And Then There Was Vince

Chapter 16: Playing Hooky, But For Real This Time

The next day I woke up not feeling so hot myself. My throat burned when I swallowed, and my eyes felt as if they hadn't seen sleep in 10 years. I knew from the fact that I was sweating under a single cover in the early October chill that a fever was a definite possibility for me.

Feeling unsteady on my feet with the ache of an 80 year old arthritic in my joints, I walked myself downstairs and sought out the thermometer, knowing my mother wouldn't go easy on me unless science proved to her that something was undeniably wrong.

102 degrees. I was actually surprised it was that high.

"Why do you have the thermometer out honey?" My mom asked as she breezed into the kitchen to make her and my father a pot of coffee.

"I don't feel very good," I said in the sickest sounding voice I'd ever heard emanating from my body.

She came over and pressed her lips to my forehead then let out a gasp.

"Yeah, you really don't do you?" She asked, glancing over my shaky figure. "What's the thermometer say?"

"102," I showed her, holding the tiny screen in front of her face.

"Oh god," she said, quickly grabbing disinfectant wipes for use on any sullied technology or surface. She turned on the tea kettle and sliced a lemon as I sank into a kitchen chair and dropped my head on the table.

"Honey go lay down. I'll bring the tea to you when it's ready," she said, coming over to grip my shoulder reassuringly. "I'm going to call over to the doctor's and see if they can get you in today. Oh, and here."

She set two small pills in front of me with a glass of water.

"We need to get your fever down," she explained. "Plus it'll make you feel better."

And mother was right. I fell back to sleep almost immediately after I threw myself on to the couch. Less than an hour had gone by but the mug of tea on the end table next to me was chilled now, hardly even lukewarm. Underneath I found a yellow sticky note informing me that I had an appointment at 11:15. I groaned, truly not feeling like leaving the house.

I drug myself upstairs to find real clothes to wear, slipping into whatever felt most comfortable. Today it was a pair of sweatpants and an immature t-shirt from a childhood show.

I'd been wearing those kinds of things a bit more openly lately. It wasn't as if I was around Ashley all the time and had any appearances to be keeping up.

I relaxed back into the couch with a couple of hours left to spare. I opened my messages and shot one to Vincent.

"What have you done to me?" I asked, hoping that wasn't a weird way to open.

Surprisingly, his response only took a few minutes.

"You too?" Was the reply, complete with an emoji taking its temp.

"I have a fever of 102 and everything hurts," I whined.

"Poor baby," he shot back, making me chuckle.

I spent the remainder of the time drifting in and out of sleep and having creepy fever dreams about whatever character I'd last happened to glimpse on TV.

My mother breezed back in nearing eleven and led her reluctant child out to the car.

I always hated waiting at the doctors. By the time 11:20 had rolled around, I had long since lost my patience. In usual circumstances the extra minutes wouldn't bother me, but I was sorely missing the state of my head resting on a pillow and was ready collapse when they finally called out my name.

My mother came back to the room with me, which had recently gotten embarrassing now that I was almost a legal adult. The doctor felt painfully around my neck for the extremely swollen lymph nodes, and then made a sound of disapproval when he looked in my throat.

"Yep, that looks nasty in there," he confirmed for me. "So we're going to have mom leave the room now and you're going to tell me what boy did this to you so I can go hunt him down."

I let out a half-hearted chuckle as my mother guffawed. What was it with the jokes middle aged people told being so weird?

The rest of the visit passed with very little uncomfortable humor, replaced by extremely uncomfortable throat swabbing.

When all was done and collected, he quickly tapped some notes into his laptop and scribbled something illegible down on his notepad.

"We're going to send your sample off for a strep test," he explained. "I'm 99% sure that's what's plaguing you, but there's always a chance it's something different. We're going to start you on an antibiotic today either way. There's no use waiting around for the results when we can possibly have this well on its way to being treated. If the results do happen to come back negative, we can always adjust you to more effective meds. Is that all?"

"Yes, thank you doctor," my mother answered for me, and we followed him out the door.

I could have cried in relief when I finally saw my house again. I don't think I'd ever been so happy to finally be home.

I wobbled up onto the porch and prepared to let myself in. Something sitting next to the door stopped me.

It was a simple yellow grocery bag, packed full with various comfort items including cough drops, throat numbing lozenges, and a glass bowl full of what looked to be still-warm wonton soup.

I brought the bounty inside, curious as to who could have left it. There wasn't anyone I could think of who knew I was sick and would go supply dumping when I wasn't home.

I rushed to the kitchen for a spoon and greedily sat in front of the boob tube with the entire bowl of soup.

Shortly after, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

"I really hope you like wonton soup," was the message that awaited me. It had come from Vincent.

I honestly didn't know how to reply. I felt myself cycling through all sorts of emotions. The first was a rush of warm happiness, the second a deep gratitude, the third a tinge of embarrassment, and the fourth a tiny bit of regret. He had been this awesome for me and I hadn't even thought of taking him something when I found out he was sick.

"You didn't have to do this," was the standard reply I tapped out.

I blew on the soup eagerly as I waited for his response.

"Technically I made Kelsey do it," He wrote back. "I still don't feel good enough to go out. She feels fine as always, though."

"So she's playing hooky?" I asked, not understanding the slight way in which his admission had dampened my mood.

"Like a pro," he responded. "Her parents think she's at school, the school thinks she's at home, and she somehow manages to stump both of them by getting home just in time to play the part."

I stopped responding after that. If Kelsey wasn't at home and she also wasn't at school, that meant that she'd been at Vince's. Some feeling like jealousy was pricking its way into my heart. I hadn't had a friend who would do that for me in ages. Actually, I don't think I'd had one ever. The girls would just send me well wishes and avoid my germ cloud until I was fully healed.

I convinced myself that the lack of a character is what was really bothering me.

I spent the rest of the day dozing in and out of sleep with what felt like a heavy weight pressing down on my stomach.