(Patrick's POV)
I wake up to the sound of vomiting. In between the sounds I hear, "Oh. My. Gosh. Please. Stop. I. Hate. This." It was Kristina.
I flip out. I jump out of my bed and run into the bathroom. Little did I know, all of the guys were up, too. When I get in the bathroom, I immediately hold up her hair with one hand and rub her back with the other.
"It's okay. Let it all out. Are you okay?" I ask.
"No," she says, breathing heavily before she gets sick again.
"It's okay. Just let it out," I say.
"I. Am," she says in the same voice.
"Can one of you drive to the doctor's?" I ask.
"Yeah, I'll drive," Andy says.
Within the next minute, she stops vomiting. She breathes heavily still trying to catch her breath. With her head still hanging, she whips her eyes and forehead with her hands and then flushes the toilet. I let go of her hair and dampen a cloth for her. I hand it to her and she whips off her nose and mouth. She slowly stands up.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"I don't feel good," she says, clinching her stomach and sniffling. I put my hand on her forehead.
"You are burning up," I say.
"I feel like it," she mumbles, exhausted.
"Come on. Let's get you laid down, okay?" I ask. She nods and I help her to the couch. I sit down and she lays down with her head in my lap. I start rubbing her forehead, hoping that it is comforting her. I don't know what works for her when she is sick because she has never been sick with me before.
"What's wrong, kiddo?" Joe asks from the chair across from us.
"I don't feel good," she says.
"What hurts?" He asks.
"My stomach and my head," she answers.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says.
"It's okay," she mumbles.
"Come on, honey. Let's try to sleep," I say as I rub her forehead. "Just close your eyes." She slowly closes her eyes and them she is out of it, once again.
"What time is it?" Pete asks, rubbing his eyes.
"It is," Joe starts while pulling out his phone, "2 in the morning."
"Dang. There isn't going to be a doctor's office open this early," Andy says.
"Well, we have to go somewhere. We can't just let her suffer," I say, still rubbing her forehead.
"Would the emergency room be okay? I mean, when I was younger and I was sick when the doctor's was closed, my mom took me to the emergency room," Joe says.
"It's worth a shot," I say.
"I am heading that way, but I don't know my way around Cleveland," Andy says.
"I've got this," Pete says, typing something into the GPS.
"I am going to back to bed. When I wake up, tell me how the kiddo is doing," Joe says.
"Same here," Pete says as they walk to their bunks.
"I will," I yawn. I am really tired myself, but I need to stay awake for Kristina.
"We should get there in about 10 minutes since there isn't much traffic," Andy says.
"Okay. Thanks for driving, man," I say.
"Oh, it's no problem. Somebody has to," Andy says.
Man, I am tired. I need to stay awake, but why do people only get sick in the middle of the night? You never hear about someone getting sick for the first time at a convenient time during the day. I do feel really bad for her. That isn't a pleasant way to wake up in the morning. I hate that she is sick. I am willing to bet that guy from the plane got her sick. Must you travel if you are sick? Must you?
"Okay, we are here," Andy says. My thoughts went longer than I thought they did.
"Come on, sweetheart," I say, trying to wake up Kristina. "We are at the emergency room. Can you get up for me?"
She slowly sits up.
"I am going to get changed really quick, but you don't have to," I tell her.
"Okay," she says, quietly. I grab the first things I see and change in the bathroom quickly. I put on my glasses, and Kristina and I walk off the bus. I keep my hand on her back as sort of a crutch for her.
"I'm going to go to bed. Will you be able to drive to a hotel?" Andy asks me.
"Yeah, yeah. I can do that. Go to sleep, man," I say.
"Thanks," he yawns.
"Come on, sweetie," I say, as we walk to the door. She clenches her stomach. "We are almost there," I say, soothingly.
I open the door for her, and she walks in, followed by me.
"How may I help you?" The lady behind the counter asks.
"My daughter isn't feeling very well. We aren't from here, and we didn't think any doctor offices were open," I say.
"Yes, all the doctor offices are closed on the weekends. I am sorry your trip has been interfered with. May I get your name?" She asks.
"Stump. Patrick Stump," I answer.
"And you?" She asks Kristina.
"Kristina," she says, tiredly.
"Okay, Mr. Stump, if you will fill out these papers, we will have your daughter checked on shortly," the woman says, handing me a clipboard with three papers worth of paperwork.
"Thank you," I smile. Kristina and I walk to the chairs nearby, assuming that is the waiting room.
With Kristina leaning on my left shoulder, I fill out the paperwork. They all ask the same questions: name, age, gender, weight, height, Social Security number, insurance provider, medical history, and current symptoms.
"I have to ask you a few questions, okay? I don't know much about your medical history," I say.
"Okay," she answers.
"Have you ever had surgery?" I ask.
"Yes," she answers.
"When and where?" I ask.
"2005 and right eardrum," she answers. I write it down.
"Have you ever passed out before?" I ask.
"Several times," she says, and I check the box.
"Have you had migraines?" I ask.
"Yes," she answers and I check the box. I check a few boxes that I know the answer to.
"Have you ever had eating problems?" I ask.
"No," she answers, so I don't check the box.
Then, I get to the family's medical history. That is the information that I know that she doesn't. Then, her current symptoms.
"Okay," I start, "what all is hurting?"
"My stomach, my head, and my nose," she says. I check all the boxes that apply, and that ends my paperwork hassle. I sign my name, and hand the pen to Kristina.
