Page 3 of Forging Chaos

The nurse tells me to prepare for discharge around lunchtime and leaves me in peace, but the door to my room bursts open again immediately.

This time, it's a girl I vaguely recognize from one of my classes. She’s with my roommate Stellan, who looms behind her, tugging at his shirt collar.

What the hell?

Thora, I think her name is. She’s tiny and loud in class, and I think I’m supposed to work with her on a project. She's clutching a metal container to her chest, looking flustered and out of breath.

"Odin!" she exclaims and rushes to my bedside like we’ve known each other for years. “I brought you cookies.”

Stellan leans on the wall, clearly out of breath from trying to keep up with this pint-sized, treat-yielding woman. I’m about to ask what the hell she's doing here when she barrels on, “I feel responsible for this.” She waves a hand around at my leg, which is engulfed in my brand-new plastic boot. “I was bitching about working with you, and there you were on the television. And then all this happened. Not that I think I control evil demons or something. I’m not the real Thora.”

I stare at her. “Am I high? Are you here right now?”

Stellan waves. “She showed up at the apartment. I offered to bring her in. She has cookies.” He points at the tin, and she nods.

“I am sorry to interrupt while you’re sick. Are you sick? Injured. It’s just that I wanted to let you know…about our class project. It's due soon, and with you being...well, here, I wasn't sure how we were going to finish it, and I need this grade to maintain my scholarship, and-"

I cut her off, overwhelmed. "Seriously? I'm lying here in a robotic cast with my career in shambles, and you're worried about a class project?"

Thora's face falls, and I see the moment she realizes how she's come across. "I- I'm sorry," she stammers. "I didn't mean...Of course, your health is the most important thing. I just... I cannot get a bad grade on this assignment. I have a fellowship lined up for grad school, and I can't lose it. I was wondering if you wanted me to go ahead and do the whole project. And I made you cookies.”

Something in her voice, in the desperate look in her eyes,makes me pause. She waves the metal tin at me, and I reach for it. For the first time, I look at Thora—not just as the bossy, intense girl from class but as a person with dreams and fears. Plus, I know something about losing a shot at a big dream.

"Grad school, huh?" I say, my tone softer now. "What are you going to study?"

I fumble with the cookie tin lid as Stellan scratches his neck.

Thora reaches for the container and opens it for me, handing me a cookie. I feel a little zing as our fingers touch, but it’s probably because I’m high on painkillers. Or something.

She tells me she won an award and is going to study international policy in England. I can’t keep up. The meds are kicking in big time, and I’m groggy and struggling to chew the cookie. When I open my eyes again, I see Thora holding the foam cup of water near my face, tapping my cheek with the straw.

Is she taking charge of this situation? I don’t hate it.

I sip and meet her eye, not sure what I see there, which tracks, because I’m not sure of anything right now.

I swallow the water and say, “Thank you.” She nods and sets the cup back on the table. I try to move the container of cookies, but my arms aren’t paying attention to my brain right now.

I arch a brow. Or maybe I squint. I’m not sure, but Thora shifts her weight uncomfortably. Stellan sighs and walks over to the bed, placing his palm on my head like he’s some sort of priest offering a blessing. “Hey, man,” he grunts. “Sucks about your foot.”

I nod. At least, I think I do. He shakes his head and reaches for a cookie, but I have just enough concentration left to swat his arm out of the way. “Those are mine,” I growl.

Thora presses her lips together. “Okay, well, I wrote mycell on the cookie container. I don’t need it back, by the way. I just wanted you to be able to contact me. About class.”

Stellan sets a hand on her shoulder, and something unpleasant flicks through my chest. What’s his deal with Thora? He says, “I’ll take you back to the apartment.”

She shakes her head. “No, thanks. Fern and Wyatt are going to be making up for lost time.” She checks her watch. “I have a shift soon. I can walk.”

Stellan frowns at her and glances at me. I try to frown at him. Something is off about this. I wish my head were working. He groans and says, “I’ll drop you at the bar, okay? And I won’t touch any more of his cookies.” My cousin tosses a grin at me and then walks out of the room, squeezing my good leg on his way out the door. Thora follows, looking uneasy. I can’t get a read on her.

But then, I can’t get a read on anything right now. Except I’m pretty sure she plowed in here to tell me she’s going to do our whole project without me, and that stings more than my incision. I am literally not in control of any part of my life, from my digestion to my rehab schedule.

Maybe I can handle a group project.

“Don’t count on doing the paper alone,” I bark.

She turns to face me from the hall, brow furrowed. “Sorry, what?”

“It’s a team grade,” I tell her, tapping my fingers on the metal container that looks like it used to contain multiple pounds of shelled and salted peanuts. “We’re a team. We’ll do it together.”

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