Chapters On A Page

I hated that sick feeling. Not just where your stomach is on a boat of its own and you think any moment will be the moment you finally vomit to relieve you of that terrible feeling. I hated the achey feeling that embodied every joint between your bones and the amount of sleep you suddenly wanted to be a part of and the way your skin gave off a heat like you were a walking furnace. Most of the time when I felt like this, I was simply overreacting, making myself believe that I was getting sick, and I could sleep it off. Waking up feeling like myself in the morning was always like a miracle, and I welcomed it each and every time. Sure, being sick got you out of school, but then you had to deal with actually being ill.

When I went to bed Wednesday night, my body feeling weaker with every passing minute and my eyelids heavier than they normally were on a day off from work, I thought it would pass as I slept. The first hint that it wasn't going to be that easy was when I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating though cold, late-September air was flowing though the open window by my bed. The fact that my mouth was also watering as if preparing me to give up the contents of my stomach should have clued me in, but maybe I just refused to believe it. Even when I got up in the morning, later than I usually did, I still attempted to head to the bathroom to get ready. As I leaned on the sink with both of my hands on either side of the cold counter while I stared into the mirror, I heard my mother call up to ask if I was okay. She wasn't at all used to leaving before I was downstairs. I yelled back something unintelligible, a jumble of letters and sounds, but it was enough for her to decide I was fine and she headed off to work.

It took me at least ten more minutes to step away from my resting spot and glance out to my room at the alarm clock. Even if I rushed to get ready, I would still be late because I had to walk to school. This realization was apparently what it took to set me over the edge. The toilet was only a few steps to my right, but I still bolted to it. I had just dropped to my knees when bile burning my throat convinced me that I probably had the flu. I couldn't even remember the last time I had thrown up due to something that didn't have to do with nerves and alcohol. I had forgotten how quickly it made you even weaker and how deliriously tired I always became. After shakily getting back to my feet and rinsing my mouth out, I shuffled as swiftly as I could downstairs to lock the front door and then thankfully back up to my bed and collapsed into it. Before sleep consumed me for what I knew was going to be a sizable nap, I remembered to call my mom and text Dominic to let them both know that I wouldn't be going to school. I passed out with my hand clutching my phone halfway to the nightstand.

I was beyond groggy when I woke up again. This time, I was freezing and was clenching the thick blanket draped over me between my fingers. I wanted to get up to close the window, reminding myself that it should have been closed weeks ago, but I could barely even lift my head from my pillow. After lying awake for several minutes, I noticed that the breeze wasn't hitting me the way it usually did and that I didn't feel as alone as I thought I had been. I finally pried my eyes open and fought against the sickness that was trying to get me to go back to sleep, turning my head slowly to look at the other side of my bed. I wasn't even startled when I saw someone sitting there against the headboard. I was willing to chalk that up to being sick though.

"What are you doing here?" I sleepily asked Alex, working out the aches that refused to disappear from my joints. Before he could answer, I glanced at the clock again just to confirm he had better places to be, like second period. I did my best to ignore my roiling stomach and how every move was near excruciating as I turned back over for his answer.

He was nonchalantly flipping through a magazine, something he had obviously grabbed from the shelf behind my head. "You called me. And texted me," he answered as if it was obvious, peering at me from the corner of his eye. Seeing the confused expression that instantly took over my surely pale face, he flipped the glossy pages shut to focus on me and the inquiry he knew was coming next.

"No," I croaked, confident that he was going positively insane. "I called my mom and left a message, and I texted Dominic," I corrected, struggling to sit up. It was probably a mistake to try in the first place, but it also made me realize that I had to pee. Having to pee while I was sick was always a constant thing, making me get up as much as possible just because my body obviously hated me and wanted to be in pain. I couldn't exactly just get up and walk to the bathroom with Alex sitting here. The only thing I was wearing over my bra and underwear was one of Dominic's old jerseys. Not only did I rather Alex not see me in hardly anything at all, but I was also still self-conscious for the same reason I had been the day we had gone to the swimming hole. So I tried to get comfortable without lying back down and anticipated his explanation.

He shook his head, very clearly trying to convince me that I was wrong and he was right. He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and, after a bit of rummaging, pulled out his cell phone. He directed it to the place he wanted and then held it out between the two of us before putting it on speaker. The tiny speakers omitted what could only be passed off as my voice, low and slightly distorted because of me being too sick to care. I could barely remember what I had said in the voicemail I thought I had left my mother, but what I was hearing now sounded close enough. When the message was done, he held up a finger to tell me to hold on a second. He got the screen to where he needed it to be once more and then showed me the text I had been positive I had sent to my boyfriend. Alex looked too smug for his own good.

I was now beyond confused and, frankly, a little bit flustered. I reached for my own phone on the table but came up empty. Then I remembered that I'd still been holding it when I fell asleep. I searched somewhat frantically through the blankets and sheets until I found the stupid, little, silver thing. I wanted to prove Alex wrong, but as I looked at my recent calls and my text outbox, I was brought to the conclusion that he was, indeed, the one who was right. "Well, damn it!" I screeched, automatically regretting it as I got nauseous. "How does that lead you here?" I questioned, sliding back down in the bed. I was already tired again.