"Can you sign your name?" I ask her.
"Yeah," she sniffles. She slowly signs her name, and I return the paperwork and pen back to the lady behind the counter.
"We will be with you shortly," she says.
I return to my seat next to Kristina, and we wait on the nurse to come and get her. About five minutes later, a nurse opens the door to the emergency room.
"Kristina?" She asks.
Kristina and I get up and follow her to the room in which the doctor will be visiting her. Kristina sits on the bed, and I sit in the only chair in the corner.
"So, Kristina," the nurse says, "I hear we aren't feeling well."
"No, ma'am," she answers.
"We will fix you up, okay? Have you been running a fever?" The nurse asks, but before Kristina could answer, she puts a thermometer in her mouth.
"As of this morning, it seems like she has," I answer.
"Oh, my poor dear," the nurse says, "you have a temperature of 101.3."
"I knew I didn't feel good," Kristina sniffles.
"Have you vomited with this fever?" She asks.
"Yes," Kristina answers.
"Has she had her flu shot, Dad?" The nurse asks me.
"No, ma'am," I answer.
"We will screen you for that," the nurse tells Kristina, in which she nods in reply. The nurse then quickly checks her heat rate, blood pressure, and her height and weight. "The doctor will be with you shortly," she says, and then leaves.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" I ask.
"Not good," she says, clenching her stomach. Then, she runs out of the room. Crap. I the run after her. She finds the restroom and basically runs into it, trying to open it up. After rebounding from the door, she manages to open it. Then, she gets sick again. I do the same as I did last time. I hold her hair back, rub her back, and tell her to let it all out.
I am really glad I don't get sick easily. Otherwise, I'd be throwing up in the sink right now at this sound. After a minute, she is done. I dampen some paper towels, and hand them to her for her to wipe of her nose and mouth. She slowly gets up, and when we both turn around to walk out of the single stall restroom, we see the nurse standing there.
"Are you okay?" She asks. Kristina just shakes her head. "Come on. Let's get you back to the room."
After the nurse walks Kristina to the room, she leaves. Moments later, the doctor walks in.
"Hello, Kristina. I am your doctor. My name is Dr. Jones. I hear we aren't feeling well," he says. What is up with everybody here saying that?
"No," Kristina says.
"Let's see here, we are bad fever, and showing signs of the flu. Have you ever had the flu before?" The doctor asks.
"Yes," she answers.
"Did it feel anything like this?" He asks.
"Yes, sir," she sniffles.
"Okay, let's run a test," he says. He quickly swabs her nose with a cotton swab and leaves.
"Well, that was weird," Kristina says.
"I'm sorry," I say, moderately laughing.
We sit in quietness for quite sometime. We are both very tired and really just don't have the energy to talk. Then, the doctor comes back.
"Yes, Kristina, I am afraid you have to flu. I will fill out you some prescriptions that you can pick up at the pharmacy next door," the doctor states.
"Will she have to stay here for a day or so?" I ask.
"No, once she gets her medicine you both can be on your way," he states.
"Thank you, doctor," I say, firmly shaking his hand one time and with the other I receive the paper wil the prescriptions.
"No problem at all," he says. "Get plenty of rest, my dear," he says while redirecting his attention to Kristina.
"I will," she weakly smiles.
We walk out of the room and head to the pharmacy.
"Wait, do you want to go back to the bus? I can do this by myself if you don't want to come," I say.
"No, I'll stay with you. It's not like I'm going to sleep much on the bus when we are going to a hotel after this," she says.
"Okay, then. Let's go," I say, even though we are already walking. We get into the pharmacy, and Kristina sits in the chair rather than going to the counter.
"How may I help you?" Asks the man behind the counter.
"I just come from the hospital and a Dr. Jones gave me these prescriptions for my daughter," I say, handing him the paper.
He looks over the paper and says, "Okay. I will have these ready for you, shortly."
"Thank you," I say and go sit by Kina.
As soon as I sit down she says, "I don't feel good, Daddy."
"I know, sweetheart. That is why we are here," I say, rubbing her side.
"I'm cold," she says, leaning in closer to me, but she was actually burning up. Fever is a strange thing. I put my other arms around her trying to "warm her up" a little bit.
Moments later, the pharmacist says that her medicine is ready. He points out how often Kristina has to take each of the pills, and I pay him. Kristina and I then leave and walk back to the bus. Once we get the bus, I plug in hotels into the GPS, and Kristina curls up on the couch.
As I am driving, I get rather tired, but I don't fall asleep because I know I will be to the hotel in 10 minutes. At least, that is what the GPS says. To help keep me awake, I start humming random songs. Some of the songs are Elvis Costello, some are Frank Sinatra, and some off of Soul Punk. I never actually completely finished a song, so it was basically a really long cappella.
Before I know it, the GPS is telling me that I am at my final destination. I go the bunks and open up all of their curtains.
"We are at the hotel, guys. Rise and shine so you can sleep in a real bed," I say.
They all get out of bed, and everybody grabs all of their belongings, just so they wouldn't leave anything on the bus. They also help me get Kristina's things, so the sick child didn't have to carry anything.
"Come on, kiddo," Pete says, nudging Kristina's shoulder. "We are at the hotel."
"Okay," she says, slowly getting up.
We walk into the hotel and request the largest room. It actually has 3 bedrooms in the one room. We figured out that as a whole, it is cheaper to pay for one big room for all of us than one individual room for each of us.
