Chapter 0.5 - The Honour Statements
Things To Do Before I Kick the Bucket:
The Bucket List of one Mycroft Lancaster the Third
I, Mycroft Lancaster the Third, do solemnly swear that I will to the best of my ability, attempt to accomplish and complete this entire list objectives and goals until I am incapable of doing so because of my passing.
So help me God.
"Ugh, there are still 2 more hours left in my shift," I groan, hefting myself up onto the ridiculously huge desk to my right. I am tired, cranky and hungry. Not a good combination.
"Si-er-raaaaa," I moan to the secretary, who is giving me dirty looks as she tries to speak with whoever it is on the phone. "I don't wanna be here."
"Yes, Mrs. Hishinuma. Your appointment has been moved to Thursday at 1:45pm. We'll see you then... Yes, you too. Bye."
Sierra hangs up the phone and glares at me, as only an older sister can and watches, flabbergasted as I crinkle up all the important documents on her desk with my ass.
"Get off Kyleigh!" Sierra exclaims, shoving me unceremoniously off the edge of the desk. "How many times have I told you not to sit on my desk?"
"Too many," I respond from the floor. It's actually lot comfier than I thought it was going to be. "Which reminds me, I've been meaning to tell you that I really think you should get yourself checked for early symptoms of Alzheimer's. You've just been repeating yourself over and over and over..."
Rolling her eyes, Sierra swivels her chair to face me before replying, "A little tact would be nice Kyleigh. And you know how much I hate it when you sit on my desk. Not to mention when you interrupt me in the middle of a call with a patient. This is a hospital. I'm working. You're working, or at least, you're supposed to be. Come to think of it, shouldn't you be on the 4th floor right now?"
Smirking, I stretch out on the floor like a cat. "I'm taking a well-deserved break. I call it: naptime," I say dramatically, spreading my arms in front myself as if introducing someone.
Sierra kicks me with her foot. "Nuh huh. No way. You are not napping here. I am not going to bail you out again if Abby spots you slacking."
Pouting, I start whining again. "But Sier-raaaaaaa...."
"You sound like a 5 year old, you know that? Like a 5 year old who's been denied a chocolate bar in a grocery store," Sierra responds, eyebrows raised.
Then she spins around in her chair until she's facing her desk again and begins shuffling through some of the wrinkled papers.
"Now that you mention it, you wouldn't happen to have a chocolate bar would you?" I ask, rolling over to prop myself up with my arms.
Sierra rolls her eyes again, ignoring the question and proceeds to pick up a pen, ready to get back to her work.
"Oh! I just remembered something. You're driving me home tonight," I chirp.
Sierra spins around in her chair again, accidently whacking me in the face with her swinging feet in the process.
"Ow! Sierra!"
OK, so maybe it wasn't an accident.
"Since when?" Sierra growls back.
I glare right back at her before answering, "Uh, since my car decided to be a bitch again and not start!"
"If your car is on the fritz, how did you manage to make it to work this morning?" Sierra asks suspiciously.
My face adopts a guilty look. Avoiding eye contact with Sierra, I instead opt to stare at the ceiling.
"About that... I might have... might have possibly... hitched a ride with the mailman."
"You got a ride to work with Mitch?!" Sierra's eyes almost pop out of her head.
"Well, it was either that or not to go to work at all!" I explain. "And while I would've loved not to have made an appearance here today, not to only do I have lift training but Abby would have bitched me out so fast for taking another sick day. So, Mitch it was," I shrug, as if it's no big deal.
"Kyleigh! That guy is a creep! I mean, he hangs outside the house on Friday nights!" Sierra bellows.
"Yeah, so? It's not like he's hurting anyone. And I'm not even there Friday nights, I work the night shift at Timmy's, remember?"
"Well I'm at home on Friday nights and it creeps me the hell out! Plus, I think you're failing to see the point here, Kyleigh. He's 28!" Sierra mumbles, shaking her head.
"What point? So he's got a little crush. Who cares? I certainly don't. And he got me to work on time, so I don't see what the hell you're complaining about. I mean, aren't you glad that I graced you with my presence this morning?"
"To be honest Denver, I'd prefer to never see you again at all," a voice interrupts.
Cringing at the sound, I try to crawl underneath Sierra's desk, hoping the voice is just a figment of my imagination. Sierra, the goody little two shoes that she is, shifts her stupid wheelie chair barring the small salvation that her desk hides. She always did tattle on me when we were younger.
"Seriously Kyleigh? Get up!" she whispers violently out of the side of her mouth, kicking my arm.
