Edie Sussman, BFR Staff
The small bell above the door rang sharply as Dr. Magellan and an accompanying frozen breeze swept into the waiting room.
“Sorry I’m late, traffic was hell this morning.”
Her receptionist nodded knowingly. “Have they still not put out that fire out over on the 101?”
“Nope. The pyromancy department has its hands full dealing with it.” She hung up her jacket and scarf and took down a white coat. “Any messages?”
“Nancy Roswell. She wants to talk to you about seeing a specialist for her skin.”
“Who’s my first appointment?”
“Tommy Winters, routine checkup. Trish is in room 7 with him now.”
Dr. Magellan gave a thumbs-up and a thank you, poured herself a cup of coffee, and stepped into her office to pick up her patient’s file.
She sat at her desk, flipping through the reports from his last checkups. Nine years old, third grade, in general good health. He’d first come to her about five years ago, when the cats had started following him home from preschool. She’d diagnosed him with tendencies towards witchcraft and recommended adopting a familiar from a service animal agency.
“Dr. Magellan?” A nurse poked her head into the office, clipboard in hand. “Tommy’s all set to see you.”
“Thanks, Trish.” As she left the room, Dr. Magellan took Trish’s clipboard and started reading through the report.
When she reached room 7, a small sphinx cat was standing in front of the door, blocking her way. It gazed up at her piercingly, and she took a step back despite herself. Familiars were known to acquire magical powers of their own, and she still wasn’t sure what this one was capable of.
“Tommy?” she called out. “It’s Dr. Magellan. Can you tell Svetka to let me in?”
A faint voice responded from inside. “You’re not going to give me a shot, are you?”
Oh no. This again.
“Tommy, you’re due for a flu shot. If you don’t get it, you might get sick. You don’t want to get sick, do you?”
“I’d rather get sick than get a shot!” Tommy shouted back as Svetka hissed.
“Do you remember the last time you got sick, Tommy? You couldn’t play with your friends for a whole week. That was no fun, right?”
No sound came from inside the room.
“It’ll only be a second,” Dr. Magellan continued. “And you can hold Svetka if it helps you. You’ll barely feel a thing.”
Still, Tommy was silent.
Dr. Magellan sighed in frustration. “If you don’t get a shot, I can’t give you candy?”
Tommy didn’t respond immediately, but Svetka stepped to the side of the doorway and began licking a paw, which Dr. Magellan knew meant she was free to come into the room. She knelt to meet the cat’s eyes and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ve got a treat for you too.”
Fifteen minutes later, Tommy was sucking happily on a lollipop as his father drove him away, and Dr. Magellan was in room 10 finishing her yearly check-up with the Nguyen family.
“So Pamela, how are you enjoying middle school?” she asked as she finished filling in the state immunization records.
Pamela sulked in her wheelchair and refused to answer.
“Are you still on the swim team?”
This time her mother answered for her. “They wouldn’t let her compete anymore because of her… advantage.”
Dr. Magellan shook her head in disbelief. “You should take that up with the school board. They can’t discriminate against merpeople like that. In the meantime, are you still swimming for fun?”
Pamela mumbled inaudibly.
“What was that?” Dr. Magellan asked.
“I said I want to do ballet.”
“Honey,” her mother interrupted, “we already talked about this. The ballet studio just isn’t ready for someone with your condition.”
Dr. Magellan frowned. “I don’t know about that, Amy. You know there’s a wheelchair ballet studio just a few blocks down from here? I could give you their contact info?”
“Yes! Oh please oh please oh please Mom, can I?” Pamela shouted, her face lighting up and her gills flapping excitedly.
“You mean instead of swimming? But is that healthy?”
“As long as she’s still taking a bath once a day and drinking plenty of saltwater, I don’t see why not,” Dr. Magellan reassured them.
Pamela looked up at her with gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Dr. Magellan.”
It was around 2:00 in the afternoon when a nurse rushed into Dr. Magellan’s office, wide eyed and out of breath.
“You need to come into the waiting room. Right now.”
Dr. Magellan shot out of her chair and raced to the waiting room, wondering what could possibly have been so urgent. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.
“Frankie? Honey, what are you doing here?”
Her daughter looked up at her from where she lay on the floor, curled up tightly into a ball. There were tears in her eyes.
“I… I don’t know, I was just in gym class and then suddenly it was so loud and bright and now I’m here and I don’t know why!” She began to cry again.
Dr. Magellan knelt to her daughter’s side and held her in her arms. “No, sweetie, you’re going to be ok. I’ve got you.”
“Is—is something… wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you, sweetie,” she said softly. “Teleportation abilities run in our family, you know that. Remember Aunt Susan? How she would always appear at your birthday parties with all those balloons?”
“I can…teleport?” Frankie choked out between sobs.
“That’s what it looks like,” Dr. Magellan said. She could see her daughter thinking over this new information, realization of a world of new possibilities dawning on her. She smiled. It would take some work for her daughter to be able to control her new powers, but that moment of realization—the sudden understanding that a child had been given a blessing and not a curse—that was why she was a pediatrician.