Freaks and Fortune

Savannah eventually forgave Cal. By Wednesday, everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as it gets with a bunch of Freaks.

I had allowed Cal's claims of me having feelings for him to slip my mind. Aqua's comment about Cal needing to get over Savannah had been washed away as well. Everything seemed right.

I woke up late. The sun was high and I stretched, enjoying the peacefulness of the afternoon. Until I noticed that Cal was sitting, cross-leged, on the foot of my bed, that is.

"Holy shit!" I gasped clutching my heart. "You scared me!"

Cal smiled widely and leaned forward, hovering over my body.

"Feel," he said, placing his hand on my cheek.
"What the!" I gasped.

His hand was icy cold. He moved with a stiffness that suggested he'd just been thawed a few minutes ago and the frost hadn't melted out of his veins yet. I looked closely at his face. His lips were pale and his face looked ashen and drawn.

"What's wrong?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbows and shaking Cal's hand off of me. "You look terrible!"
"I know!" he yelled, laughing. "Isn't it great?"

I pushed him away and sat all the way up.

"Cal, this is not good," I told him. "What did you do to yourself? Are you high?"
His face fell. "Why does everyone automatically assume I'm high when I'm being serious?"
"I wonder...?" I muttered sarcastically, rolling my eyes.
"This is a good thing, Ivy!" he yelled, slightly annoyed. "I've never been able to do this before! I'm getting so much better at-"
"You did this to yourself?" I exclaimed.

Cal sat back on his haunches, grinding the toes of his dirty boots into my bedspread. He looked disappointed that I wasn't more excited.

"Yes," he pouted.
I shook my head. "This has got to be unhealthy."

He brightened instantly, going from rock bottom to mountaintop like he often does.

"Hold my hand!" he ordered brightly, holding his hand out to me.
I rolled my eyes. "Cal..."
"Come on, come on, come on..." he whispered, bouncing up and down slightly.

I took his hand and he smiled widely. Our fingers laced and he fell pensively silent.

"Hey..." I said quietly.

He popped out of his daze.

"Yeah?"
"This... This whole body temperature thing didn't spring out of what I said about not being able to touch anything... Did it?"
He sighed and tried to shake my hand away. I held on tight.

"Tell me." I glared at him.

Cal didn't answer and, instead, continued to gently try and worm his fingers from mine. I dug my fingernails into the back of his hand. He gasped in pain and looked up at me with angry eyes.

"Ivy!"
"This isn't right! What you're doing to yourself... It doesn't matter if you-"
"Why do you care?!" he hissed, his throat tightening.
"Because, Cal! I care what happens to you!"
"Bullshit!" He wrenched his hand away. My nails dragged across his skin.
"What?" I gasped.
"Bullshit! You don't care!"
"What is wrong with you?" I cried. "I'm trying to help!"

"Well, don't!" he shouted, getting up from the bed. He stormed over to the bureau and snatched his jacket.

"Cal!" I cried. "You can't just..."

I trailed off.

Something strange was happening to Cal. He swayed dramatically, stumbling backwards a bit. His jacket fell onto the ground, his hand limp. He sucked in a deep breath and pressed a flat palm onto his forehead.

"Cal?" I asked, quiet.

He turned around, a look of soft confusion on his face. His lips were tinged blue and his dark hair stood out like a shock of midnight against his impossibly white skin. He was shivering lightly.

"Cal!" I cried.
"I don't feel good..." he said airily.

I grabbed his shoulders and led him back to the bed.

"Sit down, sit down," I breathed.

My heart beat heavy in my chest and I could feel it pulse in my neck and fingers. My face flushed in panic. I couldn't think of anything to do.

"I'm cold," Cal groaned quietly.

His eyelids flitted closed and I shook him roughly.

"Don't go to sleep!" I yelled, my voice on the edge of hysteria.
"I'm really, really, really, really," he murmured, his voice breaking into a whisper. "Really, really, really cold."

I threw my comforter over his shoulders.

"Fix it! Do something! Make your body temperature go back up!"
"I can't..." He sighed, closing his eyes again.
"Don't go to sleep!"

I didn't know what Cal's body was doing, but it seemed as though it was slowly shutting down. His brain was misfiring from the stress he was putting on himself... I knew enough to not let him go to sleep.

"I'm tired, Ivy, I'm tired..." he whined, his voice straining.
"No, no, no!"

I reached out and put a hand to his cheek. I could feel the temperature of his skin lowering and lowering...

Fear seized my heart and stomach and forced them up into my throat. I couldn't see straight. Cal was going to die. My hands started to shake. His fingertips were blue.

Out of desperation, I reached out and took Cal's face in my hands. His eyes were closed. I closed my eyes and kissed him.

I desperately clung to the back of his head. At first, there was nothing...

And then warmth came flooding back into his face. He jumped in surprise when he realized what was happening. He snapped his head back and broke the kiss. I stared at him, motionless. Color had crawled back into his cheeks.

I found myself staring into his dark eyes. My heart echoed in my ears. Every little sound was magnified... Cal's whispered, "Um..." and his shallow breathing crashed through the space between us.

Then, as if in slow motion, Cal leaned in to me. I allowed him to kiss my lips hesitantly. He drew back quickly and looked in my eyes. I blinked, showing no emotion. Cal took this as encouragement and raised a hand to my face. He cupped my chin in his hand and softly pecked my lips.

I pushed him away.

I didn't know how I felt. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to say things... Good things... But I wanted to yell and curse, too. Confusion bubbled up behind my lips and forced out a weak: "Cal?"

He looked me straight in the eyes, still shaking; but for a different reason this time.

"Ivy," he breathed. "I think I like you."
"What?"
"A lot."

I searched his face for a hint of playfulness. Nothing.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.
"What?" I repeated as a default.
"Sorry."

"I don't..." I began.

I'd meant to say, "I don't understand," but Cal seemed to take it as a negative sign. He jumped up off of the bed and scrambled towards the door.

"Cal, wait!" I called, but it was too late.

The door slammed.