In the Arms of Morpheus

"Callie! Get up, and don't make me come up there!"

The voice filtered through the pillow which covered my head, interrupting the dream in which I was making out with the delectable Damon Salvatore from Vampire Diaries. Arg! It's always the good dreams that get interrupted and never the ones where you're being chased by giant bunny rabbits who want to eat your brains.

I pried my eyes open and stared at the ceiling of my lilac bedroom. When I was younger the walls had been decorated with ballerina posters and dolls and, even though the ballerinas and dolls had faded along with my childhood, the lilac walls remained.

"Callista Natalie Georgiou, I'm not speaking again! You're going to be late for school!"

Who needs an alarm clock when you have a mother?

I dragged myself out of bed and grabbed the first items of clothing which I laid my hands on – a baby blue vest and a pair of jeans – tugging them on unceremoniously. With that done, I ambled into the bathroom. My hair was a mess of dark brunette curls somehow resembling a bird's nest in its dishevelled style. I grabbed my hairbrush and yanked it through my hair in order to tame the wild beast before applying a thin layer of eyeliner and mascara. The make-up was purely an effort to prevent my best friend from nagging me about not making an effort for our first day as seniors.

As if being a senior was such a big change from being a junior.

With that done, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Our house was old. Built in the 1930s, it still had all of its original trimmings. Hardwood panels and floral wallpapers decorated almost every wall in the house, creating an effect which left you feeling trapped in a time warp. It was only in the past two years that my mother had forced my father to relent and they finally tiled the bathroom and kitchen, ripping out the last shreds of linoleum which had remained in the house since the dark ages. Parquet ran throughout the rest of the home and gleamed like glass under the tender loving care of my parents. The kitchen, in direct contrast, was completely modern. Decked out with top-class cookware and appliances it was blatant to all who visited where the centre of the home was.

"Callista! You'd better be up!" my mother roared.

My family is Greek and proud of it. In stereotypical Greek fashion we are loud, carefree and we own a restaurant which –surprise, surprise – serves Greek food. Sometimes it feels as if we just launched ourselves out of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, with a few exceptions of course.

My father, a large man with the heart of a teddy bear, sat at the breakfast table reading the morning's paper, sipping a cup of coffee as my mother, a tiny creature, made pancakes. In retrospect, they're completely the opposite of each other which is probably a blessing. My mother's firecracker personality needed some watering down, and my father's calm and collected ways were just the type of fire extinguisher needed.

"Good morning Mama, good morning Baba." I said as cheerfully as I could muster this early in the morning, kissing both of them on the cheek in our usual morning greeting.

"Good morning my kori." my father replied using the Greek word for daughter, although still not lowering his paper.

I sat down as my mother placed a plate of perfectly stacked pancakes in front of me, drowning them in gloriously golden syrup. Yummy! I poured myself a cup of coffee in an attempt to wake myself up before digging into my breakfast. I don't think I could live without my daily dose of caffeine.

As I reached for a fork, my eyes caught the unopened envelope situated next to my plate with my name on it in bold, sloppy print and decorated with stamps.

"Niklos wrote?" I grinned, tearing at the envelope to free the letter and marvelling at the fact that the idiot still posted letters instead of emailing, texting, or even just calling.

Niklos, my elder brother by three years and my only salvation from within my family, had been sent to university in Greece. He had told my parents that he wanted to "experience and witness life through the lens of his heritage" but it my opinion he just wanted to experience life independently and out from under the ever watchful gaze of my mother. While my parents obviously didn't fall hook, line and sinker into his grand scheme, they were ecstatic at the possibility that my brother may fall madly in love with a Greek girl and bring her home to marry and start a large, loud, crazy Greek family of his own.

His letter, as always, contained telling of the humorous ventures in which he constantly found himself. I chuckled to myself as he wrote in detail about his failed attempt to get a girl's number in a market. She led him on a scavenger hunt throughout the market, only to discover that she was a tourist who couldn't speak English or Greek.

"Are you going to school like that?" my mother piped up from across the kitchen, an odd expression plastered on her face.

Peering over the paper, my father looked me over. "There's nothing wrong with what she's wearing, Delia."

My mother mumbled under her breath about making a good first impression as a senior but took the comments no further, successfully guilting me into treading back to my room after breakfast and changing into a summer dress which my mother had bought a few weeks back. Personally, I believe that she had bought it specifically for that very occasion.