We walk into the room, and it is basically a medium sized apartment. We will not be cramped at all in this room. There are three rooms, which means one lucky person gets a room to themselves.
"I call the empty room," Pete says.
"Wait, that's not fair! What if I wanted it?" Joe complains.
"Too bad, guys. It's mine," Andy says.
"Okay, okay. Let's try to be reasonable here. Who deserves a room by themselves?" I ask.
"Well, Andy is the easiest person to work with, so does he deserve the room?" Joe asks.
"Maybe, but you are the tallest so you need more leg room," Pete says to Joe.
"Yes, but Patrick was the one who thought about being reasonable," Joe says.
"True, but Pete is the crankiest in the morning, so nobody is going to want to room with him," I say.
"I'm the crankiest? Look who is talking?" Pete says.
"Aren't we forgetting about someone?" Andy asks, pointing at Kristina curled up on the couch, asleep. I don't even remember her sitting there.
"Oh, yeah," I say.
"Geez, Rick. Forgot about your own kid?" Pete asks.
"No, I just assumed me and her were going to be in the same room because that is normally how the arrangement goes. Besides, doesn't somebody need to watch over her?" I ask.
"Yes, but if you sleep next her, you may sick. Even worse, she could not make it to the bathroom on time and get sick on you," Joe says.
"So, it's decided?" Andy asks.
"Kristina," I say, walking over to her. "Let's get you to bed, alright?" I grab her arm and slowly get her up.
"What time is it?" She asks.
"It's a little after 3, honey," I answer.
"I'm tired," she says.
"I know. I know. That is why we are getting you to bed. Come on," I say. We make it to the room closest to the bathroom. The guys are behind us putting her things in the small room. I tuck her into bed and kiss her forehead. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you. If you need anything, just call for me, okay?"
"Okay. Night, Daddy. I love you," she responds.
The other guys take turns kissing her goodnight, as well. Each of them saying to feel well soon, sleep well, and that they love her. She responds with a quick, "Night. Love you," and then she is asleep again.
Pete is the last one out, so he closes the door behind him. "Man, she is out of it," he says.
"I know. She has never been sick with me before. I hope I'm doing okay. I mean, even when Laura was sick, Elisa took care of her," I say.
"Dude, you are doing fine," Joe says.
"Now let's get to the important business. Who is sleeping in the other rooms?" Andy asks.
"Well, I need to be in the room next to Kristina, so I can hear her better," I say.
"I'll room with you, Patrick. We are best friends, so I don't care, and I know you won't," Pete says.
"Yeah, I don't care. Are you two okay rooming together?" I ask Joe and Andy.
"Well, Andy is my best friend, so I don't care," Joe says.
"I don't care," Andy says.
"So, we all don't care! That's good," I say.
"Yeah. I say let's sleep. It's too early to be up," Joe says.
We all say goodnight, and go put our things in our rooms. I grabbed the pajamas I had on before we went to the hospital and change back into them in the bathroom. Then, I go to my room and quickly fall asleep.
~8 Hours Later~
(Kristina's POV)
I wake up just after 11 o'clock, and I feel terrible. I notice that I am the only one in my room. I thought Dad said I would never get a room by myself? But that is besides the point because I get a bad feeling and run out of my room to try to find the bathroom. Luckily, its right next to my room. I run in the bathroom and get sick. In the midst of it, I hear somebody come in and hold back my hair and start rubbing my back. It is Dad again. Once I am done, he dampens a cloth for me, and I wipe my mouth.
"You okay?" He asks.
"Not really," I say.
"Come on. I have some medicine you can take," Daddy says.
"Okay," I say, and walk out of the bathroom. All of my uncles are sitting in the living room. Uncle Andy is on the couch with Uncle Pete, and Uncle Joe is on the recliner.
"Good morning, kiddo," Uncle Andy says, sipping on some decaf coffee.
"Good morning," I sniff, sitting on the couch between Uncle Andy and Uncle Pete.
"How are you feeling, kiddo?" Uncle Pete asks, rubbing my back.
"Not all that good," I say, leaning on him. "How long have you guys been up?"
"I don't know. About an hour, I guess," Uncle Pete says, sipping on his coffee with his other hand.
"Here is your medicine," Daddy says handing me a glass of what and three pills.
I sit up to take the pills and glass of water from him and swallow them both. One of the pills didn't taste good, so I made a face. Apparently, Dad noticed.
"Something wrong?" He asks.
"One of those pills tasted terrible," I say.
"I'm sorry, but they will make you feel better," he says.
"I know," I sniffle. I then get up and go back to my room. I find the tissues on a little table, and I blow my nose. Then, I plop back down on the bed.
After laying there a moment, I decide it is boring in there, so I go back out to the living room.
"It sucks be sick," I say, leaning on Uncle Pete again.
"I know, Fangirl," Uncle Pete says, putting his arm around me.
"So, how long are we here?" I ask.
"The show isn't until Friday night, so I'll say until then," Uncle Andy answers.
"Great, I'm stuck in an awesome hotel, but I can't do anything," I whine.
"You probably don't want to do anything. Besides, you've got us four dudes taking caring of you," Uncle Pete says, rubbing my side.
I laugh, "Yes, I have that. It's like we all live together in an apartment."
"But, we don't. Our house is much nicer," Dad says.