That's nice. Real nice. Now I know exactly where her loyalties lie. When it comes to her job and her only sister, I get thrown underneath the bus every time.
Huffing, I slowly get to my feet, dreading the face I'm bound to see when I clear the desktop.
Once Abby's blond streaked head comes into view, I prepare myself for the worst. This lady is such a bitch. I mean, just because she's the youngest registered nurse in the hospital at twenty-two, it does not mean that she can boss me around like I'm some two-year old. She's in charge of all the co-op students from Northern University, it's not like that's anything to toot a horn about.
Abby is standing in the lounge area with her hands on her hips, a permanent scowl etched on her pale face.
"What are you doing here Denver?" she asks menacingly. "Shouldn't you be somewhere else at the moment? Like, I don't know, maybe 4 floors above where you're currently situated?"
Ooooh. Look at the RN pulling out the big words. I'm so scared.
Not.
Smiling innocently, I begin to put my fabulous acting skills to use.
"Well you see Abby, my sister forgot her wallet on the kitchen counter this morning. So me, being the nice little sister that I am, decided to bring it to her-"
I gasp as Sierra's elbow finds its way to my diaphragm, knocking the breath out of me while simultaneously making me wheeze like an asthma patient.
"She was just leaving," Sierra comments, before turning to her computer and typing away. She glances at me with an apology in her eyes as if that'll pacify me.
Not a chance.
Meanwhile, Abby is squinting at me as if it will somehow allow her to see into my mind and pick apart the bucket-load of lies I've just served to her snotty little face.
"Really? Sierra hasn't had her wallet all day? Well then, how did she get to work? Did she drive? Without her license?"
Sierra's eyes snap up from her computer, the implication hitting home. I should've just kept my mouth shut.
"No, she took the train," I respond. Damn, I'm a good liar.
But Abby's not done yet. "But how did she pay for the train without her wallet?"
"She had her purse. Sierra is like the Queen of Change, that's why her purse is always so ridiculously heavy," I scoff, grabbing said object from the desk and hefting it up, pretending it's got a lot of weight to it.
Bad idea.
As I lift the purse into the air, one of the straps hooks itself onto the corner of her stupid fat-ass desk and promptly spills all of the contents onto the floor, including Sierra's wallet.
Abby takes one look at it and smirks, thinking she's caught me in my lie. And all I can think about is that if Sierra is the Queen of Change, then Abby is most definitely the Queen of Bitches. Screw her being an RN, she's a certified QB in my eyes.
Raising her eyebrows at me, Abby points towards the incriminating evidence.
"I thought you said Sierra didn't have her wallet," she states smugly.
She must be waiting for me to high-tail it back up to the fourth floor any second now. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I know for a fact that if I don't leave as soon as possible, she will personally escort me back to the 4th floor herself and make sure to mention it to Professor McFadden, my co-op placement advisor.
Bitch.
Struggling not to punch her in the face, I glance at my watchless wrist and make a decision.
Gasping, I shout, "Oh, look at the time! You know, you were so right Abby. I really ought to get back up to the 4th floor or Mr. Fisker won't get his meds on time. And if he doesn't get his meds on time he'll put up a big fuss about how incompetent the nurses in this hospital are, and I wouldn't want him thinking you were incompetent because that..."
I keep babbling, all the while slowly taking an increasing number of steps backwards. One small step from the snarky QB is one giant leap to freedom.
"...and we both know that you can't do everything in this hospital, because barking at everyone is just such a demanding job. Asking you to do more would just be preposterous! I, for one, know exactly how taxing it is to yell at other people just to get things done, and quite frankly I'm amazed at how you do it every day. I mean all the other nurses do is run around taking care of patients, but you? You scream and yell at them while they do it, making their lives what I assume to be a literal living hell. And it takes a certain type of person to be able to do all that, you know? To be so cold, and spiteful, and shrewish, and nasty, and - you know what? You're like my idol, I swear."
Still stepping backwards, I finally reach the doorway and decide to stop blabbering sarcastic little comments because Abby will eventually pick up on what I just said and I do not want to be anywhere near her when that happens.
Shooting a glare at the girl who is supposed to be my sister, I dash around the corner into a different hallway. If I can I make it to the north wing, I can barricade myself in the handicap washroom and hide from her.
I glance over my shoulder every few seconds as I run, trying to figure out if Abby really is as stupid as I think she is and has not yet realized that I was insulting her for the past 5 minutes, versus the other quite viable option which involves her on a path of chaos and destruction that both begins and ends with me being euthanized multiple times with fifteen different needles. Because she would totally revive me somehow just to kill me off for a second time. And a third time. And a fourth.
