Dead Med

by Freida McFadden

“I’ll miss Agatha,” Victor says. “I mean, when the class is over.”

It’s not that Victor is a bad person or anything, but I’ve always considered myself a loner. I prefer solitary activities, and I hate when solitary activities turn into group activities. Studying is a solitary activity.

What could have made a bang that loud? The only thing I could think of is… A gun.

“Hey!” I call out. “Did you hear that noise a minute ago?” He doesn’t answer me, which I find a bit odd.

It takes me several beats to realize there’s a gun pointed at my face.

When he speaks, his voice is flat and toneless: “Do exactly as I say if you don’t want to die.”

“In every class,” she says, “ten people flunk and need to repeat the year. Five drop out, never to return. And, of course, in the last few years, there’s always one who…”

She shakes her head. “Why do you think the school is nicknamed Dead Med?”

“My name is Dr. Patrice Winters,” she says. “But you can call me Patrice. I’ve been acting as the school’s wellness counselor for the last four years.”

And then she leans back in her seat, smiling at the way my mouth is hanging open.

“I’m really sorry,” the bear says again. He looks like he means it. “I didn’t realize anyone was behind me.” He hesitates. “I’m Abe.” “Heather,” I say.

The other weird thing is that Rachel hasn’t bought any books. Not even Dr. Conlon’s book, Anatomy: Inside Secrets. You’d think if she wanted to be a surgeon, she’d be studying her ass off right now in anticipation of our first anatomy lab tomorrow.

“You never know. I mean, who walks into medical school thinking, ‘Hey, I’m going to become a drug addict’?”

We’ve barely been apart for a week, and already, this long-distance thing sucks. I didn’t expect it to feel so… distant.

This is going to work out. I’ve got nothing to worry about.

Denial is a rivr in Egypt

Especially when Dreamy McCutie pulls off his shirt. Wow, look at that chest. Sheesh.

The girl responsible for this crevice was standing right where I was a year ago. She was changing into her scrubs in anticipation of her very first lab. Like me, she was probably a mix of excited and nervous.

Drug use is apparently rampant at our school and at the nearby college. Nobody entirely knows the source, but three years ago, a student at DeWitt overdosed and died. Then it happened again each of the next two years.

Or maybe some pills would do the trick. Apparently, they are pretty easy to get around here. Oh my God, why did that thought just pop into my head? I’m really starting to lose it.

Every med student I’ve seen so far today looks like they haven’t slept in weeks, but Mason seems like he’s just come back from a long vacation at a spa.

“And one day, you can come back with a shotgun and blow the brains out of all the other students.”

UMMMMM WHAT

“Friend of yours?” “Not even close.” That whole interaction was seriously strange. A shiver goes through me, and I’m suddenly very glad Abe insisted on coming with me.

Phil reaches into his pocket and produces a small container filled with tiny white pills. “Want one?” he asks. I can’t even conceal my horror. Oh my God. He’s offering me drugs.

“I’m fine,” I reply. And I mean it. Now that Abe is standing next to me, I feel about one hundred percent better.

“Psst… Hey.” Abe is nudging me. I look at him, and he’s holding out a pen to me. “I always bring a spare.” Like I said, Abe’s my guardian angel. I nod gratefully at him and take the pen. I scribble down my answer just as Dr. Conlon calls out, “Next station!”

I dutifully follow Abe to the parking lot. A minute ago, I’d been having some incredibly dark thoughts. Thank God for Abe.

I bet $5 they start dtng or he givess her drugs

He nudges my shoulder as he walks past. Don’t tell anyone, but I sort of love it when he touches me. My crush on Mason hasn’t abated in the least.

I’m pretty sure there are no little white pills that could make me feel any better than this.

“Hi…” Landon says. Actually, he sounds… oddly serious. But whatever. I’m not going to obsess for once. I prefer Serious Landon to the apathetic guy he’s been lately.

Landon might be the love of my life. But at this moment, I hate the bastard.

I would give anything to make this pain stop. If there were a pill I could take to feel better, I’d swallow it in a heartbeat. No. No. I’m not going to go down that path.

Abe lives upstairs—one flight up, to be exact. But I’m not looking for Abe right now. I’m looking for his roommate. Mason.

I’m about to tell Abe that he’s never seen me when I’m sick with a bad upper respiratory tract infection when he leans forward and presses his lips against mine. This, I did not expect. But it’s not bad.

Dating Abe is an experience like I had never imagined. Abe’s number-one concern in life seems to be Making Heather Happy. It’s almost overwhelming.

No. No way. Abe isn’t on drugs. I’d know if he were, and he just… he isn’t. He wouldn’t. I’m sure of it. I’d sooner believe he’s some sort of cyborg sent from the future with the singular purpose to excel in anatomy.

“A ninety-one,” Abe announces. He shrugs. “Pretty good, I guess.” “Pretty good?” I repeat, astonished. “Abe, that’s awesome! That’s honors.” “Yeah,” he says and allows himself the tiniest of smiles. Although I can see in his eyes that he truly doesn’t care.

And that is just super weird, folks.

No kidding!!

How hot would it be if I get into the shower with Abe? Of course, it would be a bit of a surprise, but what guy wouldn’t get turned on by something like that? I’m going to do it!

Get it sexyyyy

I hadn’t noticed Abe’s blue scrubs lying on the floor of the bathroom when I came into the room. But I get an eyeful of them now. They look different from the way they do in the anatomy lab. They are covered in reddish-brown stains, which are still slightly damp.

Oh????

If Abe had that much blood on his clothes, he’d be dead. Or someone else would be dead.

“But—” “Get out!” He really is screaming this time. I can see the veins standing out in his neck, and his right eye is twitching slightly. “Now!”

Thats suspiious.... Thats weird

The downpour of water is steady now—Abe isn’t moving in the shower. He’s just standing still, waiting for me to leave. What the hell is going on?

There’s a dark-brown substance caked into the nails that didn’t entirely come out in the shower. “You weren’t wearing gloves during the procedure?” I ask.

“Just working.” “You swear?” His shoulders heave. “I swear.” I have given him every chance to tell me the truth about what he was doing. And he’s still lying through his teeth.

No doubt

But I can't shake the feeling that he was lying to me.

Yes, med school is hard. But there are worse things. I could be dead.

“Anyway, make sure you tell Abe I’m looking for him. Please?” I am troubled by the note of desperation in Victor’s voice. “Okay,” I agree. What is going on here? He sounds the same way that Gerald/Harold guy sounded in the parking lot when he wanted to talk to Abe.

On a whim, I rest my hand on the doorknob. I hadn’t really expected it to be unlocked, but then the knob turns under my palm. I apply some gentle pressure, and the door swings open.

Something that terrifies me beyond words. Oh no. This is so much worse than I ever could have imagined.

The girl I’m going to marry. Okay, you’re rolling your eyes right now. I don’t blame you. I get it—I sound like a tool saying that. My friends from college would kick my ass. But when you know, you know. And right now, I know.