"I know," I say, "But still. It would be kind of cool if we all lived together."
"Ehhhh," Uncle Joe says, sounding not quite certain.
"What?" I question.
"I think we get enough of each other over tour life. We don't need to live together," Uncle Joe says.
"I can kind of get that," I say.
"So, I feel like we need to go shopping," Daddy says, changing the subject.
"What?" I ask.
"This hotel has no food. We need to food. Also, you are going to run out of tissues soon," Daddy says.
"Care to get me some other things, too?" I ask.
"Yeah, sure. What?" He asks.
"Well, you ruined some of my makeup, and I'm running out of other makeup, too," I say. All the guys laugh. "What?" I question.
"You and your makeup. Even when you are sick, you insist on wearing it," Uncle Pete laughs.
"I like trying to look presentable. Excuse me," I sass, but not very well, because I had to sit up to blow my nose immediately after. After I am finished, I lay back down on Uncle Pete.
"So, let's all get ready and go grocery shopping," Dad orders.
"Wait. Who's going to stay with me?" I ask.
"I'll stay with you. I'm not a huge fan of shopping anyways," Uncle Joe says.
"Thanks," I smile.
"Now that is cleared up, let's get ready," Daddy says.
"Why are you so 'take charge' today, Patrick?" Uncle Andy asks.
"I don't want to be stuck in this hotel doing nothing for a week. Also, I'm really hungry," Daddy says.
"We are all hungry," Uncle Pete laughs.
"Well, almost all," I shrug.
"You will get your appetite back soon, hon," Uncle Andy says, rubbing my back.
"I know," I sigh.
"So, how many bathroom does this place have?" Uncle Pete asks.
"Two," Daddy answers.
"Okay, you and Andy can get clean. I'll wait until one of you get out, if that is okay for you," Uncle Pete tells Daddy, while rubbing my side. He was basically saying, "I have your sick child laying on me, so why don't you two get clean before me."
"Sounds good to me," Uncle Andy says. Then, him and Daddy leave.
Uncle Joe then replaces Uncle Andy's spot next to me, so I two people beside me once again.
"I don't feel good," I sniffle.
"I know, sweetheart. That is why we are getting you some soup and some other good food to make you feel a little better," Uncle Pete says.
"Thanks," I smile.
"It's no problem. Besides, I like grocery shopping," Uncle Pete says.
"No," Uncle Joe says sarcastically. "You like grocery shopping? Never would have thought that."
"Shut up, Joe," Uncle Pete laughs. His laugh made my ear tickle. I feel loved right here with his arm around me. I know he cares about me; I can just feel it. Sure, we aren't blood related, but right now it feels like it.
"Want to watch some TV, kiddo?" Uncle Joe asks.
"Yeah, sure," I say.
He finds the remote and starts flipping through the channels on the TV infront of us. He finds The Simpsons airing, so we start watching it. I almost fall asleep, but then I see Daddy open up the bathroom door. That means Uncle Pete has to leave now.
"I've got to get clean now, kiddo," he says, while getting up.
"Bye bye," I say.
"Come here, Fangirl," Uncle Joe says.
I then lean on his shoulder, and he puts his arm around me. I feel the same sort of love from him. Then, Daddy sits where Uncle Pete was.
"Are we going to do anything today?" I ask.
"We can if you want to," Uncle Joe says.
"Let's just see if anything comes to mind later," I say.
"Okay," he says. Then, we continue watching The Simpsons. Moments later, Uncle Andy comes out of the shower. He sits in the recliner next to us.
"I hope you get to feeling better," Daddy says.
"Me too," I sigh.
"Maybe that medicine will start kicking in," he says.
"Hopefully," I say, sniffling.
"Give it time," Uncle Andy says. "If you think healthy, you will eventually be healthy."
"Of course I will eventually be healthy. I'm taking medicine," I say.
"Not like that," Uncle Andy says. "It's all the mind. You can make yourself feel better. It's kind of like how in WWII, the doctors would give the injured sugar pills when they ran out of pain pills. The soldiers thought they were being given pain pills, so they started feeling better."
"Moral of the story: Sugar makes you feel better," Uncle Joe laughs.
"Don't even think about it," Daddy says, kind of glaring at Uncle Joe.
"I'm not going to give your kid a ton of sugar while you're gone. Calm down; there's no food here," Uncle Joe says.
"Still. I know you, Joe. You would find a way," Daddy says.
"Please, Patrick. I love this kiddo," he says, hugging me. "I'm going to babysit her good and take care of her nicely."
"I'm sure," Daddy laughs. "Don't try to get a ton of sweets, either," he laughs to me.
"Well, there goes my plans," I snap in defeat, sarcastically. Just because I'm sick doesn't mean I'm no longer sassy.
"Darn," Uncle Joe laughs.
"Hey, but I'm grocery shopping, too," Uncle Andy says. "I could hit you up with some Cosmic Brownies."
"Alright!" I say, happily.
"That is, if Lunchbox over here doesn't eat them all first," Uncle Andy says, motioning towards Daddy. I look at Daddy, and he is shaking his head in his hand.
"Lunchbox?" I laugh.
"Oh yeah! One of the first practices we had as a band, he brought a lunchbox. That was the only time he ever did it, too," Uncle Joe laughs.
"13 years later, and I'm still not living that down," Daddy lightly laughs.
Uncle Andy leans towards Daddy, puts his hand on his shoulder, and says, "And you never will." We all laugh.