Of course, me being me, I don't realize that contemplating whether or not today is going to be my last day while also running in a direction I am not currently facing involves a considerable amount of multi-tasking. A crazy amount apparently, because while I am the best multi-tasker that I know, some things require a special kind of focus and concentration in order for them to be done properly.
Like, in this case, running.
One second I'm wrapped up in the thoughts of how I might not live to see tomorrow even if I am only 5 steps away from salvation, and the next I'm wrapped up in a jumble of arms and legs while my butt nerves send signals to my brain that it's in pain.
Because you know, when you run into someone and end up flying through the air only to land on your ass moments later?
It hurts.
It hurts a lot.
A groan from somewhere behind me breaks through my thoughts long enough for me to realize that there is guy whose face is a little too close for comfort to my ass at the moment.
"What the fuck was that?" the voice mumbles. "Hey, lady! I was looking to get a nurse for my grandfather, not looking to get run over by a Mac truck and put in a room beside him."
Wow.
OK, correction.
There is an asshole whose face is a little too close for comfort to my ass at the moment. Although considering his occupation seems to be a full-time asshole, maybe he's exactly where he belongs.
I should fart on him.
Better yet, I should introduce him to Abby. They'd probably make a perfect couple, what with her being a QB and him managing to tackle me through my blindside with perfect accuracy.
Instead, I continue lying there like a complete idiot just to piss him off a little more.
"Look, you clumsy ass, are you gonna move or what?"
Red threatens to cloud my vision. What the hell did I do to deserve this kind of treatment from a random stranger? So what if I pummeled into him, he could've swerved out of the way. There is a good 30 feet of hallway from the corner where I came barrelling through and that is plenty of room for anyone to get out of the way of someone running. I wasn't even moving that fast.
The guy tries to shift underneath me, twisting onto his side and then slumping back in defeat.
Now let me make it known that while I may eat like a pig and am constantly famished, I am not overweight. I'm not super skinny or anything, but I like to think I'm a decent size. Not too big, not too small, just somewhere in between that is a perfect balance.
So this guy and his nasty little comments and less than subtle attempts at making jokes about my weight? Totally not appreciated.
"Do you have some sort of problem?" I ask rudely, stretching out even more on top of the guy. Now is not the time for politeness and etiquette.
Another half-heartened attempt at breaking free and then I hear, "Huh?"
"Problem," I repeat, ready to rip this guy a new one. "You know, like maybe you're lost or something? The men's washroom happens to be another hallway over beside the lounge area with the ugly geraniums. You're currently situated in front of the handicap washroom."
"I don't need directions. I know exactly where I am, thank you very much." I swear I can hear this guy's eyes roll every time he opens his mouth.
He is so going to get it.
"Actually, I don't think you do. This wing is for the terminally-ill patients. Since you seem perfectly fine and I know for a fact that you can walk courtesy of your knocking into me two seconds ago, I would conclude that you are lost since not only are there no nurses anywhere near this section of the floor but also because the only thing around here is the handicap washroom," I repeat, gesturing to the door beside us.
"I'm not lost you idiot, I know exactly where I am and-"
"Was I done talking?" I scoff. "No, no I wasn't. So stop acting like such a stereotypical male who thinks he knows exactly where he is when in actuality you don't know jack-shit about where you are."
Huffing a little, I decide to maneuver myself a little over to the right so that the stupid idiot can actually hear the next insult I'm about to throw at his ridiculously obnoxious head.
"As I was I saying, I would conclude that you are lost except you're not because anyone with half an eyeball can read the sign over there that says 'Handicap Washroom'. Which then begs the question, why are you here then? You're obviously somewhat coherent, regardless if your motor-skills are severely lacking, and you're not acting bat-shit crazy, which leaves only one option: you're blind. So, why don't you go check out the optometry facility in the east wing of the MacKenzie building and I'll go on my merry way?"
Smirking at my rather impressive comeback, I roll off of the seemingly stupefied stranger and dust off my scrubs. Turning back around to where I came from, I check to see if the coast is clear.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see he's still sprawled out on the ground, facedown and I can't help but grin a bit little wider. Bugs Bunny said it best: what an ultramaroon.
Stepping past him, I begin to head for the elevators.
"Are you serious? Did you just make fun of blind people in the middle of a hospital?"
Ugh, this guy is insufferable. Doesn't he know when he's been beat?
Sighing, I spin around to try and get rid of him for good, only to promptly meet a chest.
