THE GLUCOSE

I woke to the sound of an ambulance siren and the familiar smell of antiseptic in the school medical room.

Dr. Hartley stood by the bed, blood glucose monitor in hand, her expression grave, nothing like her usual composure.

“Her blood sugar on admission was twenty-nine,” she said, not to me, but turned to speak loudly to the group of staff and students still gathered outside the medical room, Rosalind among them.

“Twenty-nine. Below forty is already a dangerous threshold that can cause coma in a normal person. For an Addison’s patient like Cordelia, this level is enough to cause permanent brain damage, even death, if treatment had been delayed even a few more minutes.”

The corridor outside fell utterly silent.

“Who stopped her from reaching her medication?” Dr. Hartley asked, her gaze sweeping across every face gathered there.

“I need to know exactly what happened out on that field.”

Rosalind, standing at the end of the corridor, stammered.

“I… I didn’t know it was that serious… I just thought an apple would work just as well…”

“Didn’t know?” Amelia stepped forward, her voice shaking from a panic not yet settled, phone still gripped tight in her hand.

“Three weeks ago you snatched her glucose tube right in front of the whole field, I told you clearly it was life-saving medicine, not a snack. You stood there and heard every word, so how can you say you didn’t know now?”

Rosalind turned, eyes brimming.

“Amelia, why are you accusing me like this? I was only trying to be kind to Cordelia, why does everyone think I meant to hurt her?”

“Intentional or not, let the evidence speak,” Amelia didn’t back down, holding up her phone.

“I have video of you with your foot on the tube, a recording of you talking to Genevieve last week about wanting to ‘see how the girl would react without it,’ and the backup tube found dumped in the bin behind the sports building, which I reported to Dr. Hartley three days ago.”