Something I'm Good At: A Sol del Mar High Novel

by Caroline Andrus

  But I’m not fine.

  When Mr. Garrison begins taking attendance, I raise my head and another wave of dizziness washes over me. I squeeze my eyes closed and grip the edge of my table. My lab partner, Miguel, probably thinks I’m insane.

  I listen to the names of my classmates being called out and wait for my own name.

  “Marisa Roberts,” Mr. Garrison’s voice floats across the room. I hear Marisa call out “Here” and then my name is called.

  “Here,” I say in a shaky voice.

  Instead of moving on, Mr. Garrison pauses, his eyes fixed on me, a frown on his face.

  “Are you feeling all right, Summer?” he asks.

  I nod my head weakly. I just need to make it through this class. Then I can go visit Nurse Hill and lay down in her office until I feel better.

  Mr. Garrison looks skeptical, but he moves on to the next name on the list, and I let out a relieved breath. I can already feel too many eyes on me. When I glance around the room, the owners of those eyes all turn away, except for Mark. He’s watching me from the table across the aisle, his brow creased. I give him a forced smile then train my eyes on the front of the room.

  I have a difficult time concentrating. My classmates stand, and I figure out a beat too late what's going on. They're heading toward the cabinets in the back of the room to gather equipment for today’s lab.

  Hands braced on the counter, I stand and take a step toward the back of the room. And then it hits me. The world is spinning, it’s like being stuck in an undertow, unable to gather my bearings and distinguish up from down. My vision goes black. Before I know what’s happening, the ground is rising up to meet me.

  My brain is so foggy, I don’t even feel the impact when I hit the floor. I hear scattered gasps and cries, but everything sounds muffled and far away.

  When I open my eyes, my cheek is against the gratefully cool floor, and Mark’s face comes into view. His eyes are wide, his forehead creased with...is that worry? He’s frowning.

  He says something, but I can’t focus. I blink, trying to stop the room from spinning. Mark repeats himself, and this time I understand.

  “Summer, did you hit your head?”

  I shake my head. “I’m okay.”

  There’s a hint of a smile on Mark’s lips. “You are far from okay, Summer.” Then his hands are under me, and he’s scooping me into his arms.

  Mr. Garrison appears before me.

  “Get her to the nurse’s office,” Garrison says. “Grab a pass on your way back.”

  Mark nods his head once, and then we’re moving.

  “You’re hot, Summer," Mark says softly, once we’re alone in the hall.

  Wait, is he hitting on me right now? I scrunch my brow at him.

  His neck flushes pink, and he says, “I think you have a fever. You’re burning up.”

  “Let me walk.” He’s still carrying me in his arms as we head toward the office.

  “Not a chance. Last time you tried to stand you fainted.”

  I don't have the energy to argue, so I relax in his arms and silently wait for the short walk to the office to end. I feel ridiculous, like a little kid. But he has a fair point, I'm so weak and dizzy, I’m not sure I’d be able to walk on my own.

  We arrive at the office and, because his arms are full, Mark kicks the door to knock.

  “Summer!” Nurse Hill exclaims, when she opens the door. Her dark eyes are wide. After a brief moment of shock at seeing me carried to her office, she gestures Mark inside. "Lay her on the cot."

  Mark obeys, and I close my eyes and wait in silence while he explains what happened. I hear Nurse Hill rustling around in the cupboards. Her footsteps grow closer, and she tells me to open up. Eyes still closed, I do as she commands and close my lips around the smooth thermometer she’s placed under my tongue.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Nurse Hill’s voice is full of concern. She knows about my health issues, if she sounds worried, I know I must be in trouble. “Mr. Traeger, please return to class.”

  “I need a hall pass.”

  I honestly don't think Mark gives a shit about having a hall pass. I open my eyes, and I can see the worry on his face. A sudden panic overcomes me. He’s going to tell Kane. And Abigail. And then all my new friends will know just how broken I am. I never should have agreed to go out with Kane. I should have sent him packing on day one.