He shrugged, turning away from me. I got the impression he was trying to hide something, but I didn't want to question it. "No one likes to be alone when they're sick. I figured I wasn't the one you were trying to get a hold of since you haven't talked to me in almost two months. But the people you maybe wanted to come obviously wouldn't be," he enlightened me once more, and he jerked the magazine still setting in his lap back open. "I volunteered myself to come keep you company. But I didn't exactly tell anyone…" He trailed off, staring into the distance as he wondered if it still counted as volunteering if no one else had been aware there was a choice.

"Well… thanks," I responded hesitantly, breaking him out of his reverie. "But you really should have gone to school. I'm not going to be very interesting today," I insisted, but I put no force behind it. It wasn't like he was going to go now after putting in the effort to skip, so I wasn't going to argue with him. I couldn't deny anyway that maybe having someone here wouldn't be terrible since that vomiting feeling was returning.

"I did go to school!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up as if suggesting that he hadn't gone was completely asinine. "I just got your messages before I got out of my car," he admitted with a smirk. I didn't think the pointed look I gave him would be very effective with me lying down and looking up at him, but he gave up the appalled act immediately. "Euch, who needs school everyday when you're not going to college?" he inquired, waving the concern away.

I shook my head, snorting lightly at his lack of interest in the responsibility of high school. It was almost like the last few weeks hadn't happened. We were comfortable together again in no time at all. I gave a sigh though, reminded once more that I had the flu. "Can you do me a favor and close your eyes for like two minutes?" I asked him as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, keeping the blanket covering my thighs. "Just do it," I demanded with mock exasperation when he only gave me an innocent look. He chuckled but closed his eyes, his long lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks while his dark eyes were hidden. I hopped up from the mattress and pulled my shirt down, causing me to have to pad awkwardly to the dresser as I attempted to cover myself down to the middle of my thighs. I snatched a pair of cotton shorts from an open drawer and then all but sprinted into the bathroom.

When I emerged again, he was sitting in the same spot with his eyes still squeezed shut and his hands added as an extra layer. I giggled, "What're you doing?" I slipped back under the covers beside him, not even daring to attempt to sit up this time.

He peeked between his fingers and looked down at me before lowering his hands with a chortle. "I wasn't done counting to a hundred and twenty. My two minutes weren't up," he claimed. I shoved him lightly and pointed out how I hadn't meant it literally before snuggling down into the warmth of my bed. He laughed again. "Go back to sleep. You look like you're going to throw up on me if you stay awake any longer," he joked, cracking a smile when he caught my own partially obscured by the blankets pulled up to my face. I did as he said though, letting my eyes fall shut and my sore body relax. He was quiet, the only sound between us the soft flipping of glossy magazine pages. Just as I was drifting off, he cleared his throat purposefully. My lids fluttered open and I had to fight to keep them open to focus my attention on him and not sleep. "I'm uh, sorry about what I said in the woods, by the way," he told me nervously, staring forward rather than at me.

I let my eyes shut again and settled my head deeper into my pillow. "It's all right, Alex," I replied, sure that I was already asleep again. In the in-between conscious state that I was in, I knew that I shouldn't be accepting his apology so easily. Even if I had forgiven him in my own mind for some of it, he had still said things I hadn't liked. There was more than just his words about Gwen that needed to be forgiven and then explained.

Maybe he read my mind. Or maybe he had been plagued with the thought himself since the moment he had said it all. "No, it's not," he countered firmly. "I feel terrible about calling Gwen stupid. I hung out with her so much this summer with you and I knew how she was. She's my friend now just as much as Jack is. I was just mad and nervous. So if you told her about that, please tell her I'm sorry," he begged, sounding desperate. I gave what I thought was a nod against the pillow and mumbled a promise that I would pass it along even though I had never told Gwen what Alex had said. "And what I said… before that. I um… There's no way to explain how I was feeling that day. I should have talked to you about things first, before I acted like a total asshole by reminding you that I had a girlfriend. I dealt with it all wrong." He continued on muttering about how he had been confused and moronic, but I was already on my way back to a dream-filled slumber.

My influenza had a heavy effect on those dreams and I could almost feel myself thrashing in my bed as I slept. I wanted to wake up, to get away from zombies and Emma, friends dying and the typical losing all information in my brain before a test, all while I felt perpetually carsick. It took too long to actually wake though, forcing my eyelids up and sitting bolt upright. I was drenched in sweat and my head was spinning from pushing myself up too fast. I had to adjust to the sunlight streaming through the windows, but it was only a minute before I could catch the dust dancing in the beams. I fell back again after a moment though my breathing was still fast and my eyes were wide with the fear that had consumed me during my nap.

