by Kate Morris
Roman went to it and looked down at her, “I just wish…”
“Wishes are for people like me, not you. We’re never going to be friends or whatever it is you’re thinking. You’re a popular guy. You’ve got plenty of friends. And if you were looking for something else, forget that, too. I’m not going to hook up with you, either. I’m not like your other girlfriends at school. I’m not like that at all.”
“Wait, I never said you were,” he said. “That’s not even fair. I wasn’t…”
“Goodbye, Roman.”
He stood there staring down at the top of her head for a few seconds before jamming his jacket into his other hand and leaving. When he looked back at the house, she’d already turned off the outside light and shut the door.
“Dammit!” he cursed once inside his car and smacked his palm on the steering wheel. That didn’t go the way he’d wanted.
He drove home, dismissed the babysitter, and made himself a coffee in his mother’s multi-function espresso machine. He didn’t care for froth and cream and flavoring or sugar. Just black.
He sat at the island in the kitchen and pulled out his laptop from his backpack. The first thing he did was check social media to look into Randall’s condition. It’s where everyone updated their status, even in dire situations, especially in something like this where a hospital room selfie would garner attention for a few days. Nothing was posted on any site, so he texted Randall’s girlfriend, Vanessa. She texted back that she hadn’t heard much yet. His parents were at the hospital all night with him, but the doctors weren’t sure what was wrong with him. He was burning up from fevers now and was really sick. They suspected the flu and were running more tests.
Then she texted him to check out Stephanie’s Facebook account and Instagram. Her last text was an apology. Two words: Sorry Roman. He wasn’t sure what she was talking about, so he went onto Steph’s account.
“Shit,” he said in a panicked, low tone.
There was a pic uploaded, probably from Skylar to Steph, and it was Jane in her bikini. She was looking down and to the side as she stepped around pool furniture. Her hair partially covered her face, but anyone who knew her would be able to tell it was her. The fact that Steph tagged Jane’s first and last name on it didn’t help, either. It wasn’t exactly unflattering, though. She looked great, hot even and way better than any of Steph’s photoshopped bikini shots of herself that she always put out there for the world to see. The ones where she tried to make her butt look bigger and her waist smaller and typically involved thongs and push-up tops. Jane didn’t need help. She already had nice curves, delicate and small like her. He scrolled down.
Roman said to the empty kitchen, “Asshole.”
He was referring to Stephanie, of course. There were two more pictures of Jane in her swimsuit on there and one of him and her in the pool talking in the corner away from everyone else. She’d plastered little red hearts on the picture. Real creative. The words ‘new lovers’ were superimposed over the picture on the top edge. Then she’d taken the liberty of starting it off in the comments section with her own tags like ‘whore,’ ‘slumming it,’ and even worse ones about pool hook-ups and various types of sex. This was bad, really bad. He immediately texted Stephanie and told her to take it all down. She ignored his text.
Maybe Jane wouldn’t see it. She didn’t have a Facebook account, so perhaps she wouldn’t find out. However, many others had seen the pics already. He realized there were hundreds of comments. Some were from people at school. The girls were surprisingly nice and said how great Jane looked, how cute her figure was, or how pretty her hair was. The boys were slightly cruder, and the comments ranged from ‘hot bod’ to ‘nice rack’ and wanting to ‘bang’ her. Steph’s inner circle were less kind, which was to be expected. Roman was angry. He was angry that a few of his friends actually commented about her body. He expected more from his guy friends. A little friggin’ respect would’ve been nice.
A second later his phone bleeped a text notification again. It was from Destiny. She saw the pictures. Someone else sent her them in a text message. He thanked her for letting him know. She texted that she didn’t want to tell Jane and that he shouldn’t either. Roman wasn’t too sure about that. She had a right to know. Dez advised against it, so he promised not to discuss it with Jane.
Roman went upstairs and took a hot shower to ward off the chill he couldn’t get rid of. He also couldn’t shake the feeling that not telling her could be the wrong move.
He checked on Connor and went to his own room where he donned actual pajamas for a change. The weather was turning into that nasty wet season after summer and before full-blown winter. He flipped on the television and scanned channels. When he couldn’t find anything, he turned it to the ten o’clock local news out of Cleveland while he worked at his desk on his Chemistry homework. Figuring out complex algebraic equations was always something he enjoyed. Figuring out complex people like Jane Livingston was harder and something with which he had a whole lot less experience.
The top story in the opening sequence of the news was about the Browns football team signing some new quarterback. He wasn’t really interested. His mind was too preoccupied by Jane’s abrupt dismissal of him at her house tonight. He’d thought things were progressing well, even though he’d not had much of a chance to talk to her about his interest in her before she shut him down.
“And in other news tonight,” the woman with the very blonde hair and spray-on tan was saying from behind the news desk, “the CDC is issuing a warning about this new strain of the flu.”
They cut to a pre-recorded video of a doctor who was pushing for everyone to get their flu shot and that it would help to prevent against getting the flu this season. His father never let them get the flu shot because he said it was just big business getting rich off of a vaccine that was unnecessary. This doctor dude seemed to think it would be the end-all-be-all to prevent the flu.
