Anxiety Alley

Sicily [Chapter 14]

A/N this is a short introduction chapter for the character of Sicily, told through her point of view. 

Ben is an idiot. That's one of the primary facts I know to be true. He's been talking about this girl since the moment he met her (which he described in detail). She's been through something horrible, and the best that dork can do is a high-five? He doesn't know the first thing about girls. 

I stir the pot, and dip the spoon in. My spinach tomato tortellini is done, and that boy needs it. He's been at the hospital since he woke up, without breakfast. I guess you could say I fuss over him too much, but it's just who I am. I have five younger siblings, who will no doubt devour the rest of this before I get home.  

Finding four styrofoam cups and lids, I drag my busy mom to the car. She's dropping me off on her way to her second shift. She just got in from the night shift, and she needs to sleep, but she won't.  

"Thanks Mami," I call over my shoulder when we get to the hospital.

"Willow Graceson?" I ask to a friendly looking receptionist. He smiles and tells me her room number.   Stepping off the elevator, I hear Ben's voice coming from the open door. He's laughing, which is a good sign. 

"Hi kids," I say, coming into the room. I brought cibo (food, because she talks in Italian sometimes) for Ben, the girl, her mother, and me. I wasn't prepared for the black-haired boy with a slight french accent. Oh well, he could have mine. 

"Sicily," Ben grinned, giving me a quick hug, "This is Willow."

I offer her a styrofoam cup and a warm smile. She returns the smile, although hers is grimmer. She takes a hesitant sip, then her eyes light up and she sticks her spoon in with more enthusiasm. 

"Mmm," she moans around a tortellini, "Everything I've ever heard about hospital food is wrong." My cheeks heat up, embarrassed.  

"Actually," Ben states, "Sicily made it." Willow stops mid-bite to look at me. 

"I thought only chefs and moms could cook. This is good," She says it wide-eyed, like a compliment, so. . .I guess it is.    

I quickly hand the soup to Ben and French Boy, avoiding the compliment. 

"She has eight siblings; you bet she can cook," Ben goes on, not letting it go.  

"Ben," I hiss, my face redder by the minute. He simply ruffles my overly curly hair and laughs, unaffected.  I hate him. 

"Willow's right, this is amazing," French Boy tells me, "My name's Mathis." His voice has a flirty edge, and his eyes were sparkling in a way that made me a little bit dizzy. He was cute, but I didn't have time for a relationship. Maybe I'll take him out one time, but probably no more than that. After all, I never have gone on a second date with one boy.  

"This one is for your mom," I say, holding out the other cup. She immediately began crying. Oh no, what did I do? 

"Her mum is in a coma," Ben whispered, with that same hint of an accent he picked up from his Irish mom. He mentioned his Chem teacher is welsh, which is probably why it's gotten worse.

"I-I'm so sorry," I stutter, feeling horrible. How can I be so dense? 

""It's alright," Willow shakes her head, ignoring the tears that threaten to spill over her cheeks. I would start to apologize again, but her tone has made it clear she wants a subject change. After that. . .awkward moment, it goes fairly well. By the time Mami is done with her shift, we've exchanged numbers. 

When I get home, I realize I was right. The food I made earlier has been completely devoured.