Opposites Attract

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Annabelle

I hear a car pull up, and then hear, "Annabelle! I'm here!" It's Mom.

"I'm cold." I shiver to prove my point, "And wet." To prove my point again, I wring the end of my t-shirt out, "And annoyed at you for coming home late."

"I'm sorry!" She looks at me as she puts the key in the lock.

"I'm cold. I get three hot chocolates." 

"Taking advantage of this, aren't we?"

"Nope." I say, and go into the kitchen to start frothing milk. It is nice to be near something warm, because the last couple hours had been just miserable, cold, and wet.

I finish making hot chocolate and take a nice, long sip. Then I yelp because I burned my tongue.

Then I sigh in with contentment, run upstairs to put a huge fluffy bathrobe on, and pull my favorite book off the shelf. I settle down in bed after cranking the heat all the way up and smile. This is better than the porch.

* * *

"Annabelle!" Mom yells, "ANABELLE!!" I choose to ignore her yelling at the moment, and continue frothing the milk for my fourth hot chocolate of the night. I'm really craving more and more and more and more and more and more chocolate stuff. "ANABELLE IF YOU DO NOT STOP THAT RIGHT NOW I AM NOT GIVING YOU ALLOWANCE FOR A YEAR AND YOU WILL NOT BE ALLOWED ON YOUR COMPUTER FOR TWO WEEKS! I WILL ALSO TAKE YOUR PHONE CHARGER SO YOU WILL ONLY HAVE A DEAD PHONE FOR A MONTH!" This time, I look up from frothing and turn of the machine.

"What?" I ask her sweetly.

"You need to stop with the hot chocolate, you're going to be sick."

"I think I am already..." I inform her, "What more harm can this do?"

"Annabelle, it's not a good idea to do that if you feel sick." She walks up the stairs and returns in a moment with a thermometer. I put it in my mouth. 102.4. That's not good.

Suddenly I feel really sick as I take a sip of the warm milk (it's overflowing, so I need to drink some of it before it goes all over the counter). I have a death grip on the mug as my hand starts to shake, and my sticky, sweaty fingers take a moment to loosen. As soon as I can pry my hand off the quite warm surface of the mug, I put it down on the counter. Except it's more than just putting it down on the counter, and as I practically slammed it down, the milk has now spilled everywhere.

I run into the bathroom, which makes me have to run all the way up the stairs. My mom follows me closely, grabbing a towel on our way in. I lean over the toilet, hurriedly pull my hair out of range of vomit, and then I feel the all-too familiar sensation of my stomach turning itself inside-out, and the contents ending up in the toilet. My mom passes me the towel. Ewww... I feel disgusting and dirty and throw-up-y and nasty and still wet and cold and hot and NOT GOOD.

This is awful. Once I've finished throwing up, mom helps me into my bed. It's really bad. Mom gives me some medicine, and it kicks in soon. I still feel awful as I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable way to sleep, but I feel a bit better. I keep feeling like I'm burning up, so I throw all the covers off of me. Then, I feel like I'm stuck out on the porch again, and I'm freezing, so I have to pull all of the covers back on. But, somehow, miraculously, I manage to fall asleep, because the next time I open my eyes, there's sunlight streaming into my room.

I call out weakly, "Mooooom?" There's no answer, so I try again, "MOOOooooOOOM?"

"What? Annabelle, you're awake!"

"Yeah, I'm awake... What time is it?"

"Eleven thirty."

Wow, I slept a LONG time! I'm feeling a lot better now, though. I still feel awful-ish but it's a better version of awful-ish than it was before. Yay! Well, yay I guess...

"You need some more medicine, but you can't take it on an empty stomach. Do you want to try to eat something... oatmeal, cereal, chicken soup, a banana, yogurt, rice, toast... any of those sound good right now?"

"Toast?" I ask weakly, then lean back against the pillows again.

"Okay." Mom says, leaving the room. I don't know what happened, but somehow I fall asleep again, and find Mom shaking me awake again with a plate and some toast with jam on it.

Starving, I immediately reach for the toast and take a big bite. As I swallow, I start gagging. Mom looks at me in concern, and I spring up from my bed and run into the bathroom again. For the second time, I'm staring at my reflection in the toilet bowl right before I throw up in it. It's not pleasant.

I crawl back into bed miserably and refuse the toast. Mom eats it herself, which kind of grosses me out even though I never threw up on the actual toast. And, isn't that a bad idea? I mean, I'm sick, and she just ate something that I started eating... Whatever. I can't think complicated or even slightly complicated thoughts at the moment. So, I fall back to sleep.

* * *

When I wake up again, it's getting dark out again. I hate being sick. I moan and turn over, then hear my phone go off VEEEEERY loudly. Oooh! Yesssss! It's...