Page 1 of The Royal's Bumblebee
Chapter 1
Bumblebee
Billie.
I groaned and felt heavily medicated. Groggy and slow. I’m not used to having a lag between my thoughts and my body. I didn’t drink last night, and I’m not on any medication, so why am I so-
My stomach lurched and I rolled onto my side to vomit. I’m cold and I’m scared. The room smells of chemicals and this isn’t my bed. Where is my bed? Why am I sick? Why isn’t my alarm going off? Why does it smell like a hospital in here? I whimper from the shock of it all and feel my vision start to narrow as I panic.
“It’s okay Bumblebee.” I catch my breath. That’s Hannah. She’s using her pet name for me. Only Hannah calls me Bumblebee. Her hand rubs my back and she tells me over and over that I’m okay. She always does whenever I’m sick or triggered. She tells me I’m okay until I believe it and stop shaking. I close my eyes against the bright lights and cringe at the pinging of machines around me. I don’t realise I’m tapping my thumb and middle finger on my right hand in clusters of three taps, until I feel the strain of the repetition on my wrist and down my forearm. “You’re okay Billie.” She strokes my back and is always so gentle with me. Everyone else gets the harsh edge of my sister, but never me. She’s never harsh with me. I love her for that. “Turn down the lights. They’re too bright.” She barks at someone, but I don’t know or care who.
“They don’t turn down.”
“Then turn them off.” She counters. My Hannah is so brave. I wouldn’t dare give out orders like that. With a click the lights turn off and I sigh. She’s right. It was too much. Now I just have the cold, the smell, and the sounds to deal with. It’s still too much, but Hannah is helping me. Focusing on tapping my thumb to my middle finger is helping me. “Bumblebee, you take as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere. We don’t need to rush.” God, I love her. Even when our parents were alive, Hannah was my rock. She could have been the kind of sister who didn’t want to be dragged down by her younger sister. It wasn’t her fault I had Aspergers and sometimes found it hard to even be outside the house. It wasn’t her fault that her friends didn’t like to be around me because I might say something they didn’t like. Something ‘insensitive’, they’d say. I didn’t have friends, as that requires the ability to connect, and so far, the only person who was able to understand me was my sister. Hannah never once chose her friends over me. So many times she chose me over them. When the world is too much for me, too stimulating, I try to get away. If I can’t, I shut down and go into myself instead. People don’t tend to notice. They expect me to scream and ball, rock back and forth and hurl furniture, but that’s not how I react. I’ve met other people with Aspergers and some of them react that way. We’re not a one size fits all kind of person. Autism is called a spectrum for a reason, and Aspergers has a spectrum within that too. Many times people simply ignore me when too much stimulus triggers me. I’m quiet, so they leave me to it. Or they try and take hold of me and shake me out of it, which terrifies me.
Not Hannah.
My sister is gentle, she’s patient, and she has learned my cues. She knows when it’s okay to touch me, and when it isn’t. She is my rock. I’m her bumblebee.
Slowly I feel calm enough to deal with the smell of my vomit and the chemicals in the room, but I want to wash myself clean of both. I sit up in the dark and turn to look through the dark of the room at my smiling sister. Her eyes are dark brown, almost black, unlike my light brown eyes. It’s why she calls me bumblebee, because my eyes are the shade of honey, she says. That’s ridiculous as honey comes in different colours and shades, depending on the species of bee and the species of plant the nectar was made from. Hannah only laughs when I tell her this.
“…Hannah.”
“Billie.” She smiles brightly at me and offers me my glasses. I recognise them and feel so much better once I have them on. They are round with thin black frames. I like how light they feel on the bridge of my nose. I made sure to buy ten pairs before we left Earth so I would have plenty in the event of an accident.
That’s right. We’re not on Earth. I did it. I managed to do something incredible and leave not just the house, but the planet. I smile only with my eyes, but Hannah sees it even before I make my lips curve afterward. I turn on the medical bed and lower my legs over the side. I notice there is a man in the doorway to the private medical room and he seems to be standing guard. He is out of reach, and he’s being quiet. He looks at me and smiles, but still doesn’t speak. I look to Hannah and see she gives the man a thumbs-up as encouragement. She knows this blonde man. She’s told him what to do so he doesn’t startle me.
“I am Billie Blac.” I address the man, who smiles wider and has bright blue eyes. “Who are you?”
“I am Charlie O’Hara.” He has a warm voice that seems to curve with his smile.
“Why are you here?” I ask and Hannah chuckles beside me on the bed.
“I have become fast friends with Hannah here and I’ve accompanied her to come and make sure you are okay.”
“Allico Inc hired you to be my sister’s friend and check on me?” I furrow my brows and look at my sister for clarification. That doesn’t sound necessary or sensible.
“She doesn’t mean why are you hereright now,but why are you here. Why are you part of Operation colonisation?” Hannah translated for me. She’s good at that. I adjust my glasses on my nose and feel at my short bob of brown hair. I fuss with my fringe. I like to have it match Hannah’s. I used to have my hair long like hers too, but it became impractical with all the time I spent crawling around computer towers. Server rooms are hot too, so it is cooler to have shorter hair. I still remember holding Hannah’s hand when I first had it cut. I remember the hairdresser asking if I didn’t want to have my hair cut, if I was this scared.
That’s wrong. I am scared of change, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. I wanted my hair cut. I was scared of the transition or it not coming out right and being stuck with it not looking how I wanted it. I fixate on things like that.
Right now I fixated on my fringe with my thumbs and fingers to check the length. I trimmed my fringe when it naturally touched my eyebrows. I smiled. I didn’t need to trim it yet.
“I better reintroduce myself then. I’m Dr. Charlie O’Hara. I’m an immunologist. That means-”
“I know what it means.” I look around the medical room and see a sink. I want to wash myself. I can still smell vomit on my chin. I reach out for Hannah’s hand and she walks me over to the sink. I would have done so on my own, but I felt weak from being in cryosleep for so long.
“Do you? That’s impressive. Most people don’t.” I cup water to my face and wash myself as much as I can. I cup more into my mouth and gargle it into the sink.
“I assumed it was something to do with the immune system.” Hannah offers, but she isn’t quite right, so I correct her.
“An Immunologist is a doctor who is specialised to diagnose, treat and where possible work to prevent diseases caused by microorganisms and immune system disorders, including if they are autoimmune diseases.” I nod, content with my answer, and Hannah is smiling at me. “I want a shower.”
“The doctors need to check you’re fit enough to discharge and then you can shower.” I didn’t like her answer, but I accepted it.
“I vomited on the floor.”
“I know. So did I. I got the doctor’s shoes too.” She laughed. So did Charlie. I didn’t, but I knew it was funny. “Are you ready for me to let the doctor in? Or do you need some more time?”
