When she’d arrived, she found Theresa in front of the scheduling board, her shoulders slumped. “They just gave me extra shifts through next week,” the nursing student from Angel’s cohort said. “I’m going to miss my mom’s birthday party. And I need to study!” The last came out in a wail.

“That sucks…”

“It’s not just me,” the pink-faced girl sniffed. “You’ve got more shifts, too.”

Peering at the board, Angel found her name. There she was, scheduled for extra rounds, and Dr. Collins had pushed back the exit interview to next week.

She gave up on the charts and threw the automatic pencil across the desk. Am I ever going to be in control? Some women wanted a rich man to swoop in and carry them away to a royal palace where they would be dressed and bathed by servants, fanned with ostrich feathers, and fed grapes by heavily muscled men, never to be responsible for anything ever again. Not Angel. She didn’t trust anyone else to fix her problems or make decisions that impacted her, and especially not any that affected Jose. But it sure would be nice if asshats would get out of my way, let me get stuff done.

Though, what would it be like to have someone take care of me, just once?… No. She couldn’t let herself waver. I need to put my head back down and keep working. I’m the one responsible for reaching the light in the tunnel, she reminded herself.

By the end of her shift, she was beat. She had shadowed the RNs, drawing blood and giving shots to screaming children and apathetic old people with no veins. Then Dr. Collins had her assist as he picked dozens of large, creosote-soaked splinters from the inner arms of a utility worker. The burly guy’s support strap had loosened and he’d slid down a twenty-foot telephone pole in less than two seconds. Sitting on the table, the big man allowed a few tears to slip out as the bigger pieces were tugged free, but he never uttered a sound, other than grinding his teeth. Angel admired his stoicism.

After clocking out, Angel walked toward the exit, exhausted and trying to smooth coils of dark hair back into her ponytail.

Dr. Collins came up behind her as she reached the doors. “You did great in there, darlin’.” He gave her an awkward, one-armed hug, the gel in his hair glistening. “You’re a natural, Angel. Stick with me, you’re going places.”

I don’t want to stick with you, freak. Fill out my goddamn review! “Thank you, Dr. Collins. I’ve learned a lot from you.”

“And how is your son?”

“He’s doing better today. I couldn’t buy a backup inhaler, though. My insurance has decided asthma is a preexisting condition. They don’t have to cover his medicines.”

“Why didn’t you say so? Come here.”