Blame Gravity

Chapter 21

I am feeling terribly unwell today. My head hurts, I have a sore throat, and I can't stop coughing. 

I can't concentrate while studying, and I have three quizzes tomorrow. I try my best, though. Not only the physical pain distracts me, but I also can't stop thinking about James and Mike. Should I tell Mike? He might not forgive me. Then again, he's way too nice for me, anyway. I really, really like him, but if he doesn't want me, that's perfectly understandable.

Monday is terrible. I mess up my drawing at Art, and I feel like screaming, but I decide not to.

P.E. is awful. 

I can't concentrate on Maths, and I see James shooting confused glances at me when I don't put my hand up in class like usual. My head hurts like shit, and all I can concentrate on is the piercing pain. 

After class, James comes up to my locker. I sigh, rubbing my head. I'm really not in the mood for this right now.

"You okay, Canmore? You seem even slower than usual."

I smile at him spitefully and put my books in my locker. "I'm fine." I accidentally drop my books. "Fuck," I whisper as I lean down to grab them. He immediately crouches down to help, and our hands touch. What kind of fucking early 2000s coming-of-age nerd romance movie is this?!

He clears his throat and gives me back the books. 

"Thanks," I mutter.

"No problem," he mumbles.

We stand up, stay silent for a while, and it's incredibly awkward. I flinch as another sharp ache pierces my head.

"Are you sure you're fine?" he asks.

"Yes, Miller. I'm sure."

He just kind of nods. "You know, if you're sick, or something, you should go home... you don't want to overwork yourself, it's very unhealthy-"

"Can you shut up?" I say, slightly raising my voice. "Your rambling is not helping my headache."

He nods, does an awkward little wave with an ingenuine smile, and leaves quickly. As he's walking away, I notice how he's muttering something to himself, and I kind of get the impression he's cussing himself out. I frown, but I decide to ignore it. At least he's gone. 

Finally, he's gone.

I grab my books for French and run to Layla. We walk to class, and she notices I'm unwell, as well.

"You okay?" she asks.

"Yes, I'm fine. Damn it, why does everyone keep asking that?" 

"Well, you certainly don't look fine," she says, and when I turn toward her, offended, she starts apologizing frantically. "No, offense, just... y'know what I mean."

"I do." I look away. "But I'm fine. I swear." 

She nods, unsure, and we finally arrive at the classroom. 

French is a sea of agony and pain, as always, but somehow it's even less pleasant with a drill piercing your head and stomach, while simultaneously not being able to breathe because your nose is stuffed.

Ms. Arquette calls on me for the fifth time by the time I notice, and she seems incredibly pissed. I sigh and quickly answer her question. 

"Are you feeling unwell, Miss Canmore?" she asks in her shrill voice.

"Why would you think that?" I say, growing more and more annoyed with her. I am going to start throwing insults if she doesn't stop.

"You look terrible."