"Won't Kayla love this," I whispered to myself as I looked in the mirror. My hair curled slightly as it brushed my waist, contrasting clearly with the turquoise and white floral print. More floral! Could my parents get any weirder? The upside of this monstrosity was that it actually accentuated my figure in all the right places and made my ice-blue eyes sparkle. I was of the average size and the average weight with an average hair colour so I was proud of my unusual eyes, made even more unusual by my heritage.

I mean, who ever saw a Greek girl with blue eyes?

Brushing my teeth furiously and grabbing my backpack, I raced down to catch up with my father in order to grab a lift to school. Dad worked at the University of California as a lecturer of ancient Greece and mythology, a rather useless topic in my opinion, but my father loved it almost as much as he loved his 1980s model Cadillac. Grabbing a lift with him to school instead of taking the bus meant that I would be early enough to catch up a bit with Kayla before we had to rush off to home room.

Kayla, my best friend from elementary school, was the sister I never had. Her blonde hair and bombshell body had made her popular in our sophomore year, however she lost most of her followers as soon as she opened her mouth and voiced her opinions of how sexist and brainless cheerleading is. This all occurred when the cheerleading squad tried to rope her into joining them. Needless to say, they weren't impressed by her views on their sport and spent a few months trying to drag her name through the dust so that she would transfer schools.

It didn't work.

As Carmel High School neared I looked at the sombre building and prayed a quick prayer of thanksgiving that this would be the last year I would tread the halls of my prison. The school's dark grey exterior was not softened by the stairs in front of it or the odd bush which had been planted in an attempt to make the school Eco-friendly. Students (and fellow inmates) littered the steps in little groups, chatting about what they had done over the summer break. Yup, back to the grind.

My father pulled up to the left of the stairs and turned to look at me. "Well, Callista, this is the last first day of school you'll ever have." he said sombrely. "Do you have everything you need? Did you bring money for the cafeteria?"

"Yes, Baba."

It was really hard not to laugh at his sombre tone – as if he was dropping me off with a transcript to go off to war. In a way, he was. High school was just a different kind of war.

With him put at ease, I kissed my father's cheek and vacated the car, watching him drive off into the golden sunrise as if we were part of a cheesy film.

Looking up at the steps I saw the usual scene unfold before my eyes. There were the cheerleaders gossiping on the lowest tier, the jocks checking the cheerleaders out and comparing muscles, the stoners staring off into the distance, the emos sulking in a corner, the band geeks talking about band camp and the nerds attempting to look cool as they edged their way closer to the school entrance in breathless anticipation of another academic year.

Yes, the steps resembled an upside-down social food chain, leaving no doubt to who was at the predator end of it. And then there was my crowd, slap bang in the middle of the chain - those who didn't fit into any group because we were too unique or uninteresting to join one of the other cliques. Kayla saw me arrive and waved me over to where she was seated.

"Ah! You're wearing a dress!" she exclaimed, shocked that I had abandoned my jeans. "And make-up! Aren't you going all out today?"

I grinned at her in shame, remembering what I had originally put on. "Well, it is our first day as seniors after all."

In true Kayla fashion she was dressed flawlessly in a white chiffon and cotton mini-dress which was undoubtedly designed and made with her own hands. If it's true that we all have secret talents then design was certainly hers. She was so in love with clothing and creating outfits that she carried a stash of sequins, a needle and some thread wherever she went, just in case there was a "fashion emergency" – more commonly known as Callie. Yes, I was Kayla's most lifelike mannequin, and my protests were never heard.

"I'm so proud of you! Now do a twirl for me."

Reluctantly I did a slow twirl so that she could assess my style.

"Do I pass?" I couldn't control the laughter which crept into my voice.

The whole situation was ludicrous.

Kayla nodded her head, beaming in pride in the belief that her fashion sense had finally rubbed off on me. Little did she know...

"Where's the gang?" I ask, looking around for the usual misfits that Kay and I hang with.

She shrugged, although the question didn't hold her attention for much longer than that – replaced by a juicy piece of high school gossip.

"Did you hear the news? Old Mr Crawley has retired! And apparently his replacement is young and super hot. I do hope I get him for English this year."

