Over the past three weeks I'd grown a passionate hatred for the stomach flu.
First Dad caught it, because he sucks like that. He's great at taking care of the lot of us when we're all sick but he's also great at catching bugs and then bringing them home to share with us.
It took a feeble three days for both Sera and Isla to start spewing alongside him. The odor of sick had been confined to the bathroom where Dad sat glued to the toilet until that point, but afterwards the whole house just reeked of the stuff. There was no avoiding it. The triplets had only just turned four, I swear Sera and Isla cried for two days straight.
Papa was already stressed and tense with three sick people on his hands so when the family germophobe joined the party the fun just doubled. Sienna didn't know what to do with herself, and Papa didn't know how to calm her down either. This resulted in endless nights of panicked tears and cried that kept the entire house up.
Thankfully Dad got over it before Thea and Harper got sick too because Papa was an inch away from snapping in two. Before that I'd been the second hand man so it was a relief to be able to relax and distance myself from the whole situation. As bad as I felt for my sisters I was pleased it was them rather than me.
Another week passed, and everyone was back on their feet pretty much. A bit tired with some sore throats but functional. Papa and I were pretty pleased with ourselves for avoiding coming down with it ourselves.
Unfortunately I'd celebrated four days too early.
My pillow crinkled as I shifted and changed the TV channel lazily. My bed sheets were damp with sweat and the bucket beside my head was used. The smell didn't even bother me anymore. I'd seen and smelled enough of the stuff recently to become immune.
I glanced at the empty glass on my bedside table and groaned, itching at my dry throat.
Dad and Papa had both used all their time off so I was home all alone, miserable and thirsty. I'd been up all night throwing up, I blacked out when I stood up. I wasn't doing that just for a drink.
Sourly I observed the advertisement on the TV before huffing and switching it off. With all the noise cut out I could hear my stomach growling and rolling around like there was an animal trapped inside of it. One that wanted out.
Wearily I sat up over the bucket on the floor, one hand on my gut. My nose and throat burned as I threw up and all I could taste was acid.
Afterward my eyes started playing a few tricks on me but I was already half way up, I figured I might as well carry on out to the kitchen to grab some more water. The taste in my mouth was awful so the need for a drink had only heightened. Toothpaste would make me gag, so that was a no go.
The stairs weren't any fun but I made it and then dragged myself over to the fridge with my empty cup. There was a bowl of soup in there ready for heating, labelled with a yellow post it note from Papa. I swallowed and pushed it aside to get to the water jug, maybe I'd be hungry later on but right then seeing it just made me nauseous.
I heard a familiar text tone and paused mid way through filling up my cup, glancing around. I hadn't even seen my phone since yesterday. I'd been sitting there messing about on it yesterday when I suddenly felt bile rising in my throat. My reaction was to panic, so I'd thrown it who knows where and bolted for the bathroom.
I couldn't see it, so I decided that I didn't care. It was probably just Dad or Papa checking up on me, or both.
The moment my arse hit the soft cushion of my favourite lazy boy chair my phone started singing again before a call came through. I stood up, fumbled sprung for a bit because the head rush was so intense I couldn't see a damn thing, and soon my hands landed on the cool steel of my phone where it sat under the dining room table. I must've really chucked the thing, it had gone a solid few metres from where I'd been sitting.
Eyes glassy and blurry I struggled at first to even make out the caller ID name. It took a few rubs and blinks to clear up and by the then my phone had stopped ringing and instead displayed a missed call from Benji. It wasn't the first one either, the number read 18.
I grabbed hold of one of the chair to steady myself and went to text him back but another heap of messages came through, too fast for me to read, and then my phone was backing to screaming and vibrating in my hand.
I groaned, answering reluctantly. My voice sounded like crap, I didn't really want to talk to anyone.
"Where the hell are you Jake?" He yelled before I even had the chance to say hello.
"At home," I replied, wincing at how hoarse I sounded. Benji's yelling was tough on me, but I'd bet listening to my voice through the phone was like listening to someone drag their nails down a chalkboard.
Benji didn't seem to notice anything different, "well you need to get here right now!"
Frowning I sat down on the chair I was leaning on before my legs gave out, "why do you sound so panicked?"
"The presentation Jake, it's on your flash drive!"
The grip I had on my phone tightened as the memory flooded back. "Oh my god. . ."
"It's due next period and you're not even here Jake, you know Mrs Francis will fail our whole group if she doesn't see this thing today. I'm freaking out, you seriously need to get here," said Bengi on the other side of the line. I could tell he was trying to keep it together but the poor dude cared way too much about his grades and this presentation was worth a lot.
"I'll just email it-"
"No, we tried that, the file was too big. What's up with you?" Bengi questioned, "actually, I don't care, just get here in the next forty minutes."
Then he hung up.
The only way I could think to get to the school was to walk myself there. The bus routes were unreliable and Dad and Papa were useless, they had no time off, and if I did ask them they'd tell me I was sick and that I shouldn't worry about it. They wouldn't have driven me even if they could.
