THE GLUCOSE

That day’s PE session was a two-lap endurance run, under the rare gentle October sun of the Cotswolds.

After finishing, I sat down on the stone steps by the field, hands trembling as I opened my jacket pocket to take out the glucose gel, ready to twist off the cap and eat it right away — my body had already started sending its familiar signals: a light-headed haze, hands going cold despite the mild weather.

Before I could open it, a hand snatched the tube straight out of mine.

“Everyone ran the same distance, so why do you get special privileges eating sweets in the middle of PE?”

Rosalind stood there, waving the tube in front of me, her voice still soft but each word sharp as a blade.

“Give it back,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady even as my head began to spin.

“It’s not a snack, it’s medicine.”

“What kind of medicine comes as an orange-flavoured gel sweet?” Rosalind laughed lightly, turning to the small crowd of curious students who’d stopped to watch.

“I don’t mean anything by it, I just think — if everyone gets to eat mid-session for their own personal reasons, where’s the fairness for the rest of us who have to wait, hungry, until lunch?”

I opened my mouth to explain, but the dizziness hit faster than I expected.

My vision blurred, my knees buckled, my whole body pitched forward.

“Cordelia!”

Amelia’s shout rang out, she lunged in time, catching me before I fell face-first onto the ground.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Amelia was nearly shaking with rage, one arm holding me steady, the other pointing straight at Rosalind.

“That’s glucose gel, that’s life-saving medicine, not a snack! She has Addison’s, a sugar crash can make her pass out, it can even be fatal!”

Rosalind froze for a second — just one second — before her eyes welled up, her voice cracking right on cue, loud enough for the students who’d just stopped to hear clearly.

“I… I didn’t know it was that serious… I just thought, simply, that no one should get special treatment over anyone else…”

My dizziness eased a little thanks to the piece of gel Amelia managed to wrestle back from Rosalind’s hand in the chaos, pressing it into my mouth.

A little steadier, I stumbled to my feet and walked toward Rosalind before I could think it through.

My hand swung out, a sharp crack ringing across the silent field.