It didn't surprise me that old Mr Crawley had retired. According to my brother, he's been called "Old Mr Crawley" since before I was born. The man was more a relic to the school than the actual building was. What did surprise me was that his replacement was young! That was unheard of at Carmel High.

Although "young" by Carmel High standards could possibly mean that the poor, unknowing teacher was in his or her late thirties.

The bell rang signalling time to head to home room and slowly (and I mean, snail's pace slow) the stairs were evacuated. Kayla and I made a detour to our lockers to put our bags and extra books away before making our way to home room, taking our usual seats as the register was taken. As our class schedules were handed to us, Kayla handed me a note:

"Oh yeah! I got the new guy! Mr Peterson! Woop woop!"

I looked at my schedule in dread. Miss Matthews for Social Sciences, Mr Smith for AP Mathematics, Miss Carlson for Physical Education, Mrs Miller for AP Greek, Mr Porter for Science and Biology and Mr Peterson for AP English.

With a smile I scribbled on the back of her note 'me too!' before handing it back to her.

Miss Matthews, my home room teacher as well as my teacher for Social Sciences, rambled on about how this year would be the year we would "blossom into butterflies in order for us to spread our wings and go far in life". I'm almost certain that you must have failed your psych exam to become a teacher... at least at my school. She had pushed back her grey hair into the severe bun which perched on top of her head, undoubtedly giving her countless headaches, but year after year she remained the same bird-like woman whose head remained in the clouds.

Granted, she was a brilliant teacher.

The bell rang, signaling first period; English. I grabbed my blank notebook from my desk and, together with Kayla, made the trek along the corridors towards the English block.

Old Mr Crawley's classroom had been refurbished and redecorated with posters of poets and famous writers covering the walls. Kayla and I sat down in our usual places, remarking at the changes which had reformed the dusty haven of textbooks and broken projectors into the literary paradise it had become. It was a nice change from the torture chamber we had come to know and loath. Our conversation was interrupted by the golden god who walked through the door.

"Good morning class, I am Daniel Peterson, but you can call me Mr Peterson." he said with a wink.

A collective sigh escaped from between the lips of every single girl in the class as we all took in his flawless physique, golden locks and green eyes framed by the most gorgeously dark lashed I had ever seen. We all sighed, except for Kayla who paled a little instead. I didn't think this too strange, Kayla did things on her own accord and swooning at the sight of a gorgeous man wouldn't be too far-fetched when it came to her.

She once sprained her ankle just to get a date from a cute guy on the soccer team. Okay, I don't think she did it on purpose but she certainly fell on purpose.

She said it was all worth it though.

Mr Peterson asked everyone to introduce themselves and say one thing that was interesting about them and so for the next few minutes all we heard was "hi, my name is so-and-so and I love English". The same line drummed a beat into my skull and gave me a headache with its monotony. By the time it came to being my turn I decided I was going to be different. I was going to be awesome. I was going to be spontaneous!

"Hello, my name is Callista and I'm allergic to Shakespeare."

Kayla turned to me with an eyebrow raised in question but I didn't care. Mr Peterson laughed and winked at me before turning back to the class.

"I shall try to remember everyone's names, but if I get stuck and forget yours please forgive me. Now, to turn our attention to the semester project... and to the man Callista is allergic to. If you need to go to the nurse, Callista, please do let me know."

I felt my cheeks catch fire with embarrassment.

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, creeps in this petty pace from day-to-day, to the last syllable of recorded time; and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow." he quoted dramatically. "William Shakespeare wrote those words in his play entitled Macbeth. Your assignment is a long one, so be prepared. Each of you must find someone who truly knows the meaning of life in contrast to death. If you cannot find someone, then try to get an understanding about it from what is around you. Everything has a beginning and an end, a life and a death, so there are no excuses. Think about it, this assignment can be twisted to meet your own creative needs; however those who put the most effort into it will obviously receive the most marks. Are there any questions?"

Kayla and I lounged across her bed nibbling potato chips and watching Gossip Girl re-runs on her sixty-two inch television, something which she had never really appreciated to its full extent. Her room was the complete opposite of mine, almost sterile in its cleanliness without a single item out of place. Anyone who walked into her room would believe that she had OCD... until you walked into her bathroom that is. While her room was spotless, her bathroom was strewn with beauty treatments, make-up and various paraphernalia which seemed to grow in volume each moment you glanced at it.