It takes a moment to register, but eventually I notice that it's not just a chest. It's a hard chest. A sculptured chest. A chest most unfortunately covered in a blue t-shirt.
OK, not what I was expecting. So this guy's probably got some drool-worthy abs, so what? He's still an asshole.
Resisting the urge to look up at his face, I spit out, "Look, I don't have the time to be your personal GPS system and lead you to your destination, OK? So either find a pair of glasses or walk back down to the other end of the hallway and ask the nurse at the desk to escort you to the optometry wing because I've got a job to do."
It takes every ounce of effort within my body not to look up at him as I turn around to leave. Every. Single. Ounce. Because I know if I look up I am going to end up staring at what is bound to be a gorgeous face that will make me swoon uncontrollably. And he's an asshole. He deserves no swooning from me. So utilizing what little self-control I have, I step further and further away from him and try to remember exactly what I was doing before the idiot knocked into me.
"Denver, where the hell do you think you're going?!" Abby's screechy voice echoes in the somewhat empty hallway.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Whirling around, I watch in horror as Abby's stupid blonde-streaked head comes into view, ready to pounce on its prey. Namely, me. And the panic sets in.
"Shit," I whisper, scrambling around looking for an escape route. Something, anything that'll get me out of this deteriorating situation would be extremely welcome at the moment.
The clacking of her heels reverberates against the tiled floor as her footsteps get closer and closer.
My eyes bounce like ping pong balls as I try to find a last-ditch effort to get away. The bathroom? No go. Abby'll have my head if she sees me enter a handicap washroom and I'm in enough shit with her already. The elevators? Another nix. There're just no guarantees that I'll make it there in time, and with my luck, it'll be on the 14th floor and going up.
And that's when I notice it. Or rather him.
The asshole. The gorgeous asshole whose hazy-lidded eyes are currently staring at me with an odd intensity.
Avoiding eye contact with his penetrating hazel orbs, I dive at him and snatch his arm with a vice-like grip.
"OK," I whisper into his ear. "Here's how this is going to go down. You are going to lead me to whatever room your grandfather is in as quickly as possible, got it? Upon reaching our destination, I will get you a nurse for your grandfather straightaway, alright? But we need to get moving now, because I am two seconds away from getting my ass fired and I really don't want to deal with the QB right now."
The guy's eyebrows draw together in contemplation as I speak and then out of nowhere, a smirk slides onto his face.
"I'm afraid that's going to be a bit of a problem. I can't see according to you, remember?"
Of all the fucking responses this guy could come up with.
"You know what? Fuck you. I don't need your help anyways. I was just giving you an opportunity to make up for your asshole personality, but you know what? Forget about it. Nothing can redeem you," I sneer, knowing that I'm basically lying out of my teeth right now. This guy was my last hope at keeping my co-op placement, but no, he had to keep being an asshat.
And now I am screwed. I am so utterly screwed to the 9th circle of hell and back. There is no way I am not getting fired which means there is no way I am passing my co-op. And that means there is no way I am getting enough credits to graduate which means I am never going to get out of my parent's house. And all of that means I am totally and irrevocably screwed.
Great, we've come full circle. Someone please sharpen the blade on the guillotine and let's get this public execution rolling.
Slumping my shoulders a little, I side-step to the left and snidely wave at Abby's approaching figure. If I'm going to get fired, I might as well do it with a bang.
Resigning myself to my fate, I watch her glare at me as she marches up. She is going to take great pleasure in reaming me out, I can just tell.
Abby looks down at me with utter disdain before uttering, "Denver, do you have any idea how much trouble I can get you in after that little stunt you pulled back there? Do you? Because I don't think -"
"Excuse me - Abby, is it?" A voice from behind me interrupts.
The jerkwad from before steps out from behind me and walks straight up to the QB herself. Abby's eyes widen as she takes in his appearance, of which I have a horrible view of since he's decided to wedge himself in between us. So while she gets the sculptured front half, I'm stuck with looking at his back.
Not that there's anything wrong his back per se, I'd just rather like to be staring at his chest, or even his face so that I can -
Wait. Asshole... right. I don't wanna see anything.
Shaking away those distracting thoughts, I finally clue in to the fact that Abby and the asshole are talking.
"Yeah, she was actually about to help me with something. You see, I need a nurse to come check in on my grandfather."
Wait, what? Is this guy actually trying to help me out here?
Abby's eyes flicker over to me briefly before returning to the guy's face.
Smiling slightly, she blinks and says, "Really? She was going to help you out? Because it's been my experience with Denver that the only person she ever helps out is herself."
