Chapter Twenty-Two
Jesse glared at Kells.
"What are you doing here?"
"Just curious." He shrugged. "She's wavering. Not a good thing for our side in case you are wondering. Logios's commands are having more of an affect than he thought. I was just trying to help her make up her mind."
"All you did was change..." Jesse's jaw clenched, cutting off his words. He just glared at the man across from me who was smiling back. Whatever he was about to say wasn't allowed and Kells knew that. "Let go of her before she calls the whole..."
"Nat..."
Schylar, Chris, and surprisingly Union appeared next to the Elite. The three of them were not happy to see the two and vice versa.
"OoOo," Kells said. "And it gets even more interesting."
All the paths were illuminated, making my little booth light up with blue/gold streaks. The Elites' doubles were looking at me in concern. I didn't have the courage to look at Union or the man who sat across from me. For some reason the man had an adverse affect on my cough and I wanted nothing more than to pull my arm away from his hand.
I looked down at it, ignoring the testosterone filled squabbling behind me. Where his hand gripped mine, the colored lines I would soon have were starting to outline, covering the black ones I'd come to know so well. The funny thing about it was my love line. I could see it now, the shivering and pulling. The line was trying to straighten out to undo the knot I'd somehow managed to place in it.
The whole thing was a little more than I could handle.
I stood up from the red plastic chair, pulling my hand out of his grip and stepped back. With everyone in there and the paths lit up like luminaries at Christmas, I was getting a little more claustrophobic than I already was.
Cecil reached out to fold me in his arms since it was the only thing that'd ever gotten my cough to stop. But Schylar slapped it down and shot him a hateful look.
"Don't even think about it, asshole."
Since the man didn't have a hold of my arm anymore, the cough had died down but my throat still hurt and my lungs felt like they were on fire. Schylar drew me to him, hugging me close while still glaring at our former best friend.
"The answer is still most definitely no."
What? My brow furrowed in confusion and I looked up at him. I was pretty sure no one had asked a question, let alone the answer be no. Just last night he was telling me how dense Cecil was and that...
"You have no idea what you're doing, Schylar," Jesse said in a low warning voice. "Let Cyrus take her to the clinic."
Ah, well, that answered my question.
"Schy," I cleared my throat since it sounded way husky. "Schy, it's ok. Don't worry, ok?"
He was still unrelenting and glaring at the Elite. I cleared my throat again, not to get his attention but because it felt like something was slowly sliding down the back of it. Like when you have a runny nose but the mucus flows down your throat instead of out your nose. I did it again and the taste of blood filled my mouth, followed by a small cough. Being a girl of manners, I covered my mouth.
"Oh that's not good," the reader said. His chin was propped on his hand while the other was drumming on the table. "Looks like we have a—live one."
Schylar finally let me go enough that I stood on my own, my open hand splayed out in front of me. I stared at it wide-eyed in disbelief. Blood sat there, pooled in my palm. If I had any more doubts, they were gone now. This was how Cecil's started. We were playing one afternoon, running around on the playground, when he stopped and coughed for a good five minutes.
Then the exact same thing happened to him.
I whimpered, my fingers splaying just a little wider.
"It's begun. This is going to be interesting."
When I looked up to glare at the man, I found he was gone. The only thing sitting there was his empty blue chair.
*
Thankfully it was towards the end of the school day. We were technically allowed to leave after our readings were over so Schylar and Chris leaving to meet Cecil and I at the clinic wasn't a problem. My cough had calmed down to almost nonexistent by the time we got there because his hand was holding onto mine. The whole thing was weird...creepy...just about every adjective one could think of when it came to Halloween. The whole experience was like some off the wall science fiction movie.
As soon as Cecil told Wilson what happened, he quickly ushered me into an exam room. I was subsequentially hooked up to an IV, a bag of blood hanging on the stand next to me. All three boys sat there with me while I got my transfusion, the room silent unless one of them opened their mouth and started talking.
It sucked, not that they were there, that was nice actually. No the transfusion sucked and it hurt. The doctor hadn't been wrong about that. It was worse than anything I'd ever felt before. Worse than falling off my bike, or taking a tumble out of a tree. Worse than the one time my dad pushed me too high on the swing and I lost my grip.
