We stood outside Mr. Brown's office, waiting for one of them to come out. Angry, muffled voices could be heard from the inside but nothing too loud to be perceived by my ear. Both Noah and I exchanged some awkward looks but neither of us dared to speak any word.
Almost ten minutes have passed when the door shot open and Adam stormed out from inside. His face looked all puffy, his jaw tightened because of anger. His hands were balled into fists as he dashed out.
My inner voice suggested me to follow him so I did but quietly. With silent steps, I hurried behind him, noticing his every movement as he struggled to start his bike. But when his fifth attempt failed, he kicked the bike away and let out a deep grunt. Leaving his bike, he walked out of the parking lot towards the school's main gate.
I contemplated whether to follow him or not. I didn't want to miss the school but what if Adam hurt himself again like all the times I witnessed the wounds on his body. I didn't want to believe that the rumors about him were true and now was the time to figure the reality out.
I walked behind him, using the hood of my black jacket to blend in the crowd. He was quicker than me so I had to take unusually bigger steps in order to keep my pace with him. At the corner of the school road, he turned to the left, the side opposite to the direction of our houses.
Looking around in confusion, I kept following him quietly though I was growing paranoid with each turn. The area was getting more deserted. There were very few people around, even that time of the day.
What if he really is involved in some dark stuff?
I stopped in my tracks when I observed him stopping in front of a building. Looking around, he barged inside and shut the door behind him. I squinted my eyes to take a better look at the name written above its front door.
Quadriplegics rehabilitation centre.
Quadriplegic? Where have I heard this word before?
I stood there, stressing on my brain, forcing it to remember what it meant. Thankfully, my brain didn't prove to be an utter failure and it reminded me that it was the same disability from which Franklin D. Roosevelt suffered, in which he couldn't feel or move anything below his waist.
But what is Adam doing here?
To curb my curiosity, I took some steps until I reached the greyish door and walked through it. The first person I saw was a blonde receptionist, writing something down on a register. She stopped when I reached her and asked me what I was doing here.
"Umm.. I.." I looked at her in confusion, not knowing what to do.
Another visitor came to us and she diverted her attention to the bald man. Taking advantage of it, I looked down at the register and struggled to find Adam's name in it. I furrowed my brows when I found his name in the visitor's list against another name.
Patient no. 47: Adaline
"Sorry ma'am but you have to register yourself first if you want to meet any patient." the woman said to me when she found me peeking inside the register.
"Uh.. Yeah. I was going anyways. I'll be back for registration some other day." I lied to get myself out of the situation. Though I wanted to see who this Adaline was, the smart step would be going straight back to my house and never mention this to Adam again.
Looking around once again, I smiled at the receptionist and made my way out of the place.
Who is Adaline?
What if she is his mother?
Or maybe a friend or relative?
YOU ARE READING
Someone Like AdamTeen Fiction
"You know, it won't physically hurt you to be nice for once." I crossed my arms in front of my chest and groaned. "I don't want to take a chance." the corner of his lips lifted a little as he finished his sentence. "Well, you don't hear me complai...