Crying Wolf (Walter!)

[Samuel Rixon]

Samuel had mixed feelings on the medical ward. On one hand, it were a place to avoid the hell out of when he was truly ill. On the other, it was a great place to waste time and try to fake being sick. Usually to avoid exams.

Like today.

Instead of heading to History, like he should have been doing, Sam was heading quite the opposite way. He’d found over time that having a hotter-than-normal temperature was key to fake outs. He just had to try and make whoever was dealing with him forget about the fact he was pyrokinetic.

He’d done this dozens of times. All he had to do was list off some non-specific symptoms, look pathetic, and he’d be out of the history exam in no time.

It was almost too easy.

It really wasn’t his fault he hadn’t studied for the test. History was just so... boring. And he was pretty sure since Mr Tonaya was blind now, he wouldn’t even give quarter marks for an attempted answer, or a nice drawing of a dinosaur.

So, off to the infirmary he went.

Just a few steps away, he slipped into ‘sickie-mode’. He managed a pathetic look on his face, and slowed his steps. Today his performance would include mention of a sore thread, feeling like he was going to puke, and a fever. All gloriously non-specific, and two out of three were near impossible to detect via a third party.

This was going to work perfectly.

He slunk into the infirmary and flopped himself against the desk. “I’m gonna diiiiieee...”

[Walter Jenkins]

This wouldn't be the first time that Mr. Rixon had tried to pull the ill card on him. He had learned long ago to not take it as an insult. The pyrokinetic was just...that way. So when he slid into the infirmary and threw himself against Walter's desk, he was sort of proud of himself for not even jumping. Instead he put his pen down and gave the teenager a stern look.

"Mr. Rixon, I can't say I'm particularly surprised." He folded his hands over his desk and sighed inwardly, "What class are you missing today?" And, because that wasn't very charitable even if it was probably true, he also added, "What's the problem?"

It wasn't as though he wanted to automatically assume that the teenager was playing sick when he wasn't, but Walter was also no fool; he knew what students did because he was a student once. Even the best students sometimes over-exaggerated their symptoms to get a note excusing them from things. Mr. Rixon just did that far more than most.

[Samuel Rixon]

It would have to be Walter, wouldn’t it? The first time Sam had met the nurse, it had been easy to fool him. Now they both knew a bit more about each other, it was much harder. But that wasn’t to say that Sam didn’t try.

He tried not to let the words hurt as he propped himself up on his palm. He even managed to look a little hurt at the accusation. “History,” he managed to get out. “But I really want to go! I love Mr. Tonaya! He’s the best teacher.” Cue another sad look. “But I’m scared I’ll barf all over the test paper...”

There was one problem listed. He didn’t need much prompting.

“I’m hot all over, and I feel pukey, and my throat feels like someone stuffed something spikey down it when I was sleepin’.” All very plausible things, and he’d reinforced the fact that he loved History class. Maybe now Walter would take a little pity on him?

"... And I even studied for this one." There. Walter had to pity him now.

[Walter Jenkins]

Walter nodded, “Mr. Tonaya is a good teacher. I’m surprised you’re willing to skip out on his test. It’ll be much more work for him on the other end.” He adjusted his papers and idly wished that he had glasses just so he could peer over them sternly. It would be a nice touch anyways.

Walter huffed out a sigh, “Well. I suppose we ought to have a look then.” He beckoned the teen into the spare examination room and motioned for him to sit down. “All right,” Walter said as he pulled on a pair of gloves, “You said your throat feels sore? I guess we should have a look at that first.” He took out the small flashlight and nodded to Sam, "Open up."

Really, Rixon was lucky that Walter barely had anything else to do, because this was probably a waste of his time.

[Samuel Rixon]

Was Walter trying to pull a guilt trip on the teenager? For shame. Sadly, it went straight over Sam’s head. “I’d puke all over the test. That’s more work for him, ain’t it?” No, he wasn’t considering how much work Morgan would have to do for a make up test. He was considering what he’d do with his free period. Periods if he was lucky.

Walter, punish him. Please.

Sam tried to curb the enthusiasm he was feeling when the nurse relented and invited him further into the infirmary. That meant he had to be taking him seriously, right? Right.

Still trying to look pathetic, the pyro ambled slowly after Walter and flopped himself onto the bed. He didn’t even think about the fact that sore throats were more often than not red, and his was really not even close to red. Oh well. Even if that was busted, he could still whine about a fever and feeling ill.

Obedient for one of the few times in his life, he opened his mouth and waited.

[Walter Jenkins]

Ah well. It was worth a shot. Sometimes the guilt trip worked well enough; at the very least, fear of falling out with a favored teacher usually sent most students to at least amend their illnesses to something less severe. But really, Walter should have known better than to try that with Samuel. Walter shook his head slightly, “I suppose that is true.”

As he suspected, Sam’s throat looked clean and healthy, all things considered. There wasn’t any indication of infection or inflammation. He didn’t even look like he had allergies. Walter leaned back and sighed.

“Well, isn’t that odd,” the nurse fought back the urge to roll his eyes, “Sam, I don’t see any sign of a sore throat down there. Your throat isn’t even red. What are we going to do about that?”

[Samuel Rixon]

Nothing was going to deter Sam from his mission of getting out of class. Not even a guilt trip, courtesy of one Nurse Jenkins. Normally, he would have been teasing Walter (again) about being a male nurse, but sick Sammies don’t do such things. Sick Sammies are subdued and, gasp, quiet.

He stayed remarkably still during the throat exam, not even kicking his feet or wiggling or making obnoxious noises. He was so glad he’d taken drama last semester. It really did come in handy for situations like this.

... At least until Walter gave him the terrible news that his throat looked fine. Thinking fast had never, ever been Sam’s strong suit, so he mentally scrambled. He couldn’t get busted. Not yet. His feeble brain cells floundered before providing him with an out.

“That’s ‘cause it’s not that bad. It’s more like I’m gonna hurl. Aaaand I’m hot. Really hot.” He wasn’t ready for this game to end. Even if he didn’t end up with a pass, if he could distract Walter long enough, History would be over anyway.

He could hope.

[Walter Jenkins]

“Uh-huh.” Walter crossed his arms over his chest, “Well, you know what’s interesting? I had a talk to Dr. Prideaux and do you know what she told me? She mentioned that pyrokinetics have a higher core body temperature than normal. Isn’t that interesting?” He somehow managed to keep his amusement hidden, “So what do you think? Maybe I should call Dr. Prideaux and get her professional opinion.”

He moved to the phone and glanced at the teenager over his shoulder, “And if you’re feeling nauseous, I have some medicine you can take. I’m sorry it mostly tastes like garbage.”

Gross tasting medicine and the threat of a staff member who would know he was lying. Sorry Mr. Rixon, it would appear you’ve been had.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sam squirmed as he listened, feeling more and more like this was going to end badly. “Uhhhhh.... I think I knew that....” And he couldn’t even claim that he was hotter than that, considering that when he really did have a fever, he tended to burn things (and people). Not to mention, he walked around in shorts and t-shirts because there really was such a thing as too hot for a pyrokinetic.

His mood sank even lower at the offer of devil medicine. It sounded even worse than the stuff Ember had made him take last time he was legitimately sick. He shook his head. “Nooooo. I think I’m feeling better now!” So much so that he got down from the bed. “Totally better! Guess I’ll just... go... to history.” And with that, he slunk to the door as fast as he could scuttle.

Devil medicine was not worth skipping class for.