Margaret "Peggy" Faber
The kids start to complain as soon as I close the book. They always look forward to when I come to the hospital to read to them. I decided to start reading them a series and the first one they requested was Harry Potter. They beg for me to read another chapter, even though they know I don't have the time.
They want me to stay as long as possible. The kids enjoy my company, just as I as I enjoy theirs. Part of it is because they like having someone like me around; someone who's beaten the very disease that they're trying to fight. They see me as a beacon of hope and if I can provide them that comfort, then I will.
I owe this hospital and its staff so much. I volunteer here after school almost every day, but today I had to do it in the morning because I have to do some blood work in the afternoon. If I have time, then maybe I can read a few more chapters to the kids, but they know that I probably won't be able to.
"Bye Meg!" the kids call as I stand.
"I'll see you all later, okay?" I say as I smile at them. I go and hug each of them tightly while silently hoping that they'll somehow survive. It breaks my heart because I know that just from looking at them that several won't.
I leave the hospital a few minutes later and take the public bus over to Ashbourne High. I feel people's eyes on me as I walk down the hallway to locker. I grit my teeth when I hear people whisper about me while using the stupid nickname 'Peggy'.
I hate that nickname more than anything. It was thought up by Emilia Laws and was quickly picked up by the whole school. They all know about my disability; the fact that I'm missing my left leg. Emilia thinks she's being clever because not only is 'Peggy' a nickname for Margaret, it's also a play on words for 'peg-leg'.
I'm grateful when I see that Francis is already by my locker. I roll my eyes when I see that he's leaning against it, trying his best to look cool. In his own words, he's trying to look like the Greasers from the 1950s. Even with his leather jacket, slightly slicked back hair, ripped jeans and black converse, he doesn't look cool. He smiles wide when he sees me and I greet him as I open my locker, pulling out books and putting them in my bag.
"So I was thinking that maybe a little after school we meet up, go down to Jerry's, get several ice cream sandwiches and watch Sherlock at your place," Francis proposes as we walk down the hall to go to our first class—Spanish.
"Only if we actually have a study session this time," I say as we sit in our normal seats. I see Emilia and her normal group sitting in the back and I roll my eyes as they smirk at me. "You keep putting it off and I'm pretty sure that neither of us are going to pass at this point."
"Oh fuck off, we both know that you're going to get an A," Francis scoffs. I grin at him before turning my attention to the front of the class, where Profe Stevens is writing on the chalkboard. Right as the bell rings, several people come rushing inside, one of them being Harry Styles.
"You boys are late," Profe Stevens says.
"Lo siento, profe," Harry says breathlessly as he pushes his recently cut hair off his forehead. I roll my eyes when I hear girls behind me mutter excitedly. Nearly four years later and girls can't seem to get over his accent.
"Just sit down and be sure to pay attention this time around," Profe says before turning back to write on the wall. Harry and the other boys have to sit next to Francis and I because no one else has sat near us.
"So, as I was saying, you're surely going to get an A, and I've already accepted that I'll get a C," Francis says quietly as we subtly move our desks closer to each other. "And I don't really care because C's still get degrees or some shit like that."
"How are we going to get into the same school if you get shittier grades then me?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.
"Easy," he shrugs. "I bribe my way through."
"Okay, Aunt Becky," I reply, grinning at him before turning my attention back to the front of the classroom. Francis gets bored three minutes into the lecture and begins to pass notes to me. I eventually become aware of how Harry's gaze occasionally moves over to me. I can tell that he wants something from me and I already have a feeling that I know what it is.
"I think ice cream sandwiches and Sherlock would be a fun activity," I say once Spanish ends. "In between episodes, I'll help you study and we'll pass the test together. Even if we don't end up going to the same school, I would prefer it to be close by or something."
It's the beginning of our senior year of high school and we've started applying to schools. I'm hoping to get into Stanford so I can become an oncologist. Francis has absolutely no clue what he wants to do, and I know he's definitely smart enough to get into any Ivy League—he just doesn't seem to care enough.
"I kind of want to go to UC Santa Cruz, now that I think about it," Francis shrugs. "Maybe I could do something in business and dick around on the beaches when I'm not doing anything important." I snort at my friend's statement and we part ways. He has some acting class to get to and I have writing.
