Deceived

Chapter Three

Once I complete Instructor Genrich's essay, I lean back in my chair and run my fingers through my hair, fussing with a tangle that worked its way behind my ear. Finishing that essay took the better part of the afternoon and most of the evening. My sister gave me a funny look when she asked if I planned on blogging after dinner and I told her I had to finish my homework. Said it was "uncharacteristic" of me, though Mother gave me an approving smile.

Surprisingly enough, I actually didn't mind finishing the paper.

The article Genrich gave me, though dense, was interesting. It was all about communication in maritime environments and the shortcomings of the Community's usual systems. Even with our GNSS satellites in place, those aren't reachable in all parts of the globe, and cell phones aren't reliable once on the high seas, especially outside of Community range. The coast guard—and Special Forces even—have to rely on versatile tech to get messages through when running missions in the territories.

While I don't want to live outside of the Community and don't plan to research communication technology, it is nice to know that my options aren't limited to a beach lifeguard or high school swimming instructor.

I tap my chin, smiling at the thought while I stare at the ceiling where thin brackets hold each tiled panel in place around the LED light panel. Maybe I ought to see what else Genrich can find for me. So odd. One moment I hadn't wanted to work on homework, and the next, I had felt a need, a compulsion to complete that essay.

No wonder—it was actually useful. I flip forward in my chair and load EYEnet. I need to get to bed soon, but has anyone else had this sort of luck with her? Maybe my sister will have Genrich for communications class, too.

I spend the next hour searching the blogs of her former students, and I manage to find three blogs with some sort of note of how she turned their life around. How they could go to her for a pep talk, and how she was better than any counselor they spoke with. How, upon entering her office, they simply hadn't cared.

After leaving, they did.

Of the three, two sound like they really just needed a pep talk. One of them, however, sounds a bit more like me.

I was having a bad day—well, week—and I didn't get around to finishing my homework. I'd gone to the counselors and they gave me a pill that helped me get through the day, but I ran out of those two days ago.

Then I failed one of her tests. She called me into the office, and the next thing I knew, I was back in my room, redoing all my failed assignments and finishing the missing ones.

I just did them. I had to. It was like... I don't even know how to describe it.

I don't know what it is she did, but I think she's done a lot to help students push through even when things aren't really working out.

It's not just me, then. I can still picture Instructor Genrich's face. Her keen eyes and those mounds of wrinkles betraying her age. She's certainly had time to practice guilt-tripping students into doing their homework.

I reach for my glass of water, then freeze.

The water hovers above the lip of the cup, the curves of liquid shaping an uncanny likeness of Genrich's face. The water hovers in place, wobbles, and then splashes into the cup, spraying droplets across my desk and computer screen.

I stare at the glass, my heart pounding in my ears.

I couldn't have seen that.

That was a very clear hallucination... not one of those "I think I saw something" moments.

This whole botching a test thing is messing with me way more than it should. I reach across the desk to grab a tissue to clean the water, and my hand bumps into the orange adominogen pill bottle with the pills I haven't been taking.

Theophrenia...

No, it's been contained.

But I thought I felt the water lapping against my skin yesterday even when I wasn't in the pool. That was just dizziness, right?

What if it wasn't?

What if there's been a resurgence of the plague? What if I'm infected?

I grab the glass and beeline to the kitchen sink, dumping it out before thrusting it into the dishwasher and taking a deep breath to steady myself. I'm not using that glass again.

"Are you okay?"

I spin around, heart pounding. My sister stands behind me, her head cocked with a puzzled expression.

"I thought I heard a shriek."

"Did you?" I force a smile as sweat condenses on my forehead. "Sorry. I spilled my glass."

She grimaces. "Ick. Need help cleaning the mess?"

"No." I shake my head quickly. I can't have her coming in and seeing that there isn't much of a mess to clean. "I've already taken care of it."

"Okay. Well... did you at least get your homework done?" She wiggles her hips, and I can tell she wants to talk. But now is really not a good time.

"Yeah-yeah." I fill a fresh glass and take a gulp. "It's done."

"Are you sure you're okay?" She lowers her chin, her lips twisting into a worried frown. "You're acting funny."

My fingers twitch. No. No, I'm not okay. I might have theophrenia. Tomorrow, at school...

Who am I kidding? If I'm infected, I can't go to school. I might infect someone.

I might infect my sister.

A cold chill shoots through my spine. "Sorry... I got to go." I rush past her and slam my bedroom door behind me.

I might have theophrenia. What if I do? What's going to happen to me? How long will the treatment take? Will I still be able to go swimming? My breaths come in ragged gasps and the room spins.

Breathe... I need to breathe...

I close my eyes and force myself to take a slow, deep breath in, and then slowly exhale that breath out. In. Out. In. Out. Until I can finally think straight. Tomorrow I'll go to the downtown clinic. I'll take the Health Scan. That will prove I'm not infected, or "uncharacteristically" interested in school. It's only the extra stress of the essay Instructor Genrich had me write.

I'm not infected.

That's impossible.

* * *

Thanks for reading up to this point! I hope you're enjoying it. Come back next Monday for chapter four! :-D

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