"That's great," I laugh. "Why did you stop, Lunchbox?"
"That's Dad to you, and I figured if I never did it again, the horrid nickname would have gone away," he says.
"You know she is going to start calling you that now, right?" Uncle Joe laughs.
"Yeah," Daddy sighs, and I just laugh, then blow my nose.
Then, Uncle Pete comes out of the bathroom. Dang, he is quick.
"We've gotta go now," Uncle Andy says.
"Try feeling better, and be good for Joe," Daddy says, kissing my forehead.
"I don't feel good enough to misbehave," I say.
"Even if she were healthy, she'd be fine. Trust me," Uncle Joe says.
"I know. It's just the dad in me," Daddy says.
"Let's go, guys," Uncle Pete says from the door.
"I'm coming," Uncle Andy says.
"Bye, sweetheart," Daddy says.
"Bye, sweetie," Uncle Joe says in reply.
"Not you," Dad sasses.
"Bye, Daddy. Love you," I laugh.
"Love you, too, Kristina," Dad says, making my name very clear so Uncle Joe can't say anything smart.
They are walking out the door when Uncle Pete shouts, "Bye, guys!"
"Bye," Uncle Joe and I say back.
"So, come up with anything you want to do yet?" Uncle Joe asks after they shut the door.
"No," I say. "Can I look around?"
"I don't care," he laughs.
I get up and start exploring. The living room is very large. It has four doors lined up on one side. They lead to three small bedrooms and one bathroom. In the middle of the doors is a flat screen TV. Directing facing the TV is the couch. Two recliners are facing the couch, but can be turned to face the TV. In the middle of the couch and recliners is a coffee table.
There is a wide entrance directly in front of the first two bedrooms. That entrance leads to a combined kitchen and dining room. In the corner of the kitchen, which would be behind the couch, is the other bathroom. I'm not really sure why they put a bathroom in the kitchen, but it's a really nice hotel suite. I then begin to laugh out of nowhere.
"What's so funny?" Uncle Joe asks from the couch. I walk into the living room laughing.
"The American Suitehearts are staying in a hotel suite," I laugh.
"It's not that funny," Uncle Joe says.
"But to Fangirl," I say, pointing to myself while speaking in third person, "that joke was pure gold."
"You really are sick aren't you," Uncle Joe says, full of concern.
"Yeah," I pout, plopping back down on the couch next to him.
"Oh, it's okay," he says, rubbing my side. "You'll feel better soon."
"I know, but I don't like being sick. I'm never sick over the summer! I don't understand," I sniff.
Uncle Joe passes me a tissue and says, "Well, the guy on the plane was blowing chunks next to you yesterday. That probably has something to do with it."
"Well, that bites! Must you travel when you are sick? Must you?" I say, then blow into the tissue.
"I know, but perhaps he had to get back home to his family for something important," Uncle Joe says.
"Yeah, I guess," I say.
"Come on, kiddo," Uncle Joe says. "Let's get you back to sleep."
"Okay," I say.
He walks me into my room, and I crawl into bed. He tucks me in and kisses me on my forehead.
"Sleep well, kiddo," He says. I smile back at him, and he shuts the door behind him. Before I know it, I am asleep once again.
(Patrick's POV)
It is currently one o'clock, and Pete is making a fool of himself in the grocery store.
As soon as we walked in, he found a cart, and jumped in it. He had me push the cart at first, but I refused to actually run in a public place. Then again, no grown man should. Andy, however, is not your normal grown man, so he runs with Pete in the cart. It is the stupidest thing I have seen in a while.
Though they are acting like three-year-olds, it is kind of fun. Pete has always liked grocery shopping, so when he isn't flying by aisles, he is picking out things we would all probably like. Andy is grabbing some things as well. I, on the other hand, am worried about Kristina.
I don't know what she likes to eat when she is sick. I don't know anything about what she likes when she is sick because she has never been sick with me before. Not only that, but I left poor Joe with her. He has to look after my kid while I shop. I'm still confused as to why I didn't stay with her.
Anyways, currently in our cart is soup, sandwich fixings, frozen pizzas, chips, cookies, brownies, soda cans, and tea bottles.
"I think we have all of the groceries," Andy says.
"As much as I hate to say it, I do, too," Pete says.
"Do you want to stay in the cart while we look in the health section?" I ask.
"No, I'll get out," he says. I hold the cart for him, and he jumps out.
"That brought back memories from my childhood," he smiles.
"More like a couple months ago," Andy laughs.
Pete dismisses the comment and starts walking towards the health section. We go over there to get Kristina's makeup, tissues, and some more over the counter medicine. I grab the tissues and medicine rather quick like, but once I get to the makeup, I am completely confused.
"There are so many things," I say.
"She wants eyeliner, right?" Pete asks.
"Yeah, and that cover up stuff I ruined," I say, "But which one?"
All three of us stare at the aisle trying to figure out what to get.
"Forget it," I'm calling her.
(Kristina's POV)
I wake up from my nap, and still feel terrible unfortunately. Then, I get the feeling and run into the bathroom to puke my guts out again. I feel a hand start rubbing my back. This is going to be an every time thing, isn't it? When I finish, I look up and notice it is Uncle Joe.
"Where's Daddy?" I ask.
"He went grocery shopping, remember?" He answers.
"Oh, yeah. That nap really knocked me out," I say, rubbing my head.
