Uh-oh.
“Mason?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I answer. “Uh, it’s in the summer, I know that,” I start.
“Nope,” she says. “We’re going to the hospital.”
I protest a little furth
er, but it’s no use. Her mind is made up and it’s not like I have anything else planned for tonight.
When we get to the hospital, I’m still trying to remember whether Ash ever actually told me her birthday, or if she just brought it up because she knew it would get me to go to the hospital.
I’m not going to ask. I may have just gotten kicked in the head with enough force to scramble a watermelon, but I’m not stupid.
We walk into the emergency room to find it packed, though there is a single empty seat between a clearly drunk man with a sandwich bag full of ice against his forehead and an elderly woman who’s at least as involved in her cellphone as any teenager I’ve ever seen.
We get checked in and then we wait. Ash and I chat and joke, but mostly we wait.
Ash insists I keep the seat between vodka-breath and the aging social-network-butterfly.
While she’s standing there with crossed arms talking to me, a doctor walks up to her, saying, “Ashley Butcher?”
Ash turns, and I’m expecting some kind of row, but when she finds the source of the voice, she smiles.
“Dr. Templeton,” Ash says and then turns to me. “Mason, this is one of my professors, Dr. Templeton.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “I would get up, but I’ve been informed that doing so would be bad for my health.”
I extend a hand. The doctor just looks down at it and gives a face like she just caught a whiff of rotten eggs before she turns back to Ash.
“What brings you to the ER?” the doctor asks.
“I’m here with my boyfriend,” Ash answers. “He got a little knocked around and I just want to make sure he’s all right before I take him home.”
“Did you call the police?” the doctor asks.
Ash and I chuckle. “No,” Ash says, explaining, “it was a competition thing.”
“Ah,” the doctor says, glancing at my trunks. “A person must be pretty stupid to want to go out and get beat up for a living,” Dr. Templeton says.
My eyes go wide, but I don’t say anything. Ash, on the other hand…
“Excuse me?” she asks. “He’s not stupid. The whole thing used to kind of freak me out, too, but a lot of work and skill go into it.”
This seems like one of those times when I should just not say anything. If the doc says something rude about Ash, I’ll join the conversation, but I’d rather not jump on the grenade if I don’t have to.
“Skill?” the very annoying doctor I hope is nowhere near my treatment asks. “How much skill does it take to beat the life out of someone? It’s barbarism and nothing more.”
“It was nice to see you,” Ash says with a sneer. “I’ll be sure to take someone else’s class next semester.”
“Oh, don’t be so sensitive,” the doctor says. “I’m sure you didn’t decide to go out with him for his brains.”
“Start walking,” Ash says and my eyes are wide again. I know that stance. I know the look in Ash’s eyes. I even recognize the breathing pattern as her chest rises and falls.
She’s ready to throw down. If that doctor has any brains in her own head, she’ll take Ash’s advice and start walking.
The doctor opens her mouth, but closes it just as fast. She turns on her heel and walks off.