I narrow my eyes at that comment, only to widen them immediately after. Abby's twirling her hair between fingers as she speaks. And she's looking at the asshole with this sultry look in her eyes. And she's - oh my god she's smiling!
I can't believe she is actually flirting with this dipshit.
I watch in half-horror half-amusement as she nods her head at whatever he's saying. Her hand moves from her hair to his arm as he responds to her and she strokes it gently as she bites her bottom lip with the completely fake pretense that she actually cares about the asshole's grandfather. God, this is actually kind of disgusting to watch.
"...because he said he was supposed to have taken his pills about an hour ago and no one has arrived with them. So I've been trying to find a nurse who can tell me where his medication is, but apparently none of the mid-day prescriptions have been delivered to this wing yet. Are you guys behind or something?"
Hearing the end of the guy's response, I gulp. Shit. The person who was supposed to be delivering the all medication to this wing? Yours truly.
Abby must realize this because her smile widens to a full-fledged grin as she turns and sets her gaze on me.
"Oh really?" she asks, innocently. "You say that none of the medication has been delivered to any of the rooms yet? That's really unfortunate. I just might have to fire the person who's responsible for delivering the meds. After all, we can't have patients not getting their medication on time."
Abby sends a smug little smile my way, her blue eyes glittering.
I am so fucking screwed it is not even funny.
As she saunters over to me, Abby's fake little flirty mask slides off and a murderous one takes it place. Looking me dead in the eye she gloats, "Denver, you can kiss your co-op placement-"
"Um, Abby?" the guy cuts in again. He looks a little ticked at being dismissed so easily by a girl, but there's a glimmer of amusement in those hazel eyes.
He has impeccable timing for an asshole, I'll give him that. Abby was just in the middle of firing me and he cut her off at the perfect moment. So technically, I still have my job. I'm one word away from losing it, but I've still got it.
Abby turns to looks at him and he winks at her.
Holy shit sticks.
He just winked at her.
I don't whether to gag at the cockiness of it all or applaud the fact that he now has her complete and undivided attention.
He walks back towards us and places his hand on Abby's shoulder. Sending a piercing look into her eyes, he follows it up with his low voice.
"Since it seems like the person in charge of distributing the medication is pretty incompetent," he pauses, the edge of his lips moving up slightly into a half smirk.
OK, that was obviously a shot at me. What a stupid, idiotic, intolerable son of a bit-
"Why don't you come with me and get things straightened out? I can pick us up some coffees while you get things in order and afterwards I'll take you out to lunch in appreciation," he urges softly.
Captivated by his performance, I stare as the guy's hazel eyes smolder with persistence, slowly picking away at Abby's resolve.
"Sure," Abby agrees almost immediately. So much for that resolve.
Grabbing his arm, Abby smiles at him seductively and then notices that I'm still in the immediate vicinity.
Raising her eyebrows, she asks, "Denver, shouldn't you be on the 4th floor?"
Astounded, my jaw drops open. This guy is a genius. She has totally forgotten that she was about to fire me two sentences ago.
Closing my mouth, I answer Abby's question with a nod, wisely concluding that it would not be in my favour to say anything right about now.
But as I walk past the pair as I head towards the elevators, the guy leans towards me and whispers in my ear, "Oh, you so owe me for this, Denver."
Enraged at his mocking tone, I whirl around but all I can do is scowl and send mental death threats as he throws another half-smirk my way before walking away with Abby glued to his side.
Did I actually think this guy was a genius a few seconds ago?
I meant asshole.
Grade-A arrogant asshole.
Screw This Shit: My F*ck-It List
Signed, Kyleigh Denver
This is a binding list of shit that I pledge will never, under any circumstances, occur, regardless of emergencies, life-or-death situations, accidents and/or natural disasters.
Because if any of this shit goes down?
I, Kyleigh Denver, will be going down with it.
-x-
A/N: So... not a big fan of author notes. Just a heads up on that now, but I know a lot of you love feedback from the authors, so here I am.
Suggestions for either the Bucket or F*ck-It List are most definitely welcome. If I like your idea(s), you'll get a chappie dedicated to you for your awesome cleverness.
Uhm, hopefully this can still be considered as [PG-13]: the only bad part really is going to be the swearing, and that's just the way the character came out. If anyone disagrees with the rating though, let me know.
Updates are not going to be regular - sorry in advance, but I'm kinda a perfectionist and if I don't like something, it doesn't go up until I do like it.
Alrighty, I think that's it.
Remember, "feedback is love"!