"It's okay. Want to go to the living room or back to bed?" He asks.
"I'll go back to the living room," I say. We both walk in, and I sit on the couch.
As soon as I do, I hear my phone going off.
"Can you get that?" I ask. "It's on the table in my room." Uncle Joe kind of runs in my room and answers the phone.
"Hello?" I hear him asks. After a moment he says, "Yeah, she is in the living room." After another moment, "Yeah, here she is." Then, he hands me my phone.
"Hello?" I ask.
"Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?" It's Daddy.
"I'm okay, I guess," I say.
"That's good," he says. "I've got a couple of questions."
"Yes?" I ask.
"I'm at the store, and I am looking for your make-up," he starts. He gets cut off by my laughing. "What?"
"I can just picture standing in front of the make-up staring guilelessly at it all," I laugh. That also gets a laugh from Uncle Joe.
"You are not wrong," Daddy laughs.
"Okay. Look for Maybelline. Did you find it?" I ask.
"Yes," he answers.
"Find some black mechanical eyeliner. Not the stuff that looks like a pencil you write with," I direct.
"Is it called onyx?" He asks.
"Yes," I say.
"Okay," Dad starts. "For the cover-up stuff?"
"Look for Covergirl. Look for the things that are skin colored and are triangle containers. Get the third palest one for sensitive skin," I say.
"Got it," he says.
"Way to go, Patrick!" I hear Uncle Andy say in the background, but I don't laugh loud enough for Dad to notice.
"Okay, sweetheart, there is something next to the make-up that made me think of something," Daddy says.
"What?" I question.
"Do you need any, you know, um, feminine things?" He asks. I can feel my face flush bright red. I don't want to talk about that with my dad.
"Geez, Rick, way to make things awkward," I hear Uncle Pete say. I can practically see them blushing as well.
"No, um, I packed enough for tour," I say.
"Okay, sorry, sweetie," he says.
"It's fine," I say, trying desperately to not sound embarrassed.
"Well, that's it. We should be back in about 30 minutes, okay?" Daddy says.
"Okay! Bye, Daddy," I say.
"Bye, sweetheart. See you in a minute," he says. Then, I hang up.
"What's the red face about?" Uncle Joe asks.
"Nothing. Dad asked a personal question after the make-up questions," I answer.
"Oh. Sorry, kiddo," he says.
"It's okay," I sniff. "They said they will be back in 30 minutes."
"Awesome! They are bringing food! I am starving!" He exclaims.
"You are always hungry," I laugh.
"That is besides the point," he says, offended.
"What should we do until then?" I ask.
"What do you feel like doing?" He asks.
"Want to play some games?" I ask.
"Heck yeah!" He exclaims. Then, he goes in his room and brings back his MacBook. "Let's play!"
"What two player games do you have?" I ask.
"Well, I have checkers," he says.
"Let's play," I laugh.
After playing and winning two games and currently winning the third game, Daddy, Uncle Andy, and Uncle Pete come back. All of their arms are filled with grocery bags. Uncle Joe got up to help them.
"Don't cheat while I am gone," he orders.
"Okay," I laugh. "There is no need to cheat."
As the guys are putting things in the kitchen, Dad asks, "Still feeling well?"
"I'm not well, but I'm not as bad. I don't think. I hope," I say.
"Is she still running a fever?" Dad asks, Uncle Joe.
"I don't think she is. It went down a lot while she was sleeping," Uncle Joe answers. Wait, he checked my temperature while I was asleep?
"So, anybody hungry?" Uncle Pete asks.
"Heck, yeah! Let's get some food cooking," Uncle Joe says.
"Soup for you, kiddo," Uncle Andy says.
"I figured," I pout.
"Sorry, but it is best for you," Uncle Andy says.
"I want something quick, so how about pizza?" Uncle Pete asks.
"Sounds good to me," Daddy says.
Uncle Pete puts the pizza in the stove, and Daddy starts heating up my soup, so I make my way to the kitchen. I did not like being the only on in the living room.
"Hey, sweetheart," Daddy says, side hugging me as I approach him. He kisses my forehead. "You don't feel as warm."
"That's good," I say.
Once Dad finishes the soup, he sits it and a spoon on the table. Meanwhile, I look through the cabinets for some tea. Unfortunately, the guys must not have bought any, so I go to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of green tea. I go to the table and start eating my soup. It's disgusting, but Uncle Andy insisted that I eat it.
Right when I am finishing eating, Daddy comes by and sits next to me. I push my bowl away.
"Why did you do that?" Dad asks.
"All the noodles are gone," I say. That is basically the only thing I am willing to eat out of a bowl of soup.
"Drink the broth, okay?" Dad says.
"Why?" I question.
"It is good for you," Daddy says.
"But, I don't like it," I whine.
"But it is good for you," Dad says, tempting to glare at me, but then he weakly smiles. "Just drink it, okay?"
"Okay," I sigh. I pick up the bowl and start to drink it.
"Chug. Chug. Chug. Chug," I hear Uncle Joe chanting. I start to laugh and spit out some of the broth by accident.
"Don't make me laugh when I am drinking," I laugh, whipping my chin.
"I had to, kiddo," he laughs. Then, I continue to drink my disgusting broth. Soon it is gone, and Dad pats me on the back and get up to put the bowl and spoon in the sink. As he does this, my uncles sit at the table with me. Uncle Joe carrying drinks, Uncle Andy carrying plates, and Uncle Pete carrying the pizza, of course. In a very quick motion, they everything on the table, pass it out, and each begin eatting their first piece of pizza. Dad then joins them, sitting in his spot next to me.