"Hey Peggy!" a voice calls from the other end of the hallway. I stiffen at the use of the nickname and continue walking, hoping that whoever is calling me will get the hint. Evidently they do not because I hear several loud footsteps.
"Here we go," I mutter under my breath. I turn my head and see that Harry's chased after me. "Hi," I say, hoping that I sound somewhat enthusiastic. He gives me a wide smile—something that would have certainly made any girl swoon, but I'm just annoyed that he still calls me Peggy. I've corrected him on several different occasions but he doesn't seem to hear me or he doesn't care.
"I was wondering if you could help me out with something," Harry says, somewhat breathless as he tries to keep pace with me. "Would you be willing to—"
"Help you out with your math homework," I interrupt monotonously. I hear him let out a quiet 'uh huh' and I take a deep breath. "I can't. I've got more important things to do than try and tutor someone who doesn't give a shit," I continue with a slight edge to my voice.
I've known Harry for three years now; we had been paired together for a history assignment freshman year. Ever since then, he's been tailing me an I'm pretty sure it's because he thinks we're friends; I'd say we're fellow classmates. We've had some classes here and there but we're both fundamentally different people. I prefer to keep to myself for a number of reasons, I have a small number of friends. Harry's the captain of the soccer team, is extremely extroverted and has a bunch of friends.
During our sophomore year, I had started to tutor him when he fell behind in math class. He needed to maintain good grades if he wanted to remain on the team. He's not bad that the subject, in fact he's quite good at it. His problem is that he gets distracted easily. He also prefers trying to talk to me instead of learning and I hate it.
I hate that he doesn't seem to recognise how lucky he is that he's able to go to school and get an eduction. I know too many people who would have loved to go to school but couldn't because of their cancer or because they died. I'm glad that Harry's not the typical asshole jock, but sometimes his friendliness can be too much. There's also the fact that he appears to be woefully unaware of how he's perpetuating a cruel nickname. He doesn't even understand the origins of it and I don't even think he realises that I hate it.
"I do care about math," Harry says defensively as he absentmindedly runs his fingers through his short hair. He's frowning now. "Have I been giving you the impression that I don't?"
"I'm really sorry Harry, but I don't have time," I say as I decide to stop at my locker to get my lunch. I usually eat it during second period anyways. Annoyingly, he follows me and I don't miss as his friends smirk at the two of us, no doubt wondering why 'the school cripple' is hanging out with the captain of the soccer team. "You should go to the counseling office and see if there's someone who's better suited to help you."
"Could you help tomorrow?" Harry asks with a hint of desperation. "Please, Peggy. I need your help; you're so patient with me and—"
"I'm also busy tomorrow," I say. There's no way in hell I'll miss my after-school readings with the kids. "Ask Shea if she could help. She's capable and she's actually your friend."
"Shea tries to feel me up every time I'm around her, I'd rather not. It makes me uncomfortable," Harry says, pulling a face. I let out a quiet huff at this and begin to pull some books out of my locker and put some notebooks in it before closing it and walking away. "Please Peggy?" I close my eyes in irritation at the use of the nickname and turn my head to look at him.
"Fine," I snap. "Meet me by my locker on Wednesday after school and we'll go to Starbucks," I add before picking up my pace and walking away, grumpy. When I make it to my next class, I sit beside Francis at our usual table with an annoyed sigh.
"Who's pissed in your cereal today?" Francis asks as I let out an annoyed huff.
"Harry was pushing me to help him with his math homework and I caved, telling him that I'd help out on Wednesday," I sigh.
"Isn't that when you were planning to get your tattoo?"
"Yeah, but it's not a big deal. I'll just call Louis and tell him that I have to reschedule. He won't mind," I sigh.
"How's your leg?" Francis asks after a few moments of awkward silence. He seems to know that he should change the subject and I'm glad that he's so good at reading me. He also pulls out his notebook and a pen and draws a three-by-three grid. He puts an X in the center box and I narrow my eyes at him.
"Hey fuck you, now you're automatically going to win," I groan as I put an O on the top left square. "And it's fine. The chafing is gone and I managed to fix the weird bending thing that made it awkward to walk."