Schylar was still being an asshole towards Cecil, not allowing him to hold my hand at all once he got there. He said that was the best friend's job and Cecil was definitely not my best friend. He was acting like he was three. I was too tired to argue with them, either of them, so I let Schylar rule the situation, at least until my father got there. Chris had called him when they were on the way to the clinic. I think the school might've called him too but I wasn't sure.
My father was as close to frantic as I'd ever seen him. He stayed calm enough to talk to Wilson and then took his five minutes to have a melt down. For that, Wilson took him to another exam room so I wouldn't see or hear it. I wasn't mad, if anything I felt bad for him.
The transfusion itself felt like a part of me, little microscopic pieces of me, were being taken and replaced by something else, someone else. I didn't know whose blood cells I was receiving and I didn't much care. All I knew was they weren't mine and they made me hurt. My lungs, my whole body, my skin, my head, everything felt like it was on fire and weighed more then they should. Dr. Wilson said it was because my body wasn't used to the mixture of blood. Because that's what the transfusions were for, helping the body acclimate to Elite blood.
This was usually the part were people died. Their bodies couldn't adjust correctly to the changing of the blood and they slipped into the death sleep only to die a few hours later. I was bound and determined not to let that happen to me but I knew, on some level, that if it was meant to happen, then it would. I would have no say in the matter.
The streaks were permanently there as was Cecil's double. But since no one was moving much, the streaks were nonexistent. The double though, he was permanent and I didn't like the look on his face. He was worried. He was doubtful. He was sad.
Cecil remained stone faced, sitting completely still and stiff in the waiting chair one of the nurses had brought in. Chris sat in the other, his fisted hand holding up his head. I was getting the feeling he hadn't expected this. Out of the four of us, Chris had the least amount of experience when dealing with The Sickness. He'd stayed away the whole time Cecil was sick and since no one else close to him got The Sickness, he didn't know exactly what to expect.
But now he did and I was slightly worried he would run.
"You know," Schylar shifted on the stool he was sitting on making it squeak. "I think I want a doughnut."
"A doughnut." I smiled. "Really?"
He nodded. "A glazed one. Maybe with sprinkles. I wonder if Maria Claire made any of those today."
"You don't want a glazed doughnut."
"No?" He frowned. "Are you sure? Because..."
"You don't even like glazed, dude," Chris spoke up. "You're more of a bear claw type guy. Glazed doughnuts with sprinkles are for girls."
"Hey," I exclaimed, looking over at him. "There is nothing wrong with sprinkles. And not just girls like them."
"I don't know. Rainbow colored bits of sugar seem like a girly thing to me."
"If I remember correctly, dude, your birthday cake when you turned eight had sprinkles."
For the next five minutes I was subjected to hearing them argue about sprinkles.
Sprinkles.
Of all things.
Cecil sat and listened to the whole thing, not bothering to put his two cents in. As it was, this was the closest he'd been to his old friends in three years. He looked a little wary as he watched his former friends argue about something he obviously knew about. He was disconnected and the only reason he was in here was because of me.
"Guys, enough about doughnuts and sprinkles. You're giving me a migraine."
"Sorry, almighty sick one," Schylar joked. "I wonder how much longer your dad is going to freak out."
"He should be here in a few minutes," I said while yawning.
"How do you know?" he said the same time Chris said, "You just looked like a cat."
Schylar frowned at him in confusion and I smiled, knowing exactly what he was referring to. I was too tired to explain it to Schylar so instead I just answered the easier question.
"The door is glowing."
"The door is glowing," Schylar said it as a disbelieving statement. "Nat, I think you're hallucinating."
I shook my head. "Nope." I popped the p just because I felt like it. "My dad is going to come through the door in five minutes. Chris is going to say something wildly inappropriate which will make you go over to the counter and throw cotton balls. Cecil is going to have to break up the fight which will just make you both more pissed off. The three of you will get into a very loud argument of which my father can't even break you out of so the nurse sitting at the front desk will call security. All three of you will be escorted out of the clinic by my uncle and after that the path goes a little cockeyed because..."