  Nurse Hill sighs then turns back to me. She removes the thermometer from my mouth, and I close my eyes again, bracing myself for the bad news. “Summer, your fever is 103.6. We need to bring this down. Do you have any other symptoms?”

  “I’m really dizzy,” I whisper, “and I have chills and hot flashes off and on.”

  She’s busying herself pulling an ice pack from the little freezer under her desk. She wraps it in a towel and places it across my forehead. It’s freezing, and my body begins to convulse with shivers, but I know we need to bring the fever down, so I suck it up and keep my complaints to myself.

  “Anything else, Summer? Any new rashes or other aches and pains?”

  I bite my lip, wondering if I should mention my tattoo. It probably shouldn’t be red and swollen anymore. Despite trying to convince myself this is normal, the Internet told me it’s probably not.

  “Anything at all?”

  Painfully aware that Mark is still in the room, I push up the hem of my shirt and fold down the waistband of my shorts. Peeling back the gauze, I reveal the little dragonfly.

  Mark sucks in a sharp breath. He’s tall enough that he has a clear view, even though he’s standing behind Nurse Hill, looking over her shoulder.

  “How long ago did you get that?” she asks.

  I shrug. “A few weeks.”

  Nurse Hill reaches out a hand, touches the tattoo, and shakes her head. “It’s definitely infected.”

  I close my eyes, trying to hold in my tears. I know what an infection means. My body is creating an overabundance of antibodies, attacking not only the infection, but my whole body.

  “I’m calling your parents.”

  I groan. So much for keeping the tattoo a secret. If the infection doesn’t kill me, my parents just might.

  25

  Kane

  What do you mean Summer is sick?”

  I stare at Mark, dumbfounded, as he tells me what happened in chemistry class. If I wasn’t so surprised by his words, I’d be pissed that he didn’t track me down and tell me as soon as it happened. Or at least text me.

  Mark sighs. “I mean—” He pauses and gives me an impatient look. “— she had a fever above 103 and the nurse called her parents to come pick her up.”

  As I listen to Mark’s words, I stare at my phone in disbelief. Why hasn’t Summer called or texted if she’s sick? Or maybe she’s too sick? That would be worse.

  “You’re 100 percent sure?” Mark isn’t a liar, but I have to ask. Sure, Summer seemed really tired yesterday, but I chalked that up to her staying up too late the night before catching up on homework. Then again, I did see her leaving the nurses’ office the other day. And she does have a habit of keeping secrets from everyone. But, why wouldn’t she say something if she wasn’t feeling well?

  Mark glares. “Why would I lie about this, Kane?”

  My shoulders slump in defeat, and I stab at a cold macaroni noodle in the plastic container in front of me—leftovers from dinner last night.

  “Lie about what?” Abigail sets her tray down next to Mark and looks between the two of us.

  “Summer’s tattoo is infected,” Mark explains.

  “That sucks,” she replies, flipping open the cap on her reusable water bottle and taking a drink.

  I glare at her. Summer wouldn’t have the tattoo or the infection if it wasn’t for Abigail.

  “It’s not just an infection,” I spit at her. “She fainted in class. She has a fever and who knows what else.”

  “Damn.” Abigail draws the word out, sounding more compassionate than she had a moment before.

 
“You just had to get her involved in that stupid tattoo plan of yours, didn't you?”

  “Chill out, Kane,” Mark interjects. He’s always the voice of reason, and right now I hate that. “This is not Abigail’s fault.”

  I bite my tongue and scowl at my so-called friends. I know if I keep talking, I’m going to regret what comes out of my mouth. Mark holds my gaze, and finally I avert my stare to my cold macaroni. I snap the lid on the container and toss it into the brown paper bag. Standing, I throw one last glare at my friends before storming back into the school.

  I don’t know where I’m going, I just know that I’m worried about Summer and I have to be moving. I wish I had my skateboard, but I do the next best thing; I wander the halls hoping to blow off some steam. Somehow, I manage to avoid any of the school staff, so I don't get in trouble for wandering the halls without a pass.

