Free RESURRECTED by Morgan Rice

called some of your friends—”

    “Seriously?” Scarlet asked, sitting upright, reddening. “You called my friends? Why? That’s so embarrassing. How did you get their numbers?” Then she realized. “Did you raid my phone? How could you do that?”
    She leaned back in bed, sighing, staring at the ceiling, exasperated.
    “This is so mortifying. I’ll never live this down. How am I going to face everyone? Now they’ll think I’m some kind of freak or something.”
    “Honey, I’m sorry, but you were sick, and we couldn’t find you—” Suddenly the door to the room opened, and in walked a man who was clearly her doctor, strutting in with authority, flanked by two residents, each holding clipboards. They walked right to the clipboard at the base of Scarlet’s bed and read the chart.
    Caitlin was glad for the interruption, defusing their argument.
    A nurse trailed them, and walked up to Scarlet and raised her hospital bed to a sitting position.
    She wrapped her bicep and read her blood pressure, then inserted a digital thermostat in her ear and read it to the doctor.
    “Normal,” she announced to the doctor, as he read the clipboard, nodding. “The same as when she came in here. We found nothing wrong with her at all.”
    “I feel fine,” Scarlet chimed in. “I know I was sick yesterday, I guess I had a fever or whatever.
    But I’m fine now. Actually, I’d really like to go to school. I have a lot of tests today. And some damage control to do,” she added, looking angrily at her parents. “And I’m hungry. Can I go now?” Caitlin was worried by Scarlet’s reaction, her insistence on trying to just brush all this under the rug and jump back into normal life. She looked at Caleb, hoping he felt the same, but she sensed in him, too, a desire to forget all this and to rush back to normalcy. He seemed relieved.
    “Scarlet,” the doctor began. “Is it okay if I examine you and ask you a few questions?”
    “Sure.”

    He handed his clipboard to one of his residents, removed his stethoscope, placed it on her chest, and listened. He then placed his fingers on various spots on her stomach, then reached out and took her wrists, and bent her arms in various directions. He felt her lymph nodes, felt her throat, and felt the pressure points behind her elbows and knees.
    “I’m told you were sent home from school yesterday with a fever,” he said. “How do you feel now?”
    “I feel great,” she responded, chipper.
    “Can you describe to me how you were feeling yesterday?” he pressed.
    Scarlet furrowed her brow.
    “It’s kind of hazy, to be honest,” she said. “I was in class and I, like, started to feel really sick.
    My head hurt, and the light hurt my eyes, and I felt really achy…I remember feeling really cold when I got home….But other than that it’s kind of a blur.”
    “Do you have any memory of yesterday, of anything that happened after you got sick?” he asked.
    “I was just telling my parents, I don’t. I’m sorry. They said I was like sleepwalking or something.
    But I don’t remember. Anyway, I’d really like to get back to class.” The doctor smiled.
    “You’re a strong and brave young girl, Scarlet. I admire your work ethic. I wish that all teenagers were like you,” he said with a wink. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to your parents for a few minutes. And yes, I see no reason why you can’t return to school. I’ll talk to the nurses and we’ll begin the paperwork to discharge you.”
    “Yes!” Scarlet said, clenching her first in excitement as she sat up, her eyes gleaming.
    The doctor turned to Caitlin and Caleb.
    “May I talk to the two of you in private?”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Caitlin and Caleb follow the doctor down the hall and into his large, brightly-lit office, the morning sun streaming in through the windows.
    “Please, take a seat,” he said in his reassuring, authoritative voice, gesturing towards the two chairs opposite his desk, as he