"Tally, stop," Cecil said softly.
The blue/gold streaks shimmered and shook, changing course completely. I studied them for just a second and just as Schylar was about to respond to that, I slapped a hand over his mouth.
"Don't even think about it." I moved my hand off his mouth and pointed at him. "I mean it."
"See now you're just creepy. Has anyone told you that? You've got that creepy little freckle by your ear. And one of your earlobes is bigger than the other..."
I shoved him again and the stool slid across the floor.
"Don't be mean to me. Chris! Make him stop. He's your tennis partner."
"And he's your best friend so I think that makes us even."
"I'm sick. You're supposed to be nice to sick people. Arguing about doughnuts and sprinkles and telling me I'm weird looking is not being nice."
Schylar grinned and pointed at me. "But it made you smile."
"Do it in a nicer way next time." He tried to take my hand back but I slapped him away. "Don't even try it, bucko. No handholding for you. Go away. Go find Brittany. I'm sure she'd love to hold your hand and hear how creepy you find her."
Chris snorted from over where he was sitting. "Dude, I wouldn't do that. Not if you were planning on getting laid anytime soon."
"Oh please. That girl knows she's a walking disease. If he told her what he really thought, it would be a first. Hell it might be a turn on."
"And what would you know about turn ons?" Schylar joked, rolling his stool back to the bed.
"Watching you is better then the sex ed video we watched in eighth grade."
"Oh that's low, Nat. So very low."
"So was saying I'm creepy." The door opened and my father stood there for a second. "Hi Daddy."
Schylar got up from the stool and surrendered it to my father. He kept rubbing his hands against the thighs of his slacks, looking over everything before laying his eyes on me.
"It's not that bad," I said. "Trust me. You missed the worst part."
"I did?"
I nodded and motioned towards where Schylar was now standing next to Chris.
"They were arguing about sprinkles."
My father smiled and looked at the three boys lining the wall of the small room.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah," Schylar shrugged. "Sprinkles on doughnuts. Chris said..."
"They're girly, dude. Ok? I don't care what you say."
"Boston Crème," my father said. "Those are the best. Oh, Schylar your mother called my office. She wants you home for dinner. You too Chris. Apparently my secretary handled calls from all your mothers." He looked at Cecil pointedly. "Yours too."
There was no reaction to that other than a slight jerk of his head. I thought it may be a nod but I wasn't sure.
"Alright then," Chris said. "Nat, I'll come check on you tomorrow."
"That'll be fine."
"Before or after school, please boys. I don't need to hear from the school that you skipped to see her."
"Okie doke, Mr. A," Chris said. He patted me on the knee before leaving.
Schylar took his seat stretching out.
"Schy," I said. "Home. You. Go."
"No. I'm just fine here, thanks."
My father snorted. "She said you'd say that. She's sending over a change of clothes for tomorrow as well as dinner. But I have to say, if you're taking the guestroom again, make the bed before you disappear. And everyone. Recite the rule about juice."
I grinned. "Never drink out of the carton," all three of us chorused.
"Very good, everyone." He looked at me. "Dr. Wilson said I can take you home in fifteen minutes."
"I'll probably be asleep by then."
In a flash, Cecil was up out of his chair and standing next to me. "You can't go to sleep yet."
"Really? Because I really, really want to go to sleep and it seems like a really, really good idea."
"It's not. Trust me."
"It's ok, Cyrus," Dr. Wilson said, coming into the room. "She can go to sleep."
"No—" he barely glanced over at him "—she can't."
"Cyrus..."
"SHE CAN'T! Ok? She just—can't."
For everyone who wasn't me, that was the first crack in his otherwise stony demeanor. It wasn't shrill or a yell really it was just intense. It was probably the most emotion he'd shown outwardly in a long while I bet.
"There's a sedative in her IV fluids, Cyrus. She needs to rest."
"Well, she can do it without the sedative."
He reached for the IV but my father grabbed his wrist stilling his movements.
"Let the doctor do his job, Cecil. She'll be ok."
"If she goes to sleep, she might not wake up. It's Wednesday, Mr. Abernathy. If she's going to fall into the death sleep..."
And that's all I got because then I fell asleep.