"That's probably a good idea..."
Willamina pulls her phone out of her pocket and begins dialing her mom's number, before deciding to send a text instead so nobody can listen in.
"I just got hit with a beam of light from that meteor and I feel kinda woozy from it, and I think that I'm hallucinating. I'm in the hospital now getting it looked at."
The reply comes a moment later.
"A hospital? Willa, are you really so sick that you need to go to a hospital? Your father and I don't want to pay for overseas medical costs unless we absolutely have to."
Good old mom. Willing to spend thousands on hotels, plane tickets, and even foreign language classes to ship me off, but reluctant to spend so much as a dime for my health and wellness.
"Mom, I'm hallucinating cuttlefish-monsters right now, and some guys in suits are saying that they need to analyze me to make sure that I'm not a threat. If I don't do something about it I think that I'm going to go insane."
"Willa, you aren't doing drugs over there, are you? You remember how long your brother was grounded for when your father found those pills under his pillow."
Yes, I remember. And I remember that he said he wouldn't have had to take them had you not made his life hell.
"No Mom, I'm not taking drugs. Like I said, I just got hit with something from a meteorite."
"Riiiight. You're still getting a drug test when you get home. And your father says that if anyone tries to analyze you, you should stab them with your hairpin and run. He says to aim for the stomach, and if that doesn't drop them, then go for the throat."
Seeing as how the conversation is going absolutely nowhere, Willamina doesn't respond any further, and puts her phone back in her pocket.