  Before long, I find myself outside the nurse’s office. Without knocking, I pull open the door and poke my head in. Nurse Hill looks up from her desk.

  “Mr. Dwyer, what can I do for you?”

  I open my mouth to speak then hesitate. Finally, I close the door behind me. “What’s wrong with Summer?”

  She gives me a small smile. “I can’t give out information about other students.”

  “She’s not just some other student,” I insist. “She’s my girlfriend.”

  “I’m sorry, Kane, but that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t tell you anything. Give her a call tomorrow, okay?”

  Shoulders slumped in defeat, I turn back to the door and grasp the handle. I slowly push the door open, and she begins to speak again. I freeze.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much,” she offers. "She's in good hands."

  I exit the office and stand in the empty hall a moment before continuing my wandering.

  When the bell rings, my feet carry me to the foods classroom. I sink into my seat and stare at my hands which are fisted on the table.

  “Hey.”

  I look up, hoping the feminine voice speaking is Summer, but I know it’s not even before I look up into Rachel’s face.

  “Hey.” I return to staring at my hands. I’m not in the mood for small talk.

  “Um,” Rachel continues, not taking the hint. Or maybe just not caring. Out of the corner of my eye I see her weight shifting from foot to foot. She tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear. She’s clearly uncomfortable about this confrontation. “I heard something happened to Summer in class earlier. You’re with her now, right? Is she okay?”

  I glance at her again and shrug.

  “Right, look, I don’t know what she’s said about me, but she was my best friend for a long time. I still care about her, even if she never wants to see me again. Will you just tell me if she’s seriously hurt or sick?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” The words come out more vicious than I intend. I take a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm myself before I piss her off. “Sorry. I just don’t know any more than you do. I haven’t talked to her since yesterday, and she was fine then. Tired, but fine.”

  She bites her lip again, and I avert my eyes. Summer always bites her lip when she’s nervous.

  “You seem like a nice guy, Kane, so I feel like I should warn you about her.”

  “What?” I demand, again more harshly than she probably deserves.

  She flinches but continues. “After she got mono last spring, she completely ghosted me. And the guy she was dating. Like, not returning texts or phone calls, not letting anyone visit her. Completely off the radar. When she came back to school, she quit the volleyball team and the debate club. She quit talking to everyone.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Like I said, you seem like a nice guy. And…” she hesitates, the lip finding its way between her teeth again. “I think you’re good for her. Just don’t be surprised if she disappears on you too.”

  I stare blankly at her. I can’t even fathom Summer ghosting me like she did to Rachel. After a moment of silence, Rachel gets the hint that I’m not in a talking mood and returns to her own table.

  Ms. Knope begins class, but my focus is gone. All I can do is worry about Summer.

  While my wrist was in the cast, I imagined spending all my free time on my board. I wasn’t going to squander a single moment that could be spent skating. Funny how quickly things change.

  It’s another California perfect Sunday afternoon, and I’m spending it warming the bench, while Mark and Abigail skate around me. It’s like I’ve gone back in time to a few weeks ago, except now I’m sitting here by choice. Well, sort of.

  I just want to go home. Stare at my screen. And use my Jedi mind powers to make Summer reply to any of the unanswered texts I’ve sent since lunch on Friday. But Mark and Abigail wouldn't take no for an answer.

  “She’ll call you when she’s feeling better,” Mark says, skating to a stop in front of me. I realize I’ve been staring at my blank screen again.

  “When I’m sick, I don’t want to do anything or talk to anyone,” Abigail adds, pulling up to a stop beside Mark. I know she thinks she’s being helpful, but I was hoping I wasn’t just anyone to Summer. I was hoping I was important enough to call even when she was sick.

  I force a smile, and my friends skate off. I do a quick Internet search for another meme to cheer Summer up. I find one of a stick of butter with a sad face that says, "Get Butter Soon." I type, I hope you’re feeling better, and hit send.

