Time Change (bxb)

Thirty-Three

Time P.O.V

After leaving the hospital with an atrocious orange cast, I was all but locked in my room for the next two weeks. I had managed to fracture my ankle in two of the three ligaments. I imagine the third would have broken, too, if they had tried magic one more time. My story of how the ankle managed to get in such a state started to waver the longer people poked and prodded, not to mention the fact that my foster mother was quick to question any loophole in my story that she could, making the story much harder to maintain. So, outside of being walking impaired for the next foreseeable couple of months, I was also grounded for losing my phone, which was a much milder punishment than I anticipated receiving, though I assume it has loads to do with the fact that I'm already physically damaged.

I knew the moment the doctors looked somewhat perplexed about the status of my ankle that I wouldn't be returning to school anytime soon, a reality that hit me after we left the hospital and the pain meds started wearing off. It didn't take me that long to figure out why I was so upset about missing school, something that had previously been a distasteful waste of time, even if the answer was mildly confusing. If I didn't go to school, I wouldn't be able to see Marcus. I know that sounds weird, even more so given Marcus was a bit of a stalker, which is something we're going to have to work on if the two of us are going to be friends.

If Marcus even wanted to be friends with me.

If Grayson and Marcus were mates like I assume they are, why would they want a third-wheel friend hanging around them? These past two weeks have given me a lot of time to overthink things, and d*mn, overthinking I was. I don't know how to feel. On the one hand, they had wanted to come with us to the hospital, which means they care in some form. But on the other hand, what if they only cared out of pity or some weird form of obligation? Even the idea of them not liking me made me feel like crying, which is not like me. I've never been the kind of person who cares about what others think about me. I'm used to being alone and having no friends, which was why it was even weirder that I not only wanted them to be my friends but that I was also worrying that they had pretended to like me.

I guess it's official; I'm going stir-crazy.

"KIDS! IT'S TIME FOR DINNER! SOMEONE HELP YOUR BROTHER TO THE TABLE!" I waited for a moment, wondering which of my delightful siblings would offer their horrifically injured brother a helping hand. It didn't take me long to figure out that the sacrificed sibling was none other than Gregory, based solely on the groan that came from his room. I was simply happy that I wasn't being forgotten... again. Yes, again. Never expect your siblings to remember to order you something from takeout. They will forget like clockwork, turn the television up so loud that they can't hear me scream for food if they tried, and because I cannot get down the stairs without assistance, I went without food until one of the parents get home and question the three children downstairs where their broken-ankled brother was, only for them to realize they had forgotten their brother upstairs while trying to convince the parent that they didn't, to which the parent investigates and finds that the forgotten child has been stuck upstairs without food for hours. So, let's just say; it was unlikely that I'd be forgotten when it comes to meals anytime soon, especially by my now-grounded siblings.

'It's so stupid that we got grounded for this.'

"Come on, I'm hungry," Gregory said, moving to stand on my injured side. 'God, why is he so heavy?' The idea of me being heavy to my brother was kind of funny if not a little insulting. Both Grayson and Marcus carried me without complaints about my weight or lack thereof, which meant, in my mind, anyway, that Gregory was a weak *ss who liked to complain. Together, the two of us hobbled out of the room and downstairs, where the rest of the family was already waiting in their designated seats.