Free Otherbound by Corinne Duyvis

“Sorry. I’m fine. Thank you.”
    â€œHuh.” Sarah shuffled her feet, as if she wanted to leave but wasn’t sure how. “Those small ones … Luisa said they happen every time you blink?”
    â€œNot every blink,” Nolan lied. “But often.”
    â€œFreaky.”
    â€œPeople can have hundreds of seizures a day. It’s on Wikipedia.” Nolan couldn’t have people disbelieving him. If anyone realized he didn’t have epilepsy, they’d want to put him through testing that Dad’s insurance didn’t cover, and his parents would pay for it, anyway, no matter how far in debt they already were after all the prostheses and custom shoes and those damn pills.
    â€œAnd Wikipedia never lies, right?” Sarah looked slightly more at ease.
    â€œNever.” Nolan smiled wanly, his mind still on Amara— who was headed back to the granary as thunderclouds met overhead. Magic backlash, she was sure of it —and tried to pay attention to Sarah, instead. He wasn’t used to this. Whenever people made rare, awkward attempts at small talk, they avoided mentioning the seizures or his leg. Sarah didn’t seem bothered. She didn’t even seem
curious
, like some of the freshmen who sometimes walked up and gaped; she seemed
interested
. Nolan went on despite himself. “The small seizures happen most of the time. The big ones come every few weeks or months.” Whenever Cilla hurt herself. Whenever Jorn got angry.
    â€œWow. Sucks.”
    â€œI can’t complain. I’m safe as long as I’m careful.” He hesitated. “Other people have it much worse.”
    â€œSafe,” she repeated. It had to be an odd choice of words. “And you feel them coming?”
    â€œYeah. It’s called an aura.”
    â€œCool. I’ll definitely check out that Wiki page.” Sarah gave a half-assed salute. “Gotta go, or Suarez will bite my head off.” She jogged off before Nolan could answer. He watched her leave, and only when she disappeared into the girls’ bathroom did he realize this was the longest conversation he’d had with a classmate in weeks.
    The thought should excite him or bother him—he didn’t know which. He felt neither.
That
bothered him. He grimaced, rubbed a hand across his face, and returned to the Dunelands.

    â€œThe pills aren’t working.” The sooner he stopped wasting his parents’ money, the better.
    â€œIt’s a little early to determine that. This medication can take months to take effect.” Dr. Campbell was used to Nolan by now. He’d told her the same thing a dozen times in the past few years. Next, she’d tell him not to give up hope, that all these medications were different and who knew what he’d end up responding to, and he’d sit in that plush chair in her office and try not to let his doctor-smiles turn into doctor-grimaces. He’d heard the exact same thing from Dad the day before, and he was tired beyond anything—
    â€”by now the storm was in full swing, thunder tearing through the skies—
    â€œâ€”a positive attitude. You’d be surprised how much difference it makes.”
    â€œOf course.” Smile. Don’t forget to smile. “You’re right.”
    â€œAny side effects?” Dr. Campbell studied something on her bulky iMac, then wiped at a smudge with her thumb. “We can adjust the dosage if they’re bothering you. Your blood levels came back within therapeutic ranges, but there’s wiggle room.”
    â€œHeadaches. Tired. The usual.”
    â€œAny behavioral changes? Nausea? You’ve always been prone to that.”
    â€œIt’s fine.” Nolan hesitated. Yesterday’s tryst with the toilet had been his own damn fault, but Dad had said to tell her. “I threw up yesterday. I’m OK now. I just messed up on the dosage, and …” His breath caught.
    Sarah