Twenty minutes in and my eyelids become heavier and heavier. I lay my arms on my desk and rest my head on top of them.
The moment I doze off, I’m hit with an aroma of food, and it’s making my stomach turn. This classroom always smells like food since the lunchroom is right above it. I’ve never really cared about it before, and I’ve noticed it but not to this extent. I crinkle my nose as I lift my head up. Queasy waves are churning in the pit of my stomach. What the hell are they cooking today?
“Do you smell that?” I ask Paige.
She sniffs. “It’s food.”
I pinch my nose and narrow my eyes. How can she not smell how bad it is? “Whatever they are making smells disgusting. How is the smell not grossing you out?”
She shrugs her shoulders.
As I glance around the classroom, no one else seems fazed by the smell. Some students have fallen asleep while others are deep into the movie. The clock on the wall shows the class is only halfway through. My jaw tenses with every breath I take, trying to keep the nausea down. I think back to yesterday when I ate ice cream in the cold with Kai and how hot I was. Maybe I’m coming down with something. The aroma of the food intensifies. I bring my hand up to my mouth and nose and try to breathe through my hand.
“Are you okay?” Paige frowns.
“No.” I jump up from my chair, run out of the classroom, and head straight to the bathroom. The second I reach a stall, I drop to my knees and hurl all my breakfast out.
I feel a sense of relief, but also that smell keeps lingering. I sniff my coat, making sure it’s not me. All I smell on myself is my Viva La Juicy perfume. Even that is making me gag. I pull my knees up and lean back against the stall, waiting to see if the nausea goes away.
“B!” Paige’s voice echoes through the empty bathroom.
“In here,” I say, scooting forward and allowing the unlocked door to fall open.
Paige’s eyes are wide and mouth agape as she looks down at me. “You don’t look so good.”
“I feel like shit. I think I’m coming down with something.”
“The teacher told me to come check on you. I think we should call your mom to pick you up.”
The thought of hernotpicking me up crosses my mind, lingering like a heavy cloud of uncertainty. It gnaws at me, making me doubt whether she even cares about me being sick enough to want to pick me up. After everything that has happened, I can’t shake the feeling that she may not be willing to take time off of work for me.
An hour later and my mom is finally pulling up to the school. It felt like an eternity as I sat and willed myself not to throw up. When I reached her on the phone, I could tell she was hesitant about me being sick. Despite me repeating myself that I had already thrown up, she still didn’t fully believe me, but she finally agreed to pick me up.
“Why are you sick?” my mom questions.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you hung over?”
I roll the window down an inch to get some fresh air.Breathing in the crisp air helps a little with the nausea. “No!” I exclaim.
“Then why are you sick?”
“I don’t know, Mom. Why does anyone get sick? Just because I threw up doesn’t mean I’m hung over.” I pause. “And where would I have gotten the alcohol, anyway? You lock yours up.”
The silence that follows is loud—louder than the slush that the tires are kicking up.
“You could have snuck out.”
“Mom! Stop. I know I don’t deserve your trust, but I did not sneak out. I did not drink. You should know people get sick. This is what this is. I’m just sick.”
“Do you understand why I’m questioning you?”
I groan, ignoring her question as I recline the seat.
I know what I did, and I know I’ve hurt and disappointed her. My own actions are the reason she’s question everything. It never crossed my mind that she would doubt me being sick. Paige saw and sensed that I didn’t feel good. Can’t she?
It’s Sunday morning, which means it’s been five days since I’ve seen and spoken to Kai. My heart is heavy as I wonder what he’s been doing. Has he been partying? Who's he been partying with? Have girls tried to get with him?Even though I trust him, I can’t help but wonder about other girls.
