Out of Breath

Chapter 9

"What are you still doing in bed?" Terry asks as he rips the covers off me. Raven must be in the bathroom because it's just Terry and me.

"I don't feel so good," I say.

The pain in my stomach feels like a rabid cat stuck inside me and clawing to get out.

"I know this trick, and it don't work." Terry snorts, shoving his face into mine. His putrid essence stirs my stomach even more. If he doesn't move, I might barf in his face.

Ma walks into the room. She looks worried.

"What's wrong, baby?" she asks as she puts her leathered hand on my head, slightly pushing Terry to her side. I like her touch and don't want her to stop. My aches aren't as bad with Ma here. She used to cuddle us before Terry arrived. Now, she hardly knows we exist.

Terry rips her hand off me. "Don't treat him like a baby. You will encourage him. The boy ain't sick; he's just too lazy to get out of bed." A tightening grips my stomach, and I think I might die.

Terry pushes Ma back and puts his troll face right in mine. His voice lowers as he says, "get out of bed before I yank you out."

"Oh Terry, Tesla don't fake sick. If he says he's sick, then he's sick. What will it hurt to let him rest today?" Ma's voice sweetens as she tries to stick up for me.

Terry explodes. "Are you challenging me in front of the kids? How can they respect me if my own ball-and-chain doesn't?" He faces me, and as fast as he can, starts counting. "One, two three, four..." Despite how sick I feel, I quickly jump down from the top bunk. I know if he reaches five, he will slam me to the ground from the top. That might kill me.

"See how quickly he got out. No sick kid could do that. This calls their bluff every time."

"'Woe to those who scheme iniquity, Who work out evil on their beds! When morning comes, they do it, For it is in the power of their hands.' That's Micah, boy. So true. So true."

Terry lumbers out of the room as everything shakes. Ma wraps me in her arms. I never want to leave. I close my eyes and pretend life is normal, the life where Terry never existed.

...

Its third period and I don't know if I will make it. I lay my head on the desk in a puddle of sweat I created. I don't recall ever feeling so crappy before. I have already been to the bathroom eight times. I am streaming at both ends. I can't imagine why I am so sick. The flu isn't going around, but it will start soon. Maybe I am starting it.

"Vandukel, head up! This isn't sleepy time," Mr. Coaxly, my English teacher, calls to me. He's alright, but he takes no guff. I lift my head up, but it is too fast. The room spins as hot acidic sludge rises up my throat. I jolt up, but I am too slow. I try to get out of the room, but I am too late. Projectile vomit missiles out of my mouth and sprays the back of three students, the front of one student, and even Mr. Coaxly.

The class explodes in an uproar, naturally so. The people I accidentally puked on are yelling at me. The room parts ways with students running everywhere as if I have the plague.

My stomach cramps.

Maybe I do have the plague. I have never hurt so badly in my life. I wish I could have just stayed home in bed. Stupid Terry.

"Get to the nurse's office NOW!!!" Coaxly yells. I have never heard him yell.

Despite how sick I feel, I hustle. The class snarls at me. I believe they plan on lynching me. I just crucified my reputation.

The office calls Terry, but no one answers. They don't know about Ma's new job, and I don't tell them. If they call her to pick me up, Terry might beat her. I spend the rest of the school day in the infirmary, which is a fancy way of saying a sagging bed that every member of the school has probably slept on. Certainly, it is full of lice and bed bugs. I itch tremendously while I am on it.