“Twoyears,” Tom continues, “due to a first demerit that we must award you due to lengthy unknown affiliation.”
“That’s bullshit,” Sid barks.
“I have to make judgments where I can. It’s been sixteen years since TNS destroyed Port Alberni,” says Tom, glaring at him. “She could have fallen in with any number of aggressive factions during that time. The Denman Dogs. Red-Whites. TNS themselves. I’m being incredibly generous here.”
“It’s fine,” I say. For one thing, I bet Astolia is on that list too, so I’m getting off easy. Besides, why should I carethat I can’t apply for citizenship right away? We’re leaving this island as soon as April is well.
“Good. One demerit.” Tom scribbles that on the head of the page with enthusiasm. “In your care is a dependent, fifteen-year-old April Hollins. Per Sanctuary Law, she is entitled to enrollment in the Gulf Islands Secondary School. I suggest you see to it that she gets there. Otherwise, you’ll be awarded another demerit.”
“Okay.” For now, I’ll agree to everything. All I want is out of this room.
“I’ll check in every three months, though either of you may reach out if there are problems.” Tom shoulders his bag and heads for the door. I’m once again struck by the desire to rush forward and kick him in his bad leg.
There’s a drawn-out silence after he’s gone, during which I stare at Sid as he picks up the sanctuary papers Tom left behind. Even in those simple motions, the tendons in his wrist flex in a way that’s equal parts mesmerizing and terrifying. He may have defended me, but as I consider living with this man, it strikes me all over again that he isnotsomeone I would approach at a watering hole. He could do anything to me. Once we’re alone, who’s to say what he might try?
“Sorry about Tom.” Sid breaks the silence. “He’s a grumpy piece of shit, but he means well. If that makes sense.”
It does not. I say nothing.
Sid forces a smile. “All right. Looks like you’re coming with me.”
“Now? But my sister is still in there. I haven’t seen her since—”
“Right. Sorry. Of course.” Sid grabs both the hiking packs April and I carried in with us, swinging one up onto his shoulder. “Go check with the front desk. I’ll wait for you.”
I stare at him, blood hammering in my ears. I don’t get the impression he likes me much, but he’s better than prison, isn’t he?
Unless I’m only being sent to a different cage.
It doesn’t matter. Like it or not, I’m stuck with Sid Charles for the foreseeable future.
“LUCKY FOR US, it’s a straightforward diagnosis.”
Doctor Tremblay breaks the news with a smile. We’re seated inside a room that looks more like how I pictured hospitals. A curtain has been pulled across the middle to give the illusion of privacy on one side. April is wearing a loose gown and sitting on a metal bed. She’s attached to an IV tube, but otherwise looks like herself and the doctor says not to worry. The IV is to rehydrate her; she’ll come off it in a couple hours.
A steady hum emanates from the IV, like a beehive. Odds are, that’s the sound of electricity. It’s surreal to know that somewhere, there’s a solar cell or turbine that April is hooked up to, pumping her body back to life. She has colour in her cheeks and a grin on her face. After all the agony of getting here, it’s worth it. One look at her, and it’s clearly worth it.
“I gave her an emergency dose of insulin when she came in and she’s responded well. Given that, I feel confident making a diagnosis,” says Doctor Tremblay. “We’re still running tests to confirm, but I don’t foresee any complications. Sadly, procedures that used to be simple take timenow. We’re waiting for the liquid from her urine sample to evaporate.”
“Urine sample?” I repeat.
“They made me pee in a cup when I came in. Said there might be sugar in it.” April’s face puckers up, like she wants to laugh.
“I’m sorry…what?”
“Sugar crystals can form in the urine of those with untreated diabetes. It’s not the best verification method, but one of the few we still have,” says the doctor.
He keeps making these apologetic statements, clearly aware of what medicine used to be before the Quake, but from my perspective, he’s a magician. April was dying, and now she’s not. It’s that simple.
“But the medicine is working? The… what did you call it?”
“Insulin. Yes, it is.”
“Great. So she’s better? We can go?” I still need to pay them, but hopefully my mother’s earrings will cover that, and we can get off this damn island. If we can, I will scream, dance, throw myself into the ocean and swim across the Salish Sea.
The doctor’s welcoming smile fades, as if I’ve said something pitifully stupid. “I would like to keep her for observation tonight.”
“Good. Sure, let’s do that.” I can wait one night. I’ll crash at Sid’s place and sleep with the largest stick I can find tucked under my pillow.
