Author's note: I thought of the idea for this book when I was thinking of superheros, I realized that almost all... Show full author's note »
Cam's P.O.V.There is only one word to describe how Max was pushing my wheelchair down the corridors of the hospital… Petrifying. I hope that when he gets a driver’s license he is never late, because when he’s late for something… he HURRYS.
I mean seriously, he almost took off a couple of my fingers flying out of the elevator; it hadn’t even opened up all the way!
“SLOW DOWN ALREADY! We we’re late already, no point in killing ourselves hurrying to get there!” I shouted, that made him slow down a fraction. We flew through the doorway of my room, which, luckily was opened because I wasn’t able to tell if it was open until it would have been too late, as in Max and I ending up having matching casts.
My wheelchair came to a screeching halt. And despite my death grip on the armrest, I went crashing on to the bed, tumbling over off the other side.
I didn’t need that shoulder. I thought to myself, rubbing the shoulder that I had landed on.
“Ouch, can I get some help here?” I called to Max.
“I am SOO sorry! Here, let me help you up!” Max said, already picking me up as if I were a baby.
He turned towards the bed so he could sit me down, and then there was a knock at the door. Before we could reply, Drake and Brad barged in to the room with an adult coming in after them.
“Cam, Max, Are we interrupting anything?” Drake asked, not even trying to hide his amusement. I felt myself blush, although it wasn’t for any particular reason. I glanced at Max; I think he had a little color in his cheeks too.
“No” I said, “Who’s your friend in the suit?” I asked, changing the subject. Max sat me down on the bed and covered me with the blanket that was at the bottom of the bed.
“My name is Mr. Cartlin, Head of the F.B.I.”
OH. MY. GOSH.
Why was the head of the FBI visiting me in the hospital?!? My jaw taking residence on the blanket I was covered with, while I absorbed that little tad bit of information. Then I asked, “Okay, two questions,” I held up my index finger, “One are you really from the FBI?” then I held up my index and middle finger, “Two, if yes, then why in the world are you visiting me in the hospital shouldn’t you be in a meeting the president or something?”
Apparently what I had asked was funny, because then the man laughed, he actually laughed at me! “What?” I asked.
“Yes, I am the head of the FBI, and I am visiting you while you’re in the hospital to thank you.” He said.
“Thank me? I said, getting confused, “For what?”
“For stopping that man from getting away with agent Smith’s briefcase.” He said.
“Who’s agent Smith? Wait, do you mean the lady in the park, it’s no biggey.” I said, shrugging my shoulders, despite the fact that my shoulders were still extremely sore.
“Actually it is a huge ‘biggey’” he said making air quotes around, “ you stopped an enemy spy from getting away with the briefcase, it contained vital information about our countries air defense system.”
“…” I didn’t have anything to say, and in my defense what could a 13 year old say to something like that?!? There was a long pause before anyone said anything, then Max said, “Well then I guess it’s a good thing Cam pretty much plowed into the guy then, huh?” trying to get rid of some of the tension.
“Hey guys, its time!” Brad said, reaching for the remote on the table by my bed.
“Time for what?” I asked, as he turned on the news channel. On the screen the news anchor people were talking about something, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying because I had the TV on mute. Above them a video was playing, it went to full screen. Brad turned off the mute to so everyone could hear what they were saying. On the screen it showed the people on bikes racing towards a man that was clutching something. The people looked extremely familiar, but with the down pour I couldn’t tell who it was. Then it hit me, that was Tilly, Lauren, and me.
“I made the NEWS?!?” I exclaimed, to no one in particular. Max sat down beside me on the edge of the bed, he looks at me and smiles, gently reaches over and shuts my mouth, “Sorry, not really. Your jaw seems to be hanging a lot today.”
The nurse walks into the room, “Um, I came in here to tell you there are some reporters in the waiting room asking to interview you. Would like to me to send one up at a time or are you not ready to talk to that many people and want me to send them away?”
“Um, I guess I can do a few interviews.” I said, looking at Max for his opinion. He shrugged and said, “What can it hurt?”
It turns some in the English dictionary means twenty. It was interview after interview. There were people from LIVE 5 NEWS, PEOPLE MAGAZINE, ABC, US NEWS, TIME MAGIZINE, THE NEW YORK TIMES, POST & COURIER, THE WALL STREET JOURNAL, and a lot of others whose names I didn’t recognize.
After the last interview the doctor came in to talk to me, it turns out that in hospital terms I’m well enough that they can discharge me earlier than expected. Yes, I get to go back to school earlier and run over some toes! I thought sarcastically to myself.
“Ready to go?” My mom asked as she finished signing the discharge papers.
“You bet.” I lied. The last thing I want to do is go back to school and have everyone bug me all day, it’s not that they mean to, but they NEVER STOP.
“I guess it’s time to go.” She said as she wheeled me out the door and to the car.
My eyes watered up and burned went I was wheeled out into the sunlight. I realized it had been inside for almost three days. I am excited to get out of the hospital, but not certain if I want to go to school, yet. But I guess I’ll find out soon enough.