“No.”She shakes her head, and the defiance comes back to her eyes.I repress a grin.“No, that’s sorted now.”
But apparently, I never learn.
Olive
I left the midnight party early, shortly after Colin went.I’m still surprised he was even there.After our chat, we avoided each other as far as possible, which wasn’t hard because he hung out with Kit, Will, and some other lower-sixth lads, while I was with my friends.Even so, I spent the whole time thinking about our conversation.
Now I’m lying in bed, and for a change, I’m not panicking about going to sleep.Instead, my head is whirling with thoughts that won’t let me rest.I can’t stop thinking about Colin and the insulin pump that’s permanently attached to his body.I spent long enough in hospital to imagine what that must feel like.But for Colin, it’s not just a few weeks.It’s forever.
I’ve had diabetes since I was eleven.
Eleven.That’s so young.How do you teach an eleven-year-old kid to inject themselves with insulin every day and to checkwhat they’re eating?Or wasn’t it so bad then?How did he get diagnosed?Why didn’t I ask?
Because I was overwhelmed.Because I only had eyes for the two-digit number on Colin’s phone when he was trying to show me how he checks his blood sugar.
I automatically reach for my own phone.The room is dark, and the screen is bright.I pinch my eyes together as I start googling.
Low-blood-sugar symptoms.
I click the link to the most serious-looking website and start reading.About the shivers and sweats, pallor, dizziness, and nausea that indicate hypoglycemia.
Colin’s shaking fingers as he unwrapped the sweet.
Aggression.Aha.Perhaps he’s permanently hypo.That would explain a few things.
I shiver as I keep reading: Anxiety, fidgetiness, difficulty concentrating, hallucinations.Heart palpitations, weak knees, headaches, confusion through to loss of consciousness, cramps.Stopping breathing.Potentially fatal if nothing is done.
How could he not tell anyone?OK, apparently, he did.Apparently everyone knew but me.But how could he not tellme?I had no idea, and now I feel a total idiot for going on at him about eating in class.That was out of order.And now I understand why no teacher ever told him off.They all know.
So does Dad.Colin had that appointment with him on Wednesday.Why didn’thetell me?We’ve only seen each other a few times since then, but it’s an important piece of information.Didn’t Colin want me to find out?I saw how uncomfortable he was when we were standing outside the old greenhouse.Obviously, he was trying to sound distant and pissed off, but that couldn’t hide how serious this is.
I put my phone down and stare at the half-drawn curtains that are letting a little moonlight into my room.
I don’t know why this new detail has changed my view of Colin.Previously, the thought of him just made me angry, but now there’s something else too.
Worry.I’m worried about him.About Fantino.
Damn it.That’s got to stop.
I couldn’t give a fuck.I really couldn’t give a flying fuck.
I roll onto my left side and stare into the darkness.
I could.There’s no point in denying it.Colin Fantino has burst into my life, seriously wound me up, and done something to me.
And now I’m thinking about him.At night.
Oh, shite.
13
Colin
Olive Garden treats me differently now.More aware, somehow.Which is exactly what I didn’t want, so I try to be extra cold and aloof around her.Seems to be working, because we don’t bump into each other much for the next few days.I hate to admit it, but my schedule at this school is so full that I drop into bed exhausted in the evenings and sleep like a log all night.Last week, I got to know another highlight of boarding-school life: the morning run, which takes place before breakfast, Tuesday through Friday.Because I get special treatment, I’m allowed into the dining room for something to eat before the run, but I don’t take up the offer.Even though I often have a hypo overnight, by the time I wake up, I’m generally hyper.That’s just as confusing as it sounds and has to do with hormones, like cortisone, which your body releases more of at night and which raise your blood-sugar levels.Hey, don’t want things getting too simple.
Obviously, this morning-run thing came as a bit of a shock at first, especially because my charming roommate wakes up cheerful and bursting with energy.But to my surprise, I’ve discoveredthat it does me good to start the day by running my ass off, breathing fresh air, and forgetting everything for a few minutes.And there’s something else I’ve noticed.Olive Garden doesn’t run with us.It would be easy to blend into the crowd, as the entire school is forced to do one lap of the perimeter wall every morning, but in the last few days, I’ve seen her buddies in the upper sixth running together often enough.And she’s never there.
This morning, I met her on my way back to my room, and she wasn’t wearing athletic gear, so now I’m certain she’s getting special treatment too.Which must have to do with her accident.I want to know what happened, why Olive Garden doesn’t do the morning run or gym class.I don’t reckon she’s sitting out just because she has her period.
