The Rebel Code

Chapter Five

"Jenny? Can you hear me?"

"Somebody call the nurse."

"Is she sick?"

I'm on my back, staring up at the sky. There's a dull throbbing in the back of my head that presently becomes a more acute pain, and everything's a little hazy, like I'm waking up from a dream. It's not until I see the concerned faces of my classmates staring down at me, and feel John's hand on my shoulder, that I remember where I am and what I was doing.

We're outside. John always takes his gym classes outside whenever he can, especially at this time of the year when sunny skies are so rare. The grass is soft and the insects are humming, and we've been playing capture-the-flag again. Only I'm not playing. I'm on my back.

"Are you okay?" Malina appears in my field of vision, her mouth twisted in worry.

"Yeah," I rub my eyes as they adjust to the light. "What happened."

"You blacked out," says John, gently but firmly keeping me on the ground when I try to sit up. "It's okay. The nurse is going to come get you."

He dismisses the class, assuring them that everything's all right, and our school nurse trots over to where I've collapsed. She helps me to my feet, shoves a water bottle into my hand, and takes me to her office on the other side of the academy. She looks in my eyes and nose, even down my throat, and gives me some ice for the elbow I didn't realize I'd hit on the way down. Then she leaves, and after what feels like forever, returns with a sheet of paper.

"How much sleep have you been getting, Miss Jenny?" she asks.

"I don't know," I admit. "I haven't been sleeping as well as I usually do, but I'm a light sleeper. I think it's all the storms."

"Mm-hm." she nods. "And how about water?"

"What about it?"

She laughs a deep, hearty laugh. "Are you putting it in your body?"

"Well... yes?"

"Are you sure, because my sheet says you're pretty dehydrated. Your lips are awfully dry too. Tell me, Jenny, have you been stressed lately?" She rolls her eyes. "I certainly wouldn't blame you. The school's a damn madhouse."

I shift uncomfortably in my chair. My hands feel dry. I hate dry hands.

"I've been a little tense," I admit.

"Well it looks to me as if you need to be drinking plenty of water and trying to relax yourself. All that tension is doing your body no good. Just try to keep a water bottle with you during the day to help you remember. And don't go bottling up your stress," she adds, peering at me over the paper. "Your dad's a nice guy. Talk to him if you're feeling anxious. If you'd rather, I can talk to the recovery counselor-"

"I'm fine," I insist. "Thank you, though. I don't need to see the recovery counselor again."

She smiles. "Okay then. Take it easy, ma'am. I'll get you a note and you can go home early today."

***

I wait in Principal Dlamini's office, occasionally stealing the chewy toffee pieces out of the glass jar on the shelf, until John is finished with his shift. In truth, I'm not sad to miss the next module in our new packet. I feel like I'm going to smash the TV if I ever hear Officer Justice's stupid theme song again, but that's exactly the kind of behavior that gets kids noticed. The last thing I want to be right now is noticed.

After an hour of toffee and school magazines and listening to Principal Dlamini's loud clock, John knocks on the door. He and I walk to the parking lot, where I find the van parked in his usual spot. It's the first time I can remember seeing it away from home. It's tall and gray and sleek, and the silhouette reminds me a little of the sharks they put on the warning signs at the beach. But while the outside is intimidating, the inside is soft and comfortable, with better air conditioning than John's work car. I climb up into the passenger seat and toss my backpack behind me, where all our go-bags are neatly stacked.