Remind Me

★ 10: Remind Me When I Skipped School ★

Chapter Ten

Remind Me When I Skipped School

November 28

The day before Thanksgiving, I wake up with sore breasts. Again. There's this unexplainable tingling—prickling—sensation there, and it's not a good feeling at all. To add to that, my back aches.

I sit up, and that's when the nausea rolls in. It overwhelms my system, and the need to vomit overrides everything else on my mind. I throw back my covers and make a mad dash for the restroom. I don't even have time to shut the door before I heave up everything in my stomach.

"Everything all right in here?" dad asks, coming into the restroom. He's got a mug of coffee in his hands. I whimper. I hate throwing up. I've hate it since I was a kid, only difference is that I can stifle the crying now.

I flush the toilet, and my head collapses on the toilet seat. I still want to puke.

Dad crouches down beside me. His coffee has never smelled more revolting until now. "Dad," I moan, weakly waving him off. "Take that out of here."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Dad gets up. "Do you need to stay home? You don't look too well."

"I'm fine. I'll manage." Dad leaves.

Doesn't mean you still can't get pregnant from it. Ever thought of that? Maya's words from yesterday bounce inside my head like a tennis ball. My hands fly to my stomach. I can't be pregnant. I absolutely could not be. I am on birth control. The pill said it had a low failure rate. What are the odds I'd be part of that five percent?

I shakily get to my feet. After having brushed my teeth, I go downstairs to join my dad for breakfast. I am in no mood to dress up today, so all I have on are some skinny jeans and an oversized gray sweater. Ugly, but comfy.

"Doing better?" dad wonders, as I pull up a chair beside him.

"Yeah," I murmur. My stomach growls.

Dad chuckles. "There's oatmeal on the counter. I figured you needed something to eat after having thrown everything up."

"Thanks." I grab the oatmeal off the counter and munch on it.

"Better dress warmly today; it's going to be a chilly one."

I gesture to my ensemble. "Already prepared."

"Just wanted to make sure."

Damn, I didn't know how hungry I was until now. I finish my oatmeal in record time, then I eat a banana. Afterwards, before I leave to catch the "bus," I grab a granola bar. "See you tonight," I say, fitting my shoulders into the straps of my backpack. I pull on my favorite gray Uggs before exiting the house. I look like a fashion disaster today. I didn't even bother to do my makeup.

I look over my shoulder to check and make sure my dad's not following me—or spying on me through the windows. When he's not, I sprint down to where Watson's waiting for me, like every morning.

"Whoa," he says, when I get into the front seat.

"What?" I say, my voice sounding rasp.

"You look...different."

"In a good way or a bad way?" I narrow my eyes at him.

He scrutinizes me. "You look tired."

I sigh. "I feel tired. And what's weird is that I got eight hours of sleep last night. Probably more than that. I finished all my work early. I even got five out of the six application essays done for FIT."