Page 2 of The Chemistry Test

Cam

I keep telling myself to chill out, but I can’t stop looking over at the automatic doors every time they swing open.

I’m hoping no one I know comes in, even though it wouldn’t really matter if they did.

It’s not like they’d know why I’m here. And yet I can’t stop watching them anyway, just to be sure.

There’s a clock above the desk, but even without it, you’d know it was somewhere between nine and five on a weekday. Apart from the receptionists and a girl in a wheelchair, it’s safe to say I’m the only one under seventy here.

Near the door, there’s a couple hugging each other, both with white hair and talking as quietly as their hearing aids allow.

I’m half watching the door, half watching them, when the girl in the wheelchair rams into my feet, making me jump and knocking off my trusty grey cap in the process.

I catch it just before she runs over that too.

‘Whoa! Sorry!’ she says, frantically tapping her hand on the wheel. She backs up, untangling us, and I’m about to tell her not to worry about it when she holds up her wrist to show me something.

‘It’s my first time using this thing out of the house,’ she says, pointing to the Fitbit on her wrist. ‘I can’t believe I just did that. Are you okay?’

It didn’t look like she was playing around with it, but her eyes are wide, and I can tell she feels bad.

‘It’s all good,’ I say, scraping my own chair back a bit to give her some space.

You’d think doctors’ practices would be the one place without such an issue, but I guess not.

For a place made for ill and disabled people, there really isn’t much room for wheelchairs in here.

I never noticed it before. She thanks me and heads over to the reception desk, tapping her wrist at seemingly odd moments.

It’s not until she’s rolling back past me that I figure it out.

‘Ohh.’ It seems obvious now. ‘The band controls the wheelchair!’

I didn’t mean to say it at all, let alone so loudly.

‘Exactly!’ She nods. ‘What did you think I was showing you?’

I don’t want to admit it, but I can’t think of anything else to say.

‘Your Fitbit.’ It sounds even more stupid out loud. Nice one, Cameron.

‘It does look a bit like one,’ she says, and now we’re both looking at it. Her arms are petite like the rest of her and the black band stands out against her tanned skin and gold bracelets. I look up to face her again.

‘How does it work?’

Her eyes light up like she’s been wanting to tell someone. ‘It’s actually really clever,’ she says. ‘The band controls the little black thing on the back of my wheelchair –the SmartDrive – which turns this manual wheelchair into a power chair.’

I have to lean right back to look at it. It is pretty cool. I tell her so.

‘Penelope Steele,’ a deep voice calls, and her eyes follow the doctor walking around the corner.

‘That’s me. Good luck with your appointment.’ She smiles wide, before tapping her wrist again. It’s the brightest thing I’ve seen all day.