“…this new strain seems to be more deadly than last year’s, which took the lives of nearly seventeen thousand Americans,” the newscaster said. Then she introduced the next story about some animal shelter holding a fundraiser.
Roman rolled his eyes. He’d been to enough fundraisers with his parents over the years to know that most of the money just went to the throwing of the event than it did to the cause. He flipped the channel to the twenty-four-hour news network and caught more stories about the flu. He changed the channel again, and within a few minutes, it was being covered there, too. The next channel landed him on what his dad called ‘the kook network,’ which wasn’t necessarily a news channel but talk shows that discussed current events. His dad thought they were all loud, opinionated conspiracy theorists. However, Roman let it rest on there while he finished an equation. A few minutes later, his attention was piqued again.
“…and why do you think this new flu could be something like that?” the man in the leather chair, the host of the show, asked his guest.
“It isn’t presenting like the flu at all. This is all being covered up by the medical community and the government,” the man said. The man was behind a dark screen, and his voice was being altered to sound like a computer programmed bot. Whatever he knew, he didn’t want anyone to recognize him on this show.
“What should someone do if they start feeling symptomatic, and what symptoms, in particular, do you advise people to watch for?” the host questioned.
“First it starts with nausea and trembling,” the voice changer dude explained. “Sometimes there is even vomiting. Within twenty-four hours, it progresses quickly and almost always downhill.”
“And you said that they become violent?”
Roman dropped his pencil, jumped out of his chair, and walked over to stand directly in front of the television. A chill raced up his spine.
“If the person can be restrained long enough, the violent behavior will pass. From there, it goes one of three ways.”
“Explain that to our viewers.”
; “Some are able to fight it; their immune systems attack and defeat it. Others, most actually, aren’t so lucky and succumb to their fevers and end up comatose.”
“And after that?”
“Usually death.”
There was a long moment of silence, not something news networks liked, even the kooky ones.
“Death, you say?”
“Yes, sir,” he said. “We aren’t able to bring down the fevers, and they’ll spike out at a hundred and eight and even higher. They experience organ failure, brain damage, death.”
“And the third kind? You said there were three ways that this was reacting in people.”
“The third kind…” he said behind the screen and hung his head for a moment. “Those are the worst. They spike the high fevers but don’t become comatose. They seem to skip this step.”
“That’s good then, right?”
“No, sir, not at all,” he explained. “They become even more violent and…their eyes…”
“What about their eyes?”
“They get very bloodshot and…wild, unfocused, murderous. They are unable to be restrained. They become strong, fast, but unpredictable. No antibiotic, antiviral, fever reducers, or penicillin will help. We’ve tried everything.”
“Become strong? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It makes no sense, but they actually seem stronger and faster than they were before the illness set in. I know that seems ridiculous. It does even to me, but it’s the truth. I’ve seen them do crazy things and move faster than my granddaughter who runs track on her team in high school.”
“What do you mean when you say ‘violent’?”
“The only way I can think to describe it is this: have you ever seen an animal with rabies?”
“Rabies? Yes, raccoons mostly. I grew up in the country. I’ve hunted. I know what rabies can look like in an animal.”
“Do you know what it can look like in a human? Because I do. I’ve seen it in these so-called flu patients. This isn’t the flu.”
“And tell our viewers what you told me in the green room, doctor,” the host requested.
“This isn’t a strain of the flu. I’ve studied the flu for years. This is not a flu. This is manmade, and it could potentially kill millions of people.”
“Holy shit,” Roman remarked, staring at the television screen.
Chapter Seven
Jane ignored the seven texts Roman sent her and immediately swiped them away without reading them. She tossed and turned in her bed and finally fell asleep just before dawn. Then she awoke in a surly mood.
Nana Peaches had breakfast ready, as usual, and they ate the breakfast casserole she always made on Sundays, except this Sunday it was in silence until halfway through when her grandmother finally broke it.
“Who was that boy last night, Jane? I know who he is, but what I mean is who is he to you?”
“Nobody,” she said as honestly as she could muster. It was mostly true. “Just someone from school. He wanted help with his English paper.”
“He didn’t look like he wants to be nobody to you. My guess is that boy is sweet on you.”
“Nah, not even close,” she said, this time being candid. “We don’t exactly run in the same crowd, either.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“It’s high school Nana. Everything. It has everything to do with it.”
Her wise grandmother held her tongue but gave her a knowing look. Jane referred to the Sunday paper sitting on the table instead. The front-page story was about the flu everyone seemed to be catching. Gross. She hoped it passed her by. She didn’t get the flu shot, so she was probably more susceptible.
“I gotta run,” she said as she finished and took her plate to the sink. “I’ll do the dishes when I get home.”
“I’ll do them. I’ve got nothin’ but time on my hands.”
Jane smiled and said, “Oh, hey, I need a couple crates of apples for Mr. Contuccini. He said everyone loves your recipe for the tartlets. They’re a real hit. He said you should write a cookbook.”
Her grandmother waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Psh. It’s fall. Everyone loves everything apple or pumpkin. Next year, I might even put in a pumpkin patch. We used to.”
