Chapter 3 - The Pain Behind Her Knee)
Emma lasted until third period.
She was sitting in chemistry when the pain in her right calf became impossible to ignore.
It no longer felt like soreness.
It felt deep.
Hot.
Tight.
She shifted her leg beneath the desk.
The movement made it worse.
Her teacher was explaining equilibrium when Emma raised her hand.
“Can I go to the nurse?”
Every head near her turned.
Emma never visited the nurse.
The teacher immediately nodded.
The hallway seemed longer than usual.
By the time Emma reached the health office, sweat had gathered beneath her hairline.
The nurse, Mrs. Patel, took one look at her and pointed toward a chair.
“What’s wrong?”
“Leg pain.”
“Anything else?”
Emma almost said no.
Then Caleb’s voice returned to her.
What if it isn’t?
“My chest feels tight.”
Mrs. Patel’s expression changed.
“Shortness of breath?”
“A little.”
“How long?”
“Maybe a week.”
“A week?”
Emma looked away.
Mrs. Patel clipped a pulse oximeter onto her finger.
Ninety-four.
Not catastrophic.
Not normal enough to ignore.
“Your heart rate is one-twenty-six.”
“I’m nervous.”
“You’re sitting down.”
Mrs. Patel crouched beside her.
“Is your leg swollen?”
“I don’t know.”
She compared Emma’s calves.
The right one did appear slightly larger.
“Any recent injury?”
“No.”
“Long trip?”
“No.”
“Medication?”
Emma hesitated.
“Birth control.”
Mrs. Patel nodded slowly.
“How long?”
“About four months.”
“Family history of blood clots?”
Emma’s stomach dropped.
“I don’t know.”
Mrs. Patel reached for the phone.
“I’m calling your mother.”
“Can you call Daniel?”
“Why?”
Emma did not answer.
Mrs. Patel looked at her carefully.
“I need an adult to take you for medical evaluation. Today.”
“My mom will say it’s anxiety.”
“Then I will tell your mother that I am concerned enough to recommend immediate evaluation.”
Emma looked at the clock.
“Could I just go after school?”
“No.”
The firmness in her answer made Emma afraid.
Mrs. Patel called Mom.
Emma heard only one side.
“Yes, this is the school nurse.”
“No, she has not fainted.”
“Yes.”
“I understand.”
“No, I don’t think we should assume that.”
A pause.
Mrs. Patel’s mouth tightened.
“Yes, I understand she has anxiety during exams. However, unilateral calf pain together with shortness of breath and tachycardia needs medical assessment.”
Another pause.
“No, I’m not diagnosing her.”
Emma closed her eyes.
She knew Mom’s tone without hearing it.
Eventually Mrs. Patel ended the call.
“She’s coming.”
Emma’s stomach sank.
Twenty-five minutes later, Mom entered.
She looked irritated before she looked worried.
“What happened?”
Mrs. Patel explained.
Mom listened with crossed arms.
Emma noticed that the phrase family history of clotting disorders made her mother blink.
Only once.
But Emma saw it.
Mrs. Patel handed her a written note.
“I recommend urgent evaluation.”
Mom smiled politely.
“Of course.”
The smile disappeared the second they entered the parking lot.
“You really couldn’t make it through one day?”
Emma stopped.
“What?”
“Your chemistry test.”
“I didn’t do this because of a test.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“You’re acting like it.”
Mom unlocked the car.
“I left a meeting.”
“Sorry.”
“And now I have to drive across town because the school nurse scared you with something she read on the internet.”
“She’s a nurse.”
“And I’m your mother.”
Emma stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know you.”
“Do you?”
Mom froze.
Emma immediately wished she could pull the words back.
But another week of silence seemed suddenly impossible.
“Did Michael have a blood disorder?”
Mom’s face emptied.
The parking lot noise seemed to fade.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Answer me.”
“Who told you?”
“Did he?”
Mom opened the driver’s door.
“Get in the car.”
“Mom.”
“Now.”
Emma did not move.
Mom looked around as if someone might be listening.
“Whatever you’ve been told, you do not understand the situation.”
“So he did.”
“Emma.”
“You told me no.”
“I told you what was relevant.”
“A hereditary condition isn’t relevant?”
Mom’s jaw tightened.
“Get in the car.”
Emma’s breathing quickened.
Pain shot through her calf.
She leaned against the vehicle.
Mom saw it.
For a moment fear crossed her face.
Then Emma steadied herself.
The fear disappeared.
“We’re going home,” Mom said.
Emma looked up.
“What?”
“I have a pulse oximeter at home. We can check you. If you still feel sick tonight, Daniel can take you somewhere.”
“The nurse said urgent care.”
“You’re eighteen. I cannot physically force you either way.”
It was technically permission.
Emotionally, Emma understood exactly what it meant.
If she insisted, she was overreacting.
If she went home, she was cooperative.
Emma got into the passenger seat.
Neither spoke for several blocks.
Then Emma’s phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
Did she tell you why Michael disappeared?
Emma typed with shaking fingers.
HE DIED.
The reply arrived instantly.
May you like
No.
He didn’t.