  I stare at the screen, willing a reply to come through. I’m ready to quit holding my breath when the tell-tale bubbles appear. Summer is typing something. But then the bubbles disappear, and no message comes through.

  Defeated, I shove my phone in my pocket and grab my board. I leave without saying goodbye.

  26

  Summer

  I'm grounded.

  My parents didn’t take away my phone. I thought for sure that would be the first phase of my punishment when we got home from the hospital, but it wasn’t. I kind of wish they had though, at least then I wouldn’t have to see all the sweet and funny texts Kane is sending.

  Sitting cross legged on my bed I stare at his latest text. The butter meme stares back at me, with Kane’s concerned message.

  I hate that my initial resolve of solitude crumbled so quickly under his persistence. I never should have agreed to go out with him. I never should have said yes to going to Homecoming, and especially not when he asked me to be his girlfriend. Without me in his life, he’d happily be riding around on his skateboard. Probably breaking more bones but doing it with a smile on his face.

  Biting my lower lip, I try to decide whether or not to reply. I haven’t replied to any of his texts or voicemails yet, and the guilt is eating at me. I’m the worst girlfriend ever.

  A little better. Still not 100%, I tap the message on the screen.

  Before I can hit send, my bedroom door cracks open and Mandy pokes her little blonde head in. “Wanna play Minecraft with me?” She keeps her voice soft, as though speaking at a normal volume may shatter me. Too late little sis, I’m already broken.

  I give her a small smile. “Not right now, Mandy. Sorry.”

  “Oh…okay.” I hear the disappointment in her voice, but I don’t stop her when she quietly closes the door and leaves.

  I stare at the screen again and re-read my message. Shaking my head, I delete the unsent text and swipe back to the home screen. My background image, a photo I snapped of Kane and me at the beach the night he asked me to be his girlfriend, mocks me. I throw my phone on the bed, screen down. Pulling out my sketch pad, I flip to a blank page and begin something new.

  I get lost in my sketch and lose track of time. I'm startled by a knock on my bedroom door. A quick glance at the clock on my phone tells me it’s been well over an hour since Mandy’s last appearance. Tossing the phone back on the bed, I ignore the knock and pick up my pencil once more. I glance up when my parents enter, then return my attention to my artwork.

&nb
sp; “Summer,” Dad says, his deep, lawyer voice demands my attention.

  Reluctantly, I set aside my sketchpad and look at him. His face is neutral, the same face I imagine he uses during cross examinations in the courtroom.

  I knew it was only a matter of time before they had this chat with me. My tattoo—and subsequent infection—has been the elephant in the room since Nurse Hill called my mom. Dad had been in court and met us at the hospital as soon as he’d heard. From my hospital bed I’d heard them arguing in the hall. Dad wanted to read me the riot act right then and there. Mom made him promise to wait until I was feeling better and they’d had time to cool down and talk things out together. Apparently, that moment had come.

  “Was it worth it?” Mom asks, perching on the edge of my bed. I shift my gaze from Dad to her. She looks sad.

  I shrug.

  “That’s not an answer, Summer,” Dad says sternly.

  I fight back the tears welling up in my eyes and finally manage to speak. “I just wanted to do something normal.”

  “Getting a tattoo in some guy’s basement when you are still a minor is not normal!” I flinch at Dad's outburst.

  “It wasn’t a basement…” I mutter and instantly regret it.

  “I don’t care if it was a legitimate tattoo shop,” Dad exclaims. “The fact of the matter is, you made a huge mistake. Immune disease or not, you should never have done it. I thought you were smarter than this.”

  I stare at my lap, unable to meet his disappointed gaze. From the corner of my eye, I see Mom place a gentle hand on his arm.

  “Summer, we know you want to just fit in,” she said. “But we need you to think about your health first. It’s one thing to spend a day at the beach, if you’re smart and use sunscreen and seek shade. It’s another to do something like this, something with such a high risk of infection.”

  “I did my research, you know,” I say loudly, looking back and forth between my parents. “Plenty of people with lupus get tattoos.”

  Dad’s eyes are blazing, and I look away again.