Light as a Feather, Cold as Marble

Chapter 16

Full consciousness came to me slowly, in waves. It was day, and sunlight surrounded me. The shapes of the pieces of furniture in my room were familiar but unidentifiable, and when I was awake enough to realize that I must be somewhere, my first suspicion was that I was in the old bedroom that I shared with Jennie at our house on the corner. Only as I tried to equate the bureau, posters, and shelves of my current room with the layout I remembered from my old room did it become clear that things didn't match up. I was somewhere else, there was only one bed, there was a desk with a corkboard covered in doodles and pictures of the beach in Florida hanging over it, and a shelf above that with archaic CD's on it. The present came rushing back to me in a flash, and all at once it hit me: I was sick. Very sick. I remembered climbing into bed after Trey had walked me to the front door. He had apologetically told my mother, "She's been running a fever."

Trey.

I sat straight up in my bed, feeling the familiar annoying twinge of the stiff neck I'd acquired on the train from Lake Forest to Kenosha from sleeping with my head on Trey's shoulder. How much time had passed since that train ride? A day? Two? Trey was either due back at his military school, or was already there, depending on how long I'd been out of it. Panic cut through the fog in my head. If I'd missed his departure, I'd never forgive myself.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," my mother said, waltzing into my room carrying a steaming mug of tea. "Wow, look at those swollen glands. I can see your tonsils from here."

"How long have I been asleep?" I dared to ask, accepting the mug from her. My throat hurt so terribly that I dreaded the heat of the tea and cringed as I swallowed.

"Oh, I'd say about, fifteen hours," Mom estimated. She sat down on the edge of my bed. I noticed that I was wearing pajamas, but had no recollection of changing into them the night before. My memory of meeting Glenn, who had puffy blond hair and wore a cashmere sweater with suede elbow patches, felt like it could have easily been something I had conjured up while dreaming. I had a hazy memory of my mother suggesting that I eat some of the enchiladas she had made for dinner, but I wasn't even positive if that had actually happened. "You conked out the minute you got home. Trey said you were sick all day yesterday. I knew you didn't look well in the morning when you left the house."

"Mom," I said suddenly. "Have you heard anything about Tracy Hartford?"

Mom looked confused for a second. "No, why would I have heard anything about Tracy Hartford?"

I tried to think through the hot clutter in my brain about how much interaction my mom had with the other parents in town. She probably didn't have much. Mr. Richmond handled the taxes for a lot of businesses in town, and generally had his finger on the pulse of local town gossip because he routinely talked to a lot of people. Mischa's mom sold houses in Willow and Ortonville, and often knew gossip before anyone else because houses in our town were most commonly bought and sold when couples were either divorcing or moving away from town in search of work. But my mom spent most of her week surrounded by kids in their early twenties on campus in Sheboygan. She could hardly be expected to know what was going on with the high school students in town now that I was no longer enrolled there.

"She's in a coma," I managed to say, remembering what Mr. Richmond had told us the night before in the SUV. I felt a chill run through me as the words left my mouth. If Tracy was in a coma, and the curse was running its course chronologically, Mischa might be in serious danger. "After we left the hospital, she took a turn for the worse."

"That's terrible," my mom said with sincerity. "I'm very sorry to hear that."

"Mom, is there any increased chance of having a heart attack if you're in a coma?" I asked.