"You guys are mean," I pout.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Uncle Pete says.
"You guys are eating pizza in front of me, and you are making me eat soup," I complain.
"We give you terrible things because they make you feel better," Uncle Andy says. I just stick my tongue out at him.
Soon, they finish the pizza, and I am so glad they finished quickly because it was very torturing. We sit and talk for a while, but I listen more than talk. I don't know much about the history of Italy. During the conversation, Dad gets this really weird look on his face like he just saw a ghost.
"You okay there, man?" Uncle Joe asks.
"Uh-oh," Daddy says. He runs into the bathroom. Then, he too gets sick.
"Oops," I say.
~Two Days Later~
I started throwing up on Saturday at 2 in the morning. Now, on Monday at 11:30 in the morning, everybody is sick but Uncle Andy. I passed it on to Daddy, whom passed it on to Uncle Pete because they were in the same bed. Uncle Pete passed it on to Uncle Joe because he accidently took a drink of his coffee.
So, we are all sitting on the couch in the hotel's robes. We have tissues surrounding us and our red noses, and we are all holding some flu tea remedy Uncle Andy made for us. He is our mom, basically. He is the only healthy one, and to top it off, he is wearing an apron.
The four of us are very unsightly. Escpically sense we throw up all the time. However, Uncle Andy is very kind to all of us. He makes us tea and gives us ice packs when we need them. He was the one who asked room service for more robes.
"Does everybody have plenty of tea?" Uncle Andy asks.
"Yeah," we all say.
"Okay, well, I am going to go to the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for a new recipe a friend of mine told me about. I also need to get some more medicine for you guys. Yes, I know you have medicine, Kristina, but we need a lot more for the guys. I'll be back in a little while," Uncle Andy explains.
"What are you making?" Uncle Joe asks.
"If I tell you, you won't eat it," Uncle Andy answers.
"That's comforting," Uncle Pete says, making Uncle Andy laugh.
"Bye, Uncle Andy," I say.
"Bye, kiddo," he smiles and walks out the door.
"On that note, I am going back to bed," Uncle Pete says.
"Same," Uncle Joe yawns.
"We will wake you up when the food is done, if you aren't up by then," Daddy says.
"Thanks," Uncle Pete says. Then, they both shut their bedroom doors.
"Now what?" I question.
"Want to see if a movie is on TV?" Dad asks.
"Sure," I say. With that, Dad picks up the remote and turns on the TV. Sure enough, The Hunger Games is on, so we watch it. Neither one of us are big on violence, but we watch it despite that because nothing else was on. Half way through the movie, Dad got up to throw up. Gosh, I hate that sound. He walks out of the bathroom looking terrible, but then again, we all look terrible today except for Uncle Andy.
I feel bad for him and the other two. I didn't mean to get them sick. I honestly didn't know they got sick like this. I mean, I never heard them say anything about getting sick on Twitter in the past. Then again, that is probably not something you willingly post on social media. I just hope they are all better by Friday. I would feel even worse if they go out on stage and have to leave mid song so they don't get sick on stage.
I dismiss the thought and blow my nose. The flu sucks. I am ready to feel better.
After the movie is over, Dad gets out his phone.
"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to start a conversation.
"I was going to call Mama," he says. She is not your mom; her name is Elisa.
"Okay! I want to talk to her, too," I say, instead of the thought I just had.
He dials the phone, and they start talking.
"Can you put her on speaker?" I ask.
"I'm going to put you on speaker, okay?" Dad says into the phone.
As soon as he does, I say as loud as I can, "Hi, Mama!"
"Hey, sweetheart," she says, happily. "You both sound sick. Are you okay?"
"Some guy on the plane gave us the flu," I say.
"I'm sorry. Are you guys feeling any better?" Mom asks.
"A little. We were the first to sick, so we have the most medicine in us," I say. "Uncle Andy has been taking care of the four of us."
"That's great," Mama laughs.
"Tell me about it. He gives us tea all the time!" Daddy exclaims.
"Awesome!" Mom laughs.
"What have you been doing?" I ask.
"Oh, I've done some cleaning around the house. I've been hanging out with the girls a lot, too. We've been shopping and to the movies a couple times," she says.
"Have you gone to see The Fault in Our Stars?" I ask.
"Yes! I loved it!" She exclaims.
"Same! That movie was so sad," I say.
"It wasn't that sad," Dad says.
"Shut up, Patrick! That was a really sad movie," Mom says.
I just laugh.
"Yes, ma'am," Dad says, and then laughs.
"You cried in that movie! Don't lie," I say.
"I did not," Dad says. He sounds very convincing, but he is shaking his head violently as if to say, "Don't say anything!"
"Don't listen to him, Mama. I saw him crying," I say. Mom starts laughing, and Dad is giving me a death glare.
"I told you not to tell her!" He yells, the best to his ability. Mom is still laughing. "Oh, come on! They were soul mates! It wasn't meant to end that way!" This causes Mama to laugh harder and for me to laugh as well.
"I can't breathe!" Mom laughs. "I love you so much, honey."
"I love you, too," Dad says, kind of annoyed and kind of slyly.
"Oh, man," I laugh. "Anything exciting happen lately?"