The only child to a cardiologist mother and a neurologist father, Kayla rarely saw her parents. In fact, she had been raised almost entirely by her grandmother whom we both called Nana. Nana had moved in to help raise her granddaughter after her husband tragically died of cancer, something which she was still pretty sensitive about (who could blame her?). Niklos had always maintained that Nana had filled the empty void in her heart with Kayla, and perhaps he was right. In their own way, Nana and Kayla had managed to heal each other, for although she refused to admit it my best friend was emotionally starved by her parents.

Kayla sighed wistfully, resting her head on her hand. "If only Chuck were real, I swear I wouldn't let him run away from me like Blair did."

I rolled my eyes at her, biting another chip and revelling in the cracking sound it made. "Kay, if he ran away from you you'd probably chain him to your bed and feed him strawberries and cream until he was either sick or gave up"

She chuckled at that but denied it profusely, but she knew it was true. Kay was a clingy girlfriend at best, probably why she hadn't had a boyfriend in months. I wasn't about to tell her my theory though. She'd completely turn it around and ask why I haven't had a boyfriend in years.

My last boyfriend moved to Texas with his folks and long distance just doesn't work – so I found out when he cheated on me with his new Biology partner. Ever since, I hadn't been able to find a guy who'd even look at me in a romantic way. Not that I'm looking though.

My cellphone rang, the Macarena blaring loudly from my school bag on the floor. "Hi mama." I answered after reading the caller ID.

"Callie, your father and I have to attend an alumnae meeting at the university tonight and I'm not sure what time we'll be back. I left food from the restaurant in the fridge for you, but there should be more than enough to take over to Kayla's place if you decide to spend the night. Just message me with what's happening. Ok?"

Woah! Mother letting me have some form of independence? Well independence as long as it involved Kayla and Nana that is.

"Yes mama, I'll ask Nana if it would be an inconvenience first." I replied (mother had trained me well), watching as Kayla mouthed 'please stay'.

"Ok, that's fine. I love you."

"I love you too mama. Enjoy the meeting."

I rolled my eyes at Kayla, knowing that she was barely holding back the need to tease me.

"Hi mama, yes mama, I love you too mama." Kayla mocked, giggling.

I grabbed a pink, fluffy pillow and launched it at her, successfully managing to tip her off-balance and she fell off of the bed. Still laughing she chucked it back at me, crouching on the floor and using furniture as a shield. She missed terribly and I threw the pillow back at her with all my might, just managing to shit her leg.

"If this was war, you'd be legless." I informed her, narrowly dodging the pillow.

Callie 1, Kay 0.

A knock on the door interrupted the impending pillow fight, but we still clutched our weapons just in case a surprise attack came.

"Come in!" we called in unison, staring at the door.

Nana entered wiping her wrinkled hands on an apron tied around her petite waist. She grinned at the two of us and picked up the stray pillow, throwing it gingerly to me. "Callie, my dear, are you going to stay for dinner?" she asked.

She didn't even react to the pillow fight evidence. Personally, I think she really didn't care what we did as long as we were having fun and not getting up to mischief.

After asking her for permission to spend the night and informing her of the food my mother had left for us, Kayla and I decided to fetch everything we needed from my place. We climbed into her silver BMW convertible, a gift from her parents in compensation for them not being there on her sixteenth birthday, and drove the few blocks to the relic which was my home. My mother's roses were in full bloom so I picked one for Nana; a deep red one with a touch of pink in the tip of each petal. I stuck it in a glass of water and made a mental note to remember that it was there, placing the dishes of chicken salad and kotopita next to it on the kitchen counter. With that done, we headed upstairs to my room to fetch some clothes for school the next day, as well as the necessities like deodorant.

Kayla's eyes fell on my brother's letter and she picked it up, slowly running her fingertips over his scrawled writing as she read, laughing whenever she came to the funny parts. I think that she'd had a secret crush on Niklos since we reached puberty, not that I could blame her. My brother was extremely good-looking and alluring to the female kind. At six-foot-three he was guaranteed to be taller than every woman he came across but he wasn't the tall, stringy type, the guy had broad shoulders and muscles which he was proud of. In addition to his attractive body, were his flawless skin, perfectly groomed eyebrows and pale blue eyes framed by long, pitch black eyelashes which made most women green with envy.

