Saving Evan

Chapter 8

Robin's P.O.V.
I started eating my casserole, then mumbled, "This is really good. Mrs. Grim outdid herself for this one." My dad nodded. Mrs. Grim was our next door neighbor who had decided my dad and I couldn't live on microwaved and packaged foods. Once a week, she would come over with dinners for six days. We would put them in the freezer and warm them up when needed. For lunch, I just bought it in the school cafeteria, and at home we always had some kind of breakfast food.

My dad wiped his mouth around his mustache, and cleared his throat. "Would you like to visit your mom's grave after dinner?"

I nodded. My dad continued eating, and I sat back to sip my water. "Dad? Can bulimia be fatal?" He looked up.

"Why do you ask?"

I thought of Evan, and wondered if I should tell my dad. "No reason. So, is it, dad?"

"Well, it could be chronic, which mean it could go on for years, or for the rest of a person's life. Do you know someone who has it?" He had finished his casserole, and I could see concern in his brown eyes. I battled in my head whether I should tell him about Evan or not.

"Robin?" His voice was soft, edged with worry. I blinked. I had been fighting a battle in my head, I didn't want to be bothered. I pushed back my plate to rest my elbows on the table.

"Yes. I do." There went Evan's trust in me. I'd have to tell him I told my dad. He would probably find out about it sooner or later. My dad sighed, and got up to take my plate and his to the sink.

"So, how bad does this person have it?" He turned on the sink and started washing. I got up and placed our cups in the hot water.

"He has it really bad. He's going to hurt himself, and I don't want to see that happen. He's become a good friend to me over the past few months of school."

My dad raised an eyebrow. "A boy?"

I laughed.

"Dad! It's not like that!" I sobered. "He really needs help, dad. He does it after every meal. I know because I looked up bulimia, and all the warnings matched E...him." I sighed heavily. I had almost given away Evan. My dad finished the dishes, and as the sink drained he stared out the window in thought, the hills outside reflecting in his glasses. My dad had changed slightly after my mom's death.

When he had graduated high school, he had plans to become a nurse. After mom died, he went back to college and got his degree in medicine, and is currently a doctor. My mom, Esther Halls, was the best mom any one could have asked for. Even though I had raven colored hair, my mom was a dusty brown. Her eyes were an off-blue, with more gray in them. She was small, like me, and was very friendly. I remembered her slightly, like a summer wind, which was sad. When she had died, I was eight years old. She had been trying to have children for three years, and finally had me. My mom wanted another, but developed pre-eclampsia during her pregnancy and died.

Later, when we went to the cemetery, I thought I saw a figure running behind stores across the tombstones. It was too dark to see who it was, so I couldn't guess at who it could be. We were driving home, when I saw a boy, probably in high school, running at a leisure pace down the sidewalk. All of a quick sudden, he tripped over some tree roots that had cracked through the concrete. He didn't get up. I then realized who it was; only Evan ran like that. 

"Dad! Stop! That's Evan!" I pointed frantically out the window. My dad shook his head.

"You can hardly see anyone in this weather! It's pouring!" He drove on, and we passed Evan. I tugged on my dad's arm.

"Dad, please stop! I'm sure I saw someone!" I looked at him, my eyes pleading. "Please, dad."

My dad slowed down and stopped, next to the curb. "I hope we're not going home for no reason, Robin." I hunched over in the pounding rain and ran down the sidewalk to Evan.

It was hard to see in the driving rain, my dad was having more trouble because of his glasses. I finally reached Evan, who was huddled in a ball. His clothes were plastered to his body from the rain, and he wasn't moving.

"Dad! Over here!" I had to yell over the thunder. My dad came up beside me, took one look at Evan, and said, "I'll go get the car." I watched him disappear in the rain, and then shook Evan's shoulder.

"Evan? Can you hear me? Evan?" I saw his eyes flutter open like a pair of green butterflies.

"So...c-cold..." his teeth chattered. My dad soon had driven up beside us and helped me lift Evan in the back of the car. My dad wrapped him in the quilt we always kept in the back of the car. Evan still shivered, his lips turning a light blue.

Dad drove to our house, and parked the car in the garage. He picked up Evan and carried him into our living room. I followed, dripping wet.

"We don't have an extra bed...do we?" My dad set Evan down on the couch, and wiped his glasses off.

I thought a minute. "The couch in my studio can pull out into a bed. I think that's the only place. Or we could just leave him on the couch." My dad nodded.

"You cannot have a boy sleeping in your studio, and the paint and thread particles in the air would probably bother him."

I nodded. My dad then grabbed his medicine bag from the coat closet and pulled out his stethescope. He wrapped the quilt from Evan and checked his heart and lungs. He nodded in approval, and placed the instrument back in his bag.

He then inspected Evan's knee, which looked painfully twisted. When he touched it, Evan winced.

I went into the kitchen to make a small lot of tea. It would be helpful for Evan, and would warm us all up. I came back into the room with cups, and went back for the tea.

My dad was checking Evan's temperature. I watched as he frowned, and went from the use of the thermometer to placing his palm on Evan's forehead. He frowned still deeper, his eyebrows meeting above his nose.

"Come here a minute, Robin."

I walked over, and this green eyes watched me, fear hidden among the shadows.

"Feel his forehead. Isn't that too low?" my dad dug around in his bag as I placed my hand against the cold forehead. Evan was still alive and breathing, but with that body heat?

"Here we go. Antibiotics should help with this. I think it might be the beginning of a fever from being in the rain too long." my dad handed Evan a small white pill and a cup of tea. "Swallow that, and we'll go from there."

Evan gagged at first, but swallowed, and set the cup of tea shakily on the coffee table. I sat down on the floor and began sipping my drink. My dad sat down next to Evan, who had leaned his head on the back of the couch, his eyes closed. His breathing was shallow.

My dad stirred in some cream and sat back to drink his tea. "So, this is Evan?" His voice was lowered so that Evan could rest.

I nodded, wrapping my hands around the mug. My dad stared out the window and nodded. "Is he the one with the bulimia?" I looked over at Evan quickly to make sure he was really asleep.

"Yes. How did you know?"

My dad shrugged. "It's not rocket science. When I checked his bloodsugar levels, they weren't exactly what they needed to be, and when I checked his throat, it was swollen and red. To make sure, I asked him a question, and when he answered, his voice was rougher than it should be."

I nodded. How was I going to tell Evan that my dad knew? I looked over at Evan, who was still asleep. Color was coming back in his cheeks, a little to quickly for my liking. I then realized that we had no way of contacting Evan's sister or dad.
~1426 words! Hooray! Sorry I haven't been leaving author's notes. Please comment to tell me if you want me to keep doing A/Ns or not. Anyway, please leave a vote! God bless you guys!
~XCountrylover