"Not that I can think of. No, wait! Three girls recognized us at a restaurant we were eating at, so we took a couple pictures with them," Mom says.
"That's awesome!" I smile, but my smile quickly fades. "Uh-oh."
"Hey, sweetheart, I'm going to let you go. Kristina is fixing to get sick again," I hear Dad says as I run into the bathroom.
"Bye, babe. I love you," I somehow manage to hear Mom say.
"I love you, too, beautiful," I hear Dad say, quite clearly. Turns out, he is right behind me. He puts his phone in his pocket, and he says to me while rubbing my back, "It's okay, sweetheart. We can call her again when we are well again."
After I finish my business, we sit back on the couch. Then, Uncle Andy walks in.
"Hey, guys," he says.
"Hey, Andy," Dad says.
"Where are Pete and Joe?" He asks.
"Sleeping. They both decided to take a nap," Dad says.
"How are you feeling, Kris? You are awful quiet," Uncle Andy asks.
"She just threw up," Dad answers for me. I'm glad, too. After what just happened, I was not in the mood for talking. That time it really hurt.
"Well, hopefully this will make you feel better," Uncle Andy says, holding up the grocery bags.
He walks into the kitchen and unpacks the ingredients for whatever it is he is making. He sits the medicine and tissues on the dining table out of his way and begins cooking.
"What are you making?" Dad asks.
"Again, if I tell you, you wouldn't eat it," Uncle Andy answers.
"Okay," Dad says, and rolls his eyes.
That is when I decide to speak up.
"Oh, so you can roll your eyes, but I can't?" I ask.
"Exactly," Dad says.
I cross my arms and pout, "Why?"
"I'm going to sound like such a dad when I say this, but I'm the parent, and I do what I want. You are the child, and you do as I say," he says. I gasp at his remark.
"Are you kidding me right now?" I ask.
"Yeah," he laughs. "I honestly didn't mean to roll my eyes, and I apologize."
"Whatever," I say as sassily as I can. Then, I roll my eyes. After all, this is the perfect occasion to do so.
"You little," Dad laughs. Hey! I didn't get glared at this time!
"Hey, how long is that food going to take? I'm hungry," I say.
"I'm just starting, so it should be done in an hour," Uncle Andy answers. I look at the clock, and it says 12:45. I cannot wait for the food. I don't care what it is. I am hungry.
I get up and start to walk to my room.
"Where are you going?" Daddy asks.
"I'm going to get my iPod so I can play games until the food is done," I answer.
"You can play on my phone if you want to," Daddy gestures.
"Okay," I shrug and walk back to the couch. He has better games on his phone anyways.
He unlocks his phone and hands it to me. Rather than playing games, I go through his Instagram feed. Nothing very interesting is posted here. He follows boring adults who don't really know how to use Instagram. Occasionally, I would see a funny picture that Uncle Brendon or Uncle Pete posted, but other than that, his Instagram was quite boring.
Then, I go through his Twitter, and the same thing happened. After a total of ten minutes playing on his phone, I decide to go though his camera roll.
I see a bunch of pictures of Mom and I. There are also some of places we have been, too. As I scroll up, I see a couple of things I don't enjoy. Pictures of my family with Laura. I am really curious as to why he hasn't deleted these pictures, but I decide not to press the issue.
All of the stories I hear about Laura are ones that make Dad upset. They didn't get along, and Daddy really claimed to have not liked her. He claimed that Laura was a depressed child that hated Mama and Daddy and everyone else. However, in all the pictures I am seeing, they are smiling. It really broke my heart. It probably shouldn't have, but I feel like I have been lied to.
I'd like to think the reason he hasn't deleted these is because he forgot they were there. I'd like to think the reason they are smiling is because they are in front of camera. But is that the case? I don't know. Perhaps they are just smiling because they assumed that is what families do.
I really don't want to look at this anymore or even think about it, so I decide to start playing a game on his phone.
(Patrick's POV)
From where I am sitting, I cannot tell what Kristina is looking at on my phone, but she looks really disappointed. She is probably just reading a sad story on my Kindle App, but what if something is really the matter?
Right now, we both feel bad physically, so I really don't want to bother her about this right now. When we are well again, I think I will ask her. Honestly, it is worrying me.
"Okay, everybody! Lunch is served!" Andy exclaims from the kitchen.
I get up and knock on Pete and Joe's door and say as loud as I can, "The food is ready."
As Kristina and I walk into the kitchen, she hands me my phone back. I hear two doors open behind me, and I realize that I was loud enough to wake the both of them up.
All of the plates on the table. Andy removed the medicine from the center of the table and placed it on the counter in the kitchen. The food looks kind of good, but I am still uncertain as to what it is.
"Will you tell us what this is now?" Pete asks.
"Not until you all take one bite," Andy explains.
With that, we all take one bite. Needless to say, all of our faces said we did not like what we were given.
"Okay. What is this flavored rubber?" Joe ask.
"It is called orange ginger baked tofu," Andy says.
"Tofu?!" Kristina exclaims. "No wonder why it is so chewy!"
All four of us then spit our bite of food into our napkin.
"Come on, guys!" Andy exclaims. "I am sure it good!"
Andy then sits down and begins eating the food. After about three bites, he gets up and runs full speed to the bathroom.
"What happened to the food being good?" Pete yells after him. Then, Andy too throws up.
The boy on the plane has succesfully given four grown men and a teenage girl the flu.