Through the Wringer

quinque

  I woke up in a cold sweat, tears streaked down my cheeks, already drying, leaving my face feeling tight. I must have passed out after time righted itself again.. I felt woozy, and before I knew it, the bile was rising in my throat, and I was throwing up all over myself. I pressed the little red alert button, and the nurse that had returned me to my bed when I got up and left my room- Alice, I remembered- was the one who came in while I was puking a second time.
"Oh, dear," she said. She picked me up out of my bed again, not caring about the puke, and brought me to the bathroom, sitting me gently on the floor by the toilet and allowing me to empty the contents of my stomach, patting my back and whispering to calm me down.
  I didn't know what had caused the puking spell at first. Nerves, stress- vertigo, maybe? It's still unknown, but while Alice and I were in the bathroom, a young woman wearing heels and a business woman's outfit came into my room carrying a briefcase. I heard her say "oh my gosh," and then Alice called to her.
   "In the bathroom, dear! Dalton got a bit sick, as you can see."
  "Okay, thank you!" I heard the woman call back. When I wasn't puking anymore, I whispered to Alice.
    "Who's she?"
   "She's your social worker. I believe her name is Candace. Since your family has.. passed.. she'll be, um.. Your honorary big sister? She'll make sure you're in a good foster home, maybe even find someone to adopt you."
Fuck that, I thought. I'd heard all about the foster system, and I sure as hell didn't want to be, nor had I ever dreamed of being in the system.. Though, I guess I don't get a say in that, do I? There's alot of things in life that you don't get a say in- your family, your appearance, your sexuality, your name. Whether people die or not, bullying. All things that can't be easily changed.. Mostly, anyways.
It had only been a couple seconds, and I guess my immediate tensing let Alice know that I didn't like that idea.