The idea of walking made my head hurt but I didn't really have any other option, it was either walk to school or have my head ripped of by Bengi and the other members of my group tomorrow. All those high achievers would hate me forever.
I grabbed the flash drive off the table, took a stomach relaxer, and laced on a pair of shoes before heading out the door. I wasn't exactly dressed for the outside world, unless old PE shorts and a singlet with a tea stain on the bottom hem was a thing, but I wasn't going all the way back up the stairs. I'd be done before I'd even started.
I texted Bengi and put my phone into my pocket, on my way.
The sun was shining so brightly I swore my eyeballs were melting and the heat was making me sweat more than I already was. The 38.8 degree fever I'd had that morning had probably gone up by now and I was feeling it in the jellyness of my legs and how every time I blinked I almost nodded off. I really should've grabbed a pair of sunglasses, by the time I got to the end of the street I'd already developed a dull ache at the back of my skull.
A car reversed out of a driveway at one point and I was too out of it to even notice. When I did finally snap back into reality it was inches away and the driver was honking his horn at me angrily, gesturing me to get out of his way. I waved apologetically and stumbled off his drive. He pulled the finger at me as he drove away.
Dick.
My phone and the flash drive felt like bricks in my pockets when I finally reached the high school. The stomach relaxer hadn't worked any wonders and my feet felt as if they'd been run over.
Benji was waiting for me by the gates, keenly urging me to hurry up as I entered his line of vision.
I watched his face go from a look of realisation to a sheepish one as I drew to a stop in front of him, breathing heavily.
"Geez, I thought you were wagging Mate, I didn't actually think-"
I threw a finger up, signalling for him to give me a second, "ugh, I think I might be sick. . ."
Bengi took a step backwards.
Once the feeling passed I retrieved the flash drive from the bottom of my pocket and slapped it into his hand roughly, "there's your drive."
Benji kissed it dramatically and tucked it safely away in his back pocket. He checked his phone and then lead me over to a wall to lean against, "did you walk all the way here like this?"
I rubbed at my eyes tiredly and nodded, bending over. My head felt so heavy it could've fallen off my shoulders.
"Damn it Jake, you should've said you were sick! How are you going to get back home? Where are your dads?"
I shrugged and decided to sit down. My legs felt like jelly and there was a point where my knees didn't lock and I simply fell down onto my butt. "They're at work."
Benji glanced around, not knowing what to do. Honestly, I wasn't sure either. I'd made it to the school without passing out or throwing up but I wasn't feeling confident about making it back.
"I've got to get to class," Benji murmured to himself, glancing around, undecided on what to do next.
My stomach contracted and I hurriedly waved Benji away before retching hard at the ground. Once Benji's converse disappeared from my line of vision I relaxed a little knowing that I wasn't gonna puke on him but my gut must've got nervous or something because all I could manage was unproductive dry heaves. I wasn't sure whether to be happy about it or not, puking in public wasn't great, but at least I got some relief out of it. Now I was just going to be nauseous and clammy until I could actually throw up.
"Give me your phone, I'll ring them to pick you up."
One hand resting on my still unsettled stomach I shook my head and groaned, "I'll get in the shit for leaving. . ."
Benji clicked his tongue anxiously, "uh, then I'll call my Mum. She'll take you. I've got to run Jake, thanks for the flash drive. Don't move, I'll tell her where you are."
By the time I gathered the strength to look up he'd gone. I dragged my hand down my face and flicked a sharp piece of concrete away, this would be fun. I loved baking in the sun with a fever and the stomach flu. I supposed it was my own fault, but it would've been nice if Benji had hung around. Before he left his shadow was blocking the sun but now I was sweating balls and I couldn't see a thing.
Ten minutes later Benji's Mum pulled up on the side of the road in her little red Honda. She got out and tenderly helped me into the car, tsking her son all the while. Asking me why he'd just left me there. I explained about the presentation but I fell asleep before I got the whole way through. It was cool inside the car and the seats were like clouds. It was impossible not to drift off.
When she shook me awake we were on my driveway and much to my dismay there was another car there too. Benji's mum took no notice of it, she let me out and wished me better before driving away. I reluctantly checked my phone, knowing full well that it'd be exploding for the second time that day.
The messages timed back to ten minutes ago and they came from both Dad and Papa, increasing in capitals with every word.
I grimaced and knocked on the front door. I was about to get my head ripped off despite giving Benji the flash drive.
The door opened and I was hit in the face with the smell of ham and bread as Papa breathed out a long sigh of relief and yanked me inside and into his chest, "thank god! We were so worried!"
I relaxed slightly, realising that I didn't seem to be in any trouble. Then the smell tipped me over the edge and I puked right there on the floor.
Somehow, I didn't get a telling off for that either. Apparently being sick and missing for ten minutes gave me a free pass. I'd have to try it more often.
As you can tell, I was a bit lost for ideas. Another broad prompt and I struggled. I don't even know if there's really a plot here, is there? Oh man, not good. I know they're just short one shorts but I always try to give them some kind of storyline and plot, sadly this one fell a bit short of the cut I think.
I need to up my game hahaha. I'll do better on the next one for: larrybeiberdreams