American Panda(67)

“Shit,” Nic said between chattering teeth. “You must’ve caught a jagged edge of limestone on your way down.”

I used my hand to shield the blood from view. “If you make a joke about my underwear, I swear to God I’ll find a way to grow real claws.”

Nic forced a smile. No laugh. Crap. It must be pretty bad.

“Let’s get you downstairs before the numbness from the cold wears off,” she said in a tight voice.

“Great, so we’ll just leave my DNA all over the crime scene.”

“We didn’t commit any crimes. . . . Well, not really. And it’s supposed to snow later anyway.”

I looped an arm around her shoulder. Her wavy hair was frozen with wayward icicles, and they snapped at my biceps like Medusa’s snakes.

“Mei, I think you need stitches. I’ll call Student Health. EMS can give us a ride.”

“No! They’re the worst! They’re going to do more harm than good!”

Nic rolled her eyes. “They can’t be so incompetent they don’t know how to give you stitches.”

“Oh yes they can! Trust me.”

“Well, where else are we supposed to go? You don’t want to just bleed all over our room all night, do you?”

Annoyingly, she had a point. I wanted to ask her if she would come with me, but her tight grip around my waist answered my question. I reluctantly agreed.

Ten minutes later, at the entrance of the Infinite, flashing lights appeared. The student EMT exploded from the back of the ambulance like a firefighter. I shrank down in embarrassment. No burning building or children to save—just sad little ol’ me with a scratch on my thigh. I grabbed the flap of my torn pants to cover Hello Kitty.

When the EMT was close enough for me to make out his features, my jaw dropped. “You?”

“At least you have underwear on this time?” He forced a laugh. “Glad your rash cleared up.”

I wanted to disappear.

Nic stared at me with wide eyes. “What haven’t you told me?”

“Oh my God, it’s not what you think. He walked in on me in the bathroom once.”

He leaned down toward my crotch. “Let me take a look.”

I inched backward, and a sharp pain shot down my leg. I winced. The numbness was wearing off.

He looked at me warily. “I’ve already seen you naked. And I’m a medical professional.”

I sighed and gave in, dropping the flap and flashing Hello Kitty.

He pushed the fabric aside and blotted with gauze. “So how did this happen?”

“Dancing,” I said at the same time Nic said, “Rock climbing.”

He raised an eyebrow at us. “It could be medically relevant. What were you doing?”

“She was trying to dance while on the rock wall, okay? You got to peek at her goods again, you perv, so congratulations. Now can you get her to the real medical professional?”

He blushed as red as my old rash (and maybe I did too).

We loaded into the ambulance and tore away, sirens screaming. I felt like they were announcing to the world, Here’s the biggest baby! She can’t handle a little blood!

At MIT Medical, we settled into the waiting room. One student beside me held a bag of frozen peas against his ankle while another held a carton of Ben and Jerry’s to his temple.

My gaze met theirs and the ice-cream man said, “Chair surfing.”

Nicolette nodded in approval.

“We’ve been here for three hours,” Pea Boy added.

Nic looked right, then left, and seeing no employees, she darted down the Urgent Care corridor. I yelled after her, but she either didn’t hear or didn’t care. Probably the latter.

Twenty minutes later she returned with a wheelchair and carted me off to an examination room, where Dr. Chang was waiting.

With a sour look on her face, Dr. Chang took a deliberate step to distance herself from Nicolette.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Nic said with an eye roll. As she walked away, I heard her mumble, “Jesus, and she knows I don’t fucking have chlamydia anymore.”

Thank. God.

Dr. Chang prepared the anesthetic for the stitches that she had determined were needed. Trying to distract myself from the twenty-two gauge that would be in my leg soon, I asked her, “Fish anything out of the toilet lately?”

To my surprise, she laughed, which shocked me so much I didn’t even feel the pinch.



Around ten the next morning, I fought my exhaustion and dragged myself to 77 Mass Ave. Nic’s friend had to hack—traditional definition—to get Darren’s schedule, and this was the only time he’d be crossing in front of the little dome.

The ground was dusted with a white layer that crunched beneath my UGG knockoffs. Luckily, there wasn’t enough snow to cover our hack, but there was enough to cover my DNA on the roof, as Nic had promised.

The passersby pointed at what Nic and I had added atop the dome’s apex, but I barely registered their reactions. Instead, I was scanning for that spiky hair that made my heart beat faster.

I stamped my feet to stay warm. Then, finally, the jagged outline. The class-to-class traffic thinned, leaving just the two of us amid a couple stragglers. When the recognition dawned on his face, he stopped in his tracks, staring with so much intensity he didn’t notice me sidling up.