Annalise Springster's a High School Dropout

Chapter 2

She seems confused, a little spacier than usual.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," she laughs.

"Like what?"

"Like thatttt." She exaggeratedly circles an olive green finger around my face, chuckling. "That weird expression of concern and horror you do like you've just seen someone kick a puppy."

Uh oh, I'm caught.

"Hmm, no idea what you're talking about," I say sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes. "I'm fine, Cass. Just needed a blank canvas. Clear canvas, clear mind."

Maybe I shouldn't pry further.

"Want to stay the night?"

"Yeah, sure." She reaches for her towel and wipes her hands. "Thanks, that'd probably be best, the mayor's over tonight and he and dad are prob—"

The earsplitting sound of glass shattering drowns out her voice. I get up from my bed eyes widened, and Annie goes for the door handle. Footsteps pound rapidly up the stairs and across the landing. My bedroom door swings open hitting Annie in the arm with a soft thud. Sammy stands in the doorway his face a pale dusty, coffee color, his eyes sunken and streaming tears. Snot runs down his nose as he says, "Mommy's shaking again."

I grab him by his shoulders a bit more roughly than intended. "Where is she?"

More tears. "The kitchen, Cassie I—."

Without thinking, I grab one of my pillows, shove him lightly to the side, and bound through the doorway headed for the stairs. I hear him trailing behind me.

"Sammy, go to your room!" I yell while taking on the stairs. The footsteps stop, and I hear Annie doing her stiff version of coaxing trying to convince him to go to his room. A door closes somewhere behind me.

Where the heck is Karla?!

I reach the first floor and head down the corridor leading to the front door. Blood rushes to my ears with every second that passes. Each second counts.

I reach the kitchen and see Cole on the opposite side of the counter looking towards the floor. I whip around the counter and feel my throat constrict.

My mother is seizing violently on the ground. Glass outlines her small frame.

"Did she hit her head?" I say slipping the pillow underneath her skull.

"No, we caught her and laid her down," he spat out. "We just wanted some juice and—"

"Cole, it's fine, just go upstairs to your room." I grab a dish towel and drape it over the glass beside her. I lower to my knees and rub her arm gently.

Good, no head trauma.

"And—and," he chokes through his tears.

Moving her bright yellow armband closer to her wrist, I examine her bare skin.

And no wounds.

"A—and—a."

"UPSTAIRS NOW!" I roar fighting back my own tears. Another rush of footsteps comes from behind.

"Come on Cole."

"Hey, Annie," I say picking glass from my mother's hair. "Can you call my dad please?" My voice is shaky.

"Yeah of course."

My mom has a condition. The doctors aren't exactly sure what it is yet. She suffers from violent seizures, and she has been for as long as I can remember. Epilepsy? No. A brain tumor? No. A brain injury? No. Any triggers? No. No one knows. Every few months she goes to Moroburg Hospital, the closest city hospital to Greensboro, so they can run tests. They say none of the tests she has taken prove or disprove anything. They've prescribed a million medications that she is always faithful to, but they haven't improved her condition. Most say it's probably some new condition.