I stare at her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“You really want to see that?” It’s hard for me to believe any woman would want to see that movie.
“I just want to hang out with you,” Heather says, and she winks. “Besides, zombies are awesome. No?”
I’m going to marry her someday. I’ve never wanted anything this badly in my life, even getting into med school.
“Heather,” I say. “I love…” Crap. I can’t say it. “I love seeing movies with you. A lot.”
Her brown eyes twinkle. “I love seeing movies with you too. A lot.”
I can’t screw this up. I wish I had never taken that stupid job.
21
Patrice saidthat if I had a problem, I could come to her and that it would be confidential. Now I've got a problem, and it better be confidential, because if she tells anyone, I might end up in handcuffs.
I make an appointment with her for immediately after anatomy lab is over—I’m not going to smell great, but she’ll have to deal with it. Except just as I am leaving the lab, Dr. Conlon approaches me, gripping his cane in his left hand. Despite the fact that he walks with a cane, he is the youngest of all our professors by at least a decade, and yet there is a weariness in his eyes that makes him look older.
“Dr. Kaufman,” he says.
“Uh, hi.” I shift between my dirty sneakers, which I only wear for anatomy lab. The second I get out of here, I change into another pair. “What's up?”
Like the rest of us, Dr. Conlon wears scrubs to the lab. And also like the rest of us, he always manages to glove up and get dirty over the course of the four to five hours. I'm sure he is just as eager to change into clean clothes as I am, but here we are.He looks me over, staring at me like he is sizing me up. “Did you spray down the body before you covered it?”
“Uh…” I tug at the collar of my scrubs, wanting desperately to change into something that doesn’t have formaldehyde and flecks of preserved intestines on it. “Yes?”
He doesn’t move away from the entrance to the door—he’s still blocking me. “It looked desiccated today. You need to do a better job.”
“Okay. I will.” When he doesn’t move aside, I add, “You meannow?”
“Yes, Dr. Kaufman.Now.”
This sharp tone is not what I have come to expect from Dr. Conlon. He’s generally really nice in the lab. Easygoing. Everyone in the class seems to like him, even students who aren't doing as well in anatomy. Why is he suddenly being an asshole?
“I, uh… I have an appointment to get to,” I explain.
“An appointment?”
“With Patrice.”
He sucks in a breath when I tell him this. Despite the fact that we have all been encouraged to have regular visits with Patrice, he looks distinctly unhappy to hear that I am going to see her. Except why?
Is he worried about something I might say to her?
My gut is telling me Dr. Conlon is the one pushing students in the direction of Kovak’s clinic. After all, I heard about the clinic from the sign posted on the bulletin board outside the anatomy lab. And now, right after I confronted Kovak, he’s suddenly giving me a hard time. Maybe Kovak has shared my feelings about the clinic.
Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want me to talk to Patrice. He’s afraid of what I might reveal to her.
“Fine,” he finally says. “Go. Just don’t forget next time.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
Even though I’m in a rush, there is no way I am going to Patrice’s office without changing first. I swap out my scrubs for the T-shirt and jeans I had been wearing before, and I stuff my tainted sneakers in my locker. By the time I make it to Patrice’s office, she is waiting by the door, looking pointedly at her watch.
“Sorry,” I say breathlessly. “It was… I got… held up.”
