“I know,” she snarls at me. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
I hold a hand over my heart. “I would never.” Quietly, I return to our room. “Okay, sweet girl,” I say, and Clover’s frown deepens.
I smooth her hair back. I shouldn’t touch her so freely, but it feels wrong not to comfort her in some way. It just so happens that it comforts me in return.
The summer she was nine and I was ten, our moms sent us off to camp for a week. I use the wordcamploosely because this place catered to the wealthy. The dorms were more like luxury log cabins and the activities ranged from equestrian sports to sailing to fencing. Clover was incredibly homesick and hated being separated from me in the girls’ dorm. One afternoon, she was stung by a swarm of bees. She wasn’t allergic, but it was painful. She had one sting on her lip and a few on her arms and legs.
I snuck into the girls’ dorm during afternoon activities with popsicles and a fewGoosebumpsbooks I’d found at the lending library next to the cafeteria. We ate the popsicles, melted syrup running down our wrists, while I read herNight of the Living Dummy. She fell asleep somewhere around the third chapter and turned on her side toward me with her arm draped over my lap. I stayed there all afternoon tracing patterns up and down her skin, careful to not disturb the angry welts.
That wasn’t the first time or the last time that I sat with Clover while she wasn’t feeling well or was upset. So, this current situation is nothing new. Touching her like this feels so normal. Nothing like the frenzied show we put on in public, but also more deliberate than when I wake up with my arm wrapped around her.
“Clo,” I whisper. “I need to get your temperature.”
She moans in response but lifts her head to me. It’s like the moment someone gave her permission to give in to her body and let herself be sick, her will crumbled.
With my thumb, I pull down on her lower lip and slide the thermometer inside. “Lift your tongue for me.” She does so and I wait for the beep.
The digital numbers light up and read 102 degrees.
“I’m fine,” she says, and pulls the blanket over her mouth so I can’t check her again.
“Clo, I think you should let me take you to an urgent care clinic. That’s pretty high.”
She shakes her head and then flings the blankets off. “It’s so hot.”
Then, before I can stop her, she’s unbuttoned her pants and is shimmying them down her hips.
I’m ashamed to say I take an inventory of the little black boy shorts she’s wearing underneath and the way her adorable tummy curves at the waistline.
She kicks her feet, knotting the pants around her ankles, and huffs. “Off,” she moans.
“Okay, okay,” I tell her, and help untwist the pants before draping them over her desk chair. I dig around in my desk for any kind of medicine and come up with a small travel bottle of Tylenol. After giving her two and encouraging her to drink as much water as she can handle, I say, “I’m going to check your temperature again in thirty minutes and if it’s still this high, we’re going to urgent care.”
“I can go to the student health center tomorrow,” she mumbles. “But no urgent care. It’s too expensive.”
Fuck. I hadn’t even thought of that. Or honestly even realized that they were expensive, but it doesn’t matter. “Don’t worry about how much it costs.”
“No. No way.”
I don’t fight her, because it’s not like she could stop me.
“Get some rest,” I tell her as I set a timer for thirty minutes.
I scroll through a few texts from the guys after I didn’t return to our table.
JULIAN
Uh, were you abducted?
Sweetie. Your father and I just want to know you’re safe.
TEX
seriously tho where did you go? This chick is asking for you.
JULIAN
This definitely has to do with Clover.