That was when I remembered that Alex was there, sitting to my right and whiling away his time with anything he could find to read. I found myself rising once more and throwing my arms around his neck, holding him tightly. The shock of this only preoccupied him for a brief moment, but then his own arms slid around my torso. He hugged me more gently than I did him; I had reason for being somewhat psychotic with my grip. "I had a dream that you guys got big and famous. And you completely forgot my name and left me to become rockstars," I cried, discovering that my throat was tight with tears I didn't want to shed. I hoped it only sounded like something caused by my illness. I didn't want him to know how badly I never wanted this scenario to happen. Not until I could comprehend it myself.

As soon as the words passed my lips, he began to soothingly rub my back. "Val, it's safe to say that I won't be able to forget you no matter how big the band does or doesn't get. I'll always come back home and you'll be one of the first friends I'll demand come over for a drink," he promised, smirking at me when I pulled away slightly. He didn't appear smug or even sarcastic. He was being sincere. I took a deep breath and nodded my grateful understanding as I dropped my arms back to my sides. I knew I had been suddenly irrational there, yet he showed no sign of laughing or thinking of bringing me to the hospital to check for delusions caused by my fever. "I think someone's here," he told me then, looking over his shoulder at the window.

"My mom," I confirmed, knowing there wasn't anyone else it could be. I had slept a lot longer than I had intended or thought I possibly could. It was already four o'clock. Lilah had joined the yearbook staff which met every Thursday after school, so it couldn't be her, and Kaylee was usually dropped off at the salon, so she was most likely with Trix. Thinking of this made something hit me. "Shit. You have to hide," I whispered harshly, shoving him toward the edge of the bed. It didn't take much to realize that he was utterly confused. "She's going to think I'm lying about being sick and she'll probably think something is going on if she sees you here. Just hide in the bathroom. Please?" I begged. The last things I wanted to deal with were accusations and questions from my mother.

He seemed to see this in my eyes. He nodded in reply to my plea and then scrambled from the bed, hurrying to the bathroom. He had just squeezed himself behind the door when a soft knock came from outside my bedroom door.

My mom came in without waiting for an answer from me, her expression already set in a stern look that said I better not lie to her. One look at me though and she softened. Clearly, I was going to have to take a look in the mirror as soon as she went downstairs. "Val, are you okay?" she asked, rushing across the room to get to me. She seated herself on the edge of the bed and reached out to press the back of her hand to my forehead.

"Five-by-five," I answered with a sarcastic smile. I was being a smart ass, but I knew she would let it slide this time around. "Just dealing with a little virus. You know how it is. Even though it's making me feel terrible now, I think we may try to work it out and become inseparable friends," I continued, watching her amused smile grow with each word. So what if I was faking the being strong thing for her benefit? She always liked to see me be a trooper when I should be whining like a child.

She automatically entered mother mode, her hands fluttering over me to see what she could do. I had to assure her that I had been fine all day and that I only wanted to lie there for the rest of the night. I only refused her help though because she was trying to insist to at least get me a wet washcloth for my forehead, which would lead to her finding Alex. When she offered to make me some soup, I remembered that I hadn't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours and I eagerly accepted. Alex silently slipped back out to rejoin me when she had closed the door behind her on the way to make me the food she had promised.

I breathed a sigh of relief, letting myself relax against the shelves that made up the headboard. As he threw himself down next to me, I took a moment to think about something. "How did you get in my house anyway?" I inquired, my forehead wrinkling between my eyes. I knew there was no way he had come through the front door and I doubted that he could have gotten in any other way.

"I shimmied up the drainpipe to the flat part of the roof and then climbed in onto the window seat," he informed me, completely serious as he examined his fingernails. When he switched his gaze to me though, he laughed. "Or I would have if I were more ninja-like or if there was actually a drainpipe that led me to that window. Really, I checked the side door into the garage and was lucky enough to find it and the one into the kitchen from there unlocked," he amended, honestly this time. I scolded myself for not checking all the doors before I had entered my coma, but I still applauded both his fabricated story and the truth of how he'd gotten inside.

The next few hours were like the summer all over again. We talked and we joked around and we had fun despite me having to throw up what seemed like every two hours. He hid again when my mom brought my soup and then held my hair when my stomach didn't agree with it. I hadn't even conceived how badly I had missed him and how much better I felt when he was around until I had him back at my side as he had been for three months. I would never admit it to Nic, Gwen, and Murph, but I knew that Alex was another of my best friends, a simple thought after all this time.

Sitting around my room all afternoon and evening had made the both of us lazily tired. It was late when I slipped down under the covers. I had hardly put any thought into whether or not Alex would stay. Him leaving meant he would have to sneak out of the house and then drive home when he could barely keep his eyes open. Seeing the saccade of his eyes as he looked back and forth from his shoes by the desk and the bed, I knew the solution was a no brainer. "There're blankets on the closet floor," I told him, and I threw a pillow onto the floor in front of the window seat.

"Or, you know, there's still plenty of space on the bed," he pointed out, trying to get out of having to sleep on the hardwood.

"Floor," I stated boldly. He melodramatically dragged himself to the closet to pull the blankets out and huffed when he began lying them out. I was still giggling at him as I turned out the light on a day that had taken a welcome turn. Because of this fact, I couldn't say I was angry when I woke in the middle of the night and felt him next to me on the mattress, sleeping easily.