"Oh that's good," Francis says with a slight smile. "Hah, I won," he adds as we continue playing tic-tac-toe. My eyes flicker over to the front of the classroom and see that Professor Payne hadn't arrived yet.
"Would you be willing to come to the hospital with me after school?" I ask.
"You already know what my answer's going to be," he replies. "I was planning on coming anyways. Your parents invited me," he adds with a sly smile. I let out a quiet chuckle at this. My mom and dad absolutely adore Francis and are always inviting him along when we go on family outings. He's basically their second child, something that I have no problem with. He's my closest friend that I have, especially at this school.
"Well, just so you know, the doctors are going to do some physical examinations and blood work. They want to make sure I'm still 'clean' and stuff like that," I answer. Before Francis can reply, Professor Payne comes walking in.
He's pushing a cart and I'm able to see that there are little Petri dishes. That's when I remember that were supposed to look at the bacteria growth on agar. It was an experiment we did last week, where we spread E. coli on various natural and laboratory made antibiotics.
Though this is a pretty standard biology lab, I know that Professor Payne did this one for a few specific reason. He had a student in his class a couple of years back that was vehemently against western medicine and was an anti-vaxxer. He had nearly lost it but managed to calm down enough.
Ever since then, he's assigned more readings and created labs that show why natural medicines won't always help someone get better. It's his passive aggressive way of getting back at that student. It's been an interesting class so far and I get where both sides are coming from. However, because of my personal experiences, I will always be on the side of western medicines. They saved my life.
Once biology is over, I go to my locker and grab a few things before going to the courtyard. I have a free period right now and despite it being the last class of the day for me, I'm staying back so Francis and I can walk home together. We live right next to each other, so it's rather convenient for us to hang out as much as possible.
"There she is," an annoyingly familiar voice says after five minutes of peace and quiet. I hastily pull out the book I'd been reading--Night by Elie Wiesel. I pretend that I've been reading it but this doesn't last long before it's being pulled out of my hands and tossed to the side.
"I was reading that," I say dryly. "Honestly, don't you have anything better to do than harass me?" I ask as I stare into Emilia's cold blue eyes. Her ruby read lips curve up into a smirk and I see Carson and Luke standing behind her.
"We've managed to clear some time in our very busy schedules to talk to you," she says mockingly.
"Lucky me," I say dryly as I stare up at her defiantly. "Well, get it over with, whatever you're going to do," I sigh. There are a few ways that this could go. They'll either make some stupid jokes about me and my leg, or they'll try and tear it off me. They've only attempted the latter three times—all of them unsuccessful, but only because someone happens to come by as they're about to try. I wonder what'll happen this time. They could go down a different route, one where they move onto physical abuse but I don't think they'd stoop to that level.
"Grab her leg," Luke says with a wide grin. "Let's watch the cripple hobble her way home," he adds.
"Damn," I groan as I feel my pulse quicken. We're in a secluded area of the courtyard, a place I've always sat because hardly anyone ever comes back over here. It looks like I'm going to have to change where I hang around now.
"Carson, Luke, grab her leg," Emilia says with a slight smirk, sensing that this time they'll be able to tear my prosthetic leg off of me.
"So you're letting them do your dirty work for you?" I ask as I watch the two boys come over to me. I don't bother trying to get away because three against one are terrible odds.
"They're eager and willing, who am I to stop them?" she asks with a smirk. I sigh quietly and kick Luke's hand away from me, my pulse quickening even more. To my slight horror, he goes to hold my legs down while Carson grabs my left leg. Panic consumes me and my eyes begin to water as I feel my prosthetic begin to pull away from me.
I begin to prepare myself for the humiliation of having to get help when I hear a quiet cough. Luke and Carson freeze almost immediately and my eyes soon fall upon Harry, who's standing before the four of us.
"Hi Peggy," Harry says. "I've been looking for you everywhere. You said that you'd tutor me, remember?" he continues once he realises that everyone's gaze is on him.
"She definitely didn't say that," Emilia snorts as she walks over to Harry, completely unaware of the look of pure dislike that he sends her way. "I was walking behind you two. She brushed you off." By now, both Luke and Carson have moved away from me and I subtly try and push my leg back on.