“Your parents?”
“Yes, they planted a little under an acre in pumpkins and sweet corn and sold those, too. The locals always loved the pumpkins in the fall.”
“Yeah, we could do that,” she said, and then felt immediately guilty because she was hoping to be living somewhere else next year. “Gotta go.”
She slipped into her barn boots, grabbed her jacket and noticed that the one she’d borrowed the other night from Roman was still hanging there. She’d meant to give it back to him when he came inside last night but forgot. His locker at school was one down from hers. Maybe she could somehow hang it on there. It would be better than talking to him.
She kissed Nana Peaches’s cheek and took off for the barn. Her Sunday flew by as she also worked a three-hour shift at the restaurant to cover for someone. Hector was still not there. She was told he was admitted into the hospital and that he had the flu. She hoped he got better soon. She really liked him.
By the time she crashed for the night, Jane was exhausted and slept hard. The next morning, she had a difficult time dragging herself to the shower before school. She ate breakfast with her grandmother, told her that she’d be home early since she didn’t have to work at the barn, and left out the back door. Unfortunately, as she was walking to her truck, Roman’s sleek black SUV was pulling in. Destiny was in the front passenger seat. Traitor.
“Hey, Janie!” her friend teased and got out. “Roman offered us a ride, and I figured we should save on gas and take it. Wasn’t that nice?”
Jane gritted her teeth and glared at her friend. The rear window rolled down, and Connor belted out a, “Hi, Jane!”
She couldn’t resist his semi-toothless smile. She grinned and offered a little wave, “Hey, Connor.”
She went back inside and told her grandmother and left the keys to the truck. When she went back out, Dez had gotten in the back beside Connor, which forced her, once again, to sit up front with Roman. He pulled away and drove in the direction of their school, which wasn’t far.
“You didn’t answer any of my texts,” he quietly said as Connor told Destiny about a boy at school who was his friend.
Jane tapped her toe on the floor and tried to give a casual half-shrug. Definitely didn’t look at him. His car smelled like manly soap and shaving cream or something. It reminded her of riding with her father sometimes.
“I really need to talk to you,” he whispered. “Seriously. This isn’t about an English paper this time.”
“You mean like it wasn’t the first time, either?”
Roman groaned softly and turned right to drop his little brother off at the grade school, which was about a mile from the high school.
“Call me if you need me, bud,” he said and got out after he parked along the curb.
Roman opened his little brother’s door and handed him his backpack.
“Your lunch is in there,” he told him.
Something in Jane’s stomach clenched when she saw him help his brother into his backpack and smoothed his hair that was sticking up. The windows in the SUV were slightly cracked, so she could hear them, too.
“No crust?”
“No crust,” he said and patted the top of his brother’s head. “Just how you like it. And eat your carrot sticks, ‘kay? I didn’t cut them up for nothing. You’re growing like a weed. You need to eat your veg, bro.”
“Ugh, ‘kay!”
Roman chuckled and said, “Be good. Pay attention. Bring me home some A’s.”
“A pluses. Got it.”
“See ya’, doofus,” Roman teased.
“Later, Johnny,” Connor returned, confusing Jane, who watched them give each other some sort of elaborate, fist-punching, finger jabbing, thumb war han
dshake. It even included a full body spin and ended in a high five.
“Oh, my gosh, Jane,” Dez whispered in the back seat as Roman walked around the front of the car and watched his brother leave. “Roman is so hot. I mean, he always has been, but look how he is with his little brother. What the heck? He’s like the kid’s dad.”
Jane shot a look over her shoulder at her friend. “Why do we have to ride with him? I drive us. We don’t need to get rides with Roman Lockwood.”
“He offered this morning, and I said yes. I thought you’d be happy.”
“Why the heck would I be happy? His friends…”
“Yeah, his friends. Not him. Roman’s always been nice to us.”
She dramatically slammed her back into her seat again and pouted at her friend. “Roman has not said three words to me in four years.”
“That’s not true. Not really,” her friend argued as Roman waved to Connor with a crooked grin. “Roman talks to us sometimes. You’re too busy looking at your feet. He’s always been nice. He’s not like them.”
She wanted to argue but had to clamp her mouth shut as he got back in.
“What’d I miss?” he asked with suspicion at the stone-cold silence in the car.
“Nothing!” Jane quickly stated before Destiny could tell him.
“Have you guys heard?” Dez asked.
Roman asked, “Heard what?”
“Skylar’s sick in the hospital now, and so is Will Benson and his younger brother.”
“Sick with what? The flu?” Jane asked.
“Yeah, I guess. This bug is really nasty.”
Roman glanced over at her with irritation as he pulled into their own school parking lot, “That’s what I was trying to text you about.”
Jane looked at her knees, “Oh.”
He pulled to the back of the lot in the very last spot like she always did and cut the engine.
“Why’d you ignore my texts?” he pressed again.
“Hey, I’ve gotta return some books to the library,” Dez said, totally and obviously lying. “So, I’m gonna head in. See you in there, Jane.”
She got out before Jane could even rebut and jogged away from the car, leaving her with Roman. It was a designed plan and one that Jane was not happy about.