"So, how is he enjoying Greece? Had he found a girl who can put up with him yet?" Kayla probed, setting the letter back down and heading to my wardrobe to pick out clothes for me.

I watched as she pulled faces at my clothing, obviously disappointed that her taste of style hadn't rubbed off on me as much as she had thought. "Nope, last time I spoke to him he had said that all he's been doing is playing soccer with the locals and attending classes. When I asked if he had found anyone to satisfy the parents with, he had laughed and said that the Greek girls seem to look straight passed him and don't even bother to look a second time."

Kayla giggled at that. "I suppose that Greece is covered with guys who look just like him so there's nothing special in that department there. The poor guy."

Kayla eventually sighed in frustration and yanked a pair of jeans out of my cupboard. "I swear I'm going to burn all of your jeans at some stage. How on earth have you managed to accumulate so many of the blasted things?"

I watched her fold the pair she'd taken out before she placed them into my overnight bag. I gathered the last few essentials before we picked up the food from the kitchen on our way back to her car.

That night as we sat on her bedroom floor completing the piles of mathematics homework we had been subjected to, the conversation turned to the new English teacher.

"Mr Peterson is drop-dead gorgeous! At least there will be a reason for us to go to English now." I commented, punching a few figures into my calculator.

"I suppose he's alright, I've seen better." Kayla sounded unlike herself.

"You don't like him, do you?" I probed, hoping to get some more information than what her body language was screaming.

"Well he's alright, I guess. I just get a strange feeling about him. What do you think of the assignment for this semester?"

I took the hint that she wanted to change the topic and went with it. Kayla wasn't the type of person you pushed for information. The harder you pushed, the quieter she got.

"I have no clue what to do for it. There's no one in my life who really knows about life and death for me to consult. I guess I'm just going to have to think some more about it."

Kayla bolted upright, light flashing in her eyes. "I have an idea! We can ask my dad if he can get us into the hospital as candy-stripers."

"As hospital volunteers? Do you think he could? I mean, it's a brilliant idea 'cause we can gain some community service hours while we're at it, but the hospital are apparently rather sticky about who they accept now days; ever since that time when a crazy volunteer almost stole a baby from the nursery."

"My dad will give us references and we'll be watched constantly, but at least we get to get our assignment done. And the hospital has been short of volunteers since that incident."

The plan killed two birds with one stone, figuratively speaking. Our school demanded that we have a minimum of twenty hours of community service before we graduated. It was their attempt to make sure that we gave back to the community, and it also increased the chances we had of getting into university. Unfortunately, I only had five hours.

"Well I'm on board if you can get your dad to agree."

A smirk spread across Kayla's face. "Oh he'll agree, I'll just play the guilt card and say that it's a way for me to spend some time with him and mom. It will also give me a chance to experience what working in a hospital may be like. My parents want me to follow in their footsteps and become a doctor."

She cringed at the thought. It was blatant to all who knew her where her path lay. Design was her life and she would follow her dreams with or without her parents' approval.

Sitting across from her, not saying a word sat Robert, the six-foot-two German dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of flip-flops; another project for Kayla although she would probably have more luck with him than she's had with me. His broody silence made him a wildcard which, for some strange reason, kept the vultures at bay. It's not as if he'd suddenly attack and break someone's neck or something.

Robert and Violet smiled at us as we sat down.

"So, we heard you had a fiery start." Violet teased, stealing the piece of chocolate cake which had been placed on my tray.

I showed her the bandage on my arm. "And I have battle scars to prove it."

Kayla and Violet ooh-ed and aah-ed as I told them the story, ending in how I had felt sorry for Ricky so had covered for him.

"Well that was nice of you." Robert's German heritage was evident in his speech.

"Could you imagine what a reception I would have got from the jocks and cheerleaders if I had let him get detention? Ouch! That would have been painful."

We all winced at the thought. I'd probably be strung up like a piñata and beaten to death, slowly and agonisingly.

"So what are the plans for the weekend?" Violet changed the topic. "I'm going to be helping with the planning of this year's haunted house so we're meeting tomorrow. It's going to be awesome! I was even thinking of suggesting a haunted hayride... but I doubt they'll go along with it."

I couldn't help but grin at Vi's enthusiasm when it came to planning the blood and gore which went along with Halloween.