"But then she texted me saying that she was able to make time," Harry replies as he moves swiftly away from her. I'm surprised when he stands right in front of me and holds out his hand for me to take. "She told me meet her in the library but I figured that she'd forget so I went around to her usual spots." Against my better judgement, I gather all of my things and grab his hand. I hold tightly as he gently pulls me up to my feet and my eyebrows furrow when he doesn't let go of me.
"You have each other's numbers?" Emilia asks with just a hint of jealousy. I guess that means that she doesn't have his number, which is rather surprising. I try getting Harry to let go of me and he hesitantly does so. I know he wants me to stay by his side but I can't take it any more and I rush out of the courtyard. I pull out my phone as I blink back tears and text Francis.
Me: is there any way you can leave class early today?
Almost immediately, I get a response.
Francis 🤓: I can. Why?
Me: I just kind of need to talk to you specifically right now.
Francis 🤓: K
Francis 🤓: give me like five minutes to pretend that my mom is calling for some surprise doctor's appointment
I smile gratefully at my phone screen and quickly tell him that I'll be at my locker. I take the long way there to make sure that Emilia and the others haven't followed me. I stop abruptly when I see that Harry's leaning against my locker. He has a worried expression on his face and he immediately straightens when he sees me.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
"What?" Harry asks, taken aback.
"Thank you for stepping in when you had. I'm not sure if I would have been able to deal with the humiliation," I clarify.
"Have they been bullying you for long?" he frowns. I smile bitterly at him and open my locker to put my biology textbook away. "Peggy..." I feel a flash of annoyance at this but manage to remain calm as I close the door and step away. I see Francis at the other end of the hallway and I smile at him before turning to look at Harry.
"Look, I've got to go," I say. "Thank you for stepping in. It means more than you know," I add before walking away. "I'll see you after school on Wednesday, okay?"
"O-oh, yes, okay!" Harry says, his eyes widening as he remembers that I had agreed to help him with his math homework. I smile to myself before walking over to Francis. He gives me one of those you're telling me everything later looks as we leave the school. Neither of us say anything on the short walk to my house. My parents greet us as we head up to my room and for the next forty five minutes, I tell him.
"Thank God Harry stepped in when he had," Francis says with wide eyes.
"Yeah," I say as I run my fingers through my long hair.
"You know, I wonder if this is going to make Harry want to keep an eye on you," Francis muses. "Meg, what if this is how he finds the excuse to become your friend."
"Oh please," I say with a roll of my eyes.
"How many times do I have to tell you this," Francis groans. "That boy clearly wants to be your friend. He's been trying to get you to like him since freshmen year and I'm pretty sure he's developed a crush."
"Yeah right," I say as I check the time on my phone. We have a half hour until we have to be at the hospital and I take a deep breath. "Besides, I'm not looking for anyone."
"Not this again," he groans. "Meg, how many times do I have to tell you that it's okay to want to be with someone. Even if your time could be limited, that doesn't mean--"
"We have to go downstairs," I interrupt. "I think my parents are calling our names."
"One of these days, I'll actually be able to finish this conversation with you," Francis grumbles. I send him a sly smile before grabbing my coat and opening my bedroom door.
"There you two are," Mum says as she gives the two of us a friendly smile. "Alright Margaret, are you ready for today?" she asks more seriously.
"It's just some blood work," I assure her. "It's not a big deal, and even if the leukemia does come back, I'll just beat it again," I add. I see sadness flash across my mother's kind eyes and I go to kiss her cheek. My father comes over to us from the kitchen and he immediately bursts into tears. I can't help but laugh at his endearing reaction. He's always been the more emotional family member. He cries at everything, but I know I can't say much when he cries about me because he's just worried.
I try to keep a positive attitude around my parents because I know it makes them feel better. They've spent so much time taking care of me that it feels nice that I'm able to help them in some way. Francis is the only one who I've actually really ever been super down around. At first I felt bad that he had to take on all of this alone but he kept repeating that he didn't mind. His support throughout the years has meant so much to me and I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to repay him for his friendship.