Butterflies

Chapter 13

"Hey, Julia," Angelica's voice echoed through my phone speakers. "How're you feeling now?"

"I'm better, thanks."
A big lie.

"I'm sorry about the email," Angelica said softly.

"Hey... don't be. It's just random BS."

"So... why don't you want your mom to know about the email?" A cracking sound came from her end.

"What are you doing?" I quickly changed the subject.

"Oh! I'm grabbing chips. Caleb's coming over for a movie night. Honestly, I deserve a trophy for putting up with him and being an amazing girlfriend. I mean, we always have great dates—when I plan them, at least."

"Yes, yes, you do. So, what movie are you watching?"

"I know it's really cliché, but... hold on a minute! Julia, did you just change the topic?" Her voice sharpened with mock outrage.

"Who? Me? Of course not," I said as playfully as I could. "I just asked, and you replied."

"You are some piece of work," she groaned loudly. "Now be serious. Why don't you want her to know?"

"Because I don't believe it," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended. "It's just some stupid prank that I couldn't care less about."
I hoped I sounded confident, even as panic gnawed at me every time I replayed the moment Caleb showed me that email.

"Okay, if you don't believe it, fine. But it wouldn't hurt to get clarity from your mom. I'm sure once you ask, she'll feel compelled to tell you."

She was trying not to push me too far—I could tell. But at this point, I didn't think anyone could help, except maybe with a giant tub of gummy bears.

"I just don't wanna talk about the email right now. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I need to get my notes filled. Night."
Without waiting for a response, I tapped the red button.

I grabbed my biochem notes and tablet, logged into the school portal, and started an e-lesson. Two hours later, I still didn't understand a thing. It didn't help that the topic was Biomolecules—something I never seemed to grasp. A defeated sigh escaped me as tears began to slide down my cheeks, followed by a frustrated groan.

"Why am I crying?" I yelled at myself, furiously wiping my face. But the tears wouldn't stop.
Three minutes later, I was full-on sobbing. My head throbbed with each sharp gasp until the headache became unbearable. After several deep breaths, I gulped down an Advil.

**************

"Hey, Crossfield!"
A group of dumb jocks jeered as I walked down the hallway. This week seemed to get worse every single day.

I'd woken up with a sore throat and a headache that felt like a train running through my skull. I slipped in the shower—not enough to hurt myself, but after walking through the halls of Sherwood I wish it was. My mom had ignored my calls and left before I even woke up. Breakfast? Nope. The milk was bad, and the cereal box was practically empty. Then Angelica dropped the final bomb: she wouldn't be picking me up because she had to go to D.C. for reasons unknown.

By the time I walked into Sherwood High, I was ready to declare the day over.

"Hey!"
Caleb appeared beside my locker.