"This Sunday is the remembrance day of those who died in the Holocaust from my home town - my family will be celebrating their legacy." in one rather depressing revelation, Robert made our plans seem trivial in comparison.

We sat for a moment in silence, not too sure what to say. Luckily Kayla broke the ice with a comment on how great it was that the Holocaust victims would be remembered in such a nice way. Kay always one to see the brighter side of life.

"My dad's organised for Callie and I to work at the hospital as volunteers so hopefully we can start this weekend." Kayla looked at me for confirmation.

I nodded briefly.

"Well, I'm working at the restaurant this afternoon, but tomorrow should be fine."

Conversation soon turned to a charity concert which was being held at the Town Hall at the end of the month to raise money for the hospital. None of us were invited – being underage – but that didn't stop us from fantasising about it. It was supposed to be this grand affair. Kay and I had often watched her mother get ready for the event when we were children, making us yearn for when we were old enough to dress up and tag along. That yearning hadn't dulled all these years later.

The rest of the school day flew by in a blur of insults and angry comments, but I never saw Ricky after I had left him with the nurse. I was rather glad. He's probably find a way to blame me for the incident, just to make himself look good in front of all of his worshipers.

My mother picked me up from school in the restaurant's delivery van (shoot me now) and was horrified to hear about the drama of the day.

"Where on earth was your teacher while this Ricky was attempting to blow you up?" she demanded, more angry with Mr Porter than she was with Ricky. "The supervision in the schools these days is just shocking."

I left her to rant about the education system as I plaited my hair for work; long hair was a pain when it came to dealing with food. We pulled up outside Aphrodite's Haven, the restaurant my parents had owned and run since before my birth, and I made my way to the kitchen. Mikael, my cousin and the head chef of the Haven since as long as I could remember, greeted me with a kiss on the cheek.

"I got a call from you brother this morning, Callie. He said to tell you that he misses you and will have to organize a skype chat soon." he grinned, obviously amused that Nik had called him before he had called me.

Mikael's wife shuffled into the kitchen and sat down on a vacant chair. Being eight months pregnant with their third child, Stella had an excuse to be constantly tired however, no matter how tired she was, she refused to not be at work. I stood behind her and massaged her shoulders, trying to talk her into going home since I had arrived.

"No, there isn't enough staff for tonight. One of the waitresses called in sick so you're going to have to take her place. I'll just sit here and chop veggies and whatever else comes my way." she winked at me and grabbed a knife as her husband placed a bowl of carrots in front of her.

I went to the locker room and changed into the black, knee-length dress which all the waitresses wore. The hem and straps were decorated with gold embroidery in patters symbolic of ancient Greece, something which my father insisted on to bring the feel of Greece into the restaurant. The restaurant itself was covered in murals of ancient Greece and Greek gods and some random plastic potted trees which stood in strategic positions.

By the time five o'clock came the restaurant was buzzing, filled with both the local regulars and the random tourist who made their way to Carmel to get away from the bustling cities of California. As always, there were the few diners who were ignorant enough to be fascinated by their discovery of a Greek restaurant with a Greek waitress who could speak Greek (I mean seriously? What are the odds?).

I was carrying my tray of drinks to a table when my eye caught a family who had just walked through the door and were being seated by my mother – none other than Ricky with his mother and his little sister. I was just glad that I didn't have to serve them tonight. My good deed for the day had given me nothing but trouble. I had been verbally and physically attacked the whole day and I didn't feel like facing the cause just yet. Instead I dropped the drinks off at the table which had ordered them and made a detour toward the kitchen.

"Callista?"

I turned around and came face to face with the guy I'd tried to avoid.

"Umm, hi." I replied, trying to sound casual while attempting to suppress an urge to whack the jerk over the head with my tray.

"Listen, I heard what you did for me today. You know, saying that what happened in Chemistry today was your fault and all that. I know you did it so I wouldn't get kicked off the team , Nurse said so, so I guess I owe you one." His voice sounded unsteady. "And I'm sorry I was such a prick this morning."

His eyes fell to the gauze bandage on my arm.

"Nurse didn't tell me you had been burned too."

The look of remorse on his face seemed genuine.

"Just a small burn, I can't even feel it." I lied.

"Ok, I'm glad." he said and began to turn around and head back to his family. "Oh, Callie?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that I watched as he walked back to join his family.