we do need a blood sample before you go.”

I am getting out of my seat now and no-one is stopping me. “In that case, I’m leaving. You want a blood sample? You can wait until my dad gets here and ask him.”

As I storm out, I can feel the tension between the two of them. I glance back and they have already started at each other.

Back in the waiting room, suddenly I’m sweating again. The water I drank before has helped but now I am feeling worse than ever. My head is aching and I need to sit down. My legs go to jelly as I reach for a seat. Shit, everything’s gone black …

I am sitting in one of the plastic chairs but I don’t remember how I got here. One of the nurses is taking my blood pressure. She smiles at me as she takes the monitor off my arm.

“Am I alright?”

“It’s perfect. You can sit here as long as you need to.”

As she stands up I grab her arm, “
Mai-Ling,
my friend, I came here with her. I need to see her.”

She looks at me like she is trying to put a face to a name, “Is she a young Vietnamese girl?”

At last, someone who can tell me what is going on.

“Yes! Can I see her? Is she going to be alright?”

Her face says it all. “Sorry but you’ll have to talk to the doctor about that.”

“Which doctor? Where can I find the doctor?”

“Your friend is very sick. The doctors are still with her.”

“But she’ll be okay, right?”

Christ, the look on the nurse’s face is horrible. It totally throws me and I start to panic.

“Right?”

I am insisting that she talks to me but she just stares back at me with a
prepare-yourself
- for-the-worst face. Or worse, that you-have-no-idea-how-serious-this-is face. Oh God, I want to wipe that look right off her face.

“RIGHT?”

I am pleading with her now. I need her to tell me that it is all going to be fine, but she’s just staring at me. Tears are streaming down my face as I fumble for the words that I don’t want to say.

“She’s not going to die, is she?” They tumble out of my mouth anyway. “Is she?” I keep staring at her, “Is she?” Her hand’s on my shoulder and she’s shaking her head. Jesus!

Slowly, she says, “No-one knows yet. Your friend is still unconscious. The doctor will let you know if there is any change.”

She takes her hand off my shoulder and leaves me sobbing. I can feel the eyes of the whole waiting room on me. Oh God, this can’t be happening, there has to be a mistake, there has to be …

Edwina Shaw is a an emerging Australian writer with several short stories published in journals and collections. Two of her pieces were shortlisted for Australia’s prestigious Josephine Ulrick Literature Prize. She is also an experienced teacher and holds a BA in English and a Masters in Creative Writing.

She has taught maths to young offenders, English to migrants and refugees, opened a private English language school in Cambodia, and now teaches yoga and creative writing to adults and high school children. Thrill Seekers is dedicated to the memory of her brother Matthew, who developed schizophrenia and committed suicide at the age of twenty. It is her first full-length novel.