by Nicole Grane
Chapter 11
Well, the weekend officially sucked. And not just for me. Half of the junior class was feeling the aftereffects of the Ragno with various degrees of sickness.
Ms. Spicer, who’d been reprimanded for her “serious lack of judgment,” was spending the entire weekend in the infirmary, sicker than a dog I’d heard.
“It’s lunchtime already?” I whined, realizing that half the day had passed by, and I was still in bed. Iris brought me a bowl of soup from The Kitchen. I’d been in bed for the past nineteen hours, waiting for Death to take me—the jerk never came.
“You look awful.”
“Thanks, Iris. It’s nice to see you too.” I took the soup and sat down in my “comfy chair” to enjoy the only good thing this Saturday afternoon had to offer—chicken noodle.
“Maybe you should go to the infirmary.” She eyed me carefully.
“Even if I did, there’s no room. Gillian said the entire ward is completely full. They’ve never had so many sick students at once. They sent her back to her bed to rest. Besides, I’d rather die in my own bed.” I leaned my head back against the chair. “It’s a good thing not everyone had spells yesterday,” I added. “You’d be sick too.”
A malicious smile crossed Iris’s face. “Stacy’s there.”
“What? Where?”
“In the infirmary. She got sick all over her lab partner in biology!” Iris squealed over the juicy news. She toppled over on the bed, laughing hysterically.
“She threw up on her lab partner?” Eww. I remembered how close I’d been to throwing up on Antonio. I’d thanked God quietly many times over for sparing me that embarrassment. I almost felt sorry for Stacy. Almost.
“Yeah . . .” Iris cried. She couldn’t stop laughing.
The door to my room flung open. “Hey! I’ve been knocking.” Aubree stood in the doorway, glowering.
Okay . . . what’s her problem? “Hey Aubree, what’s up?”
Iris took one look at Aubree and irrupted into a state of hysteria that would have startled a hyena.
“Is she still laughing about Stacy throwing up?”
I thought about that. It was funny, but not that funny. I shrugged.
“I suppose she told you who the lucky victim was?” Aubree snapped, not bothering to wait for my answer. She folded her arms across her chest in a huff.
I took in the outraged expression on her face and cringed, fearful that I already knew the answer.
Aubree shouted over Iris’ laughter. “IT WAS ME!”
“Oh Aubree,” Iris cried, wiping tears from her face. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s not funny, but I just keep picturing—”
“Here!” Aubree thrust an envelope at me. “I’ll see you later.” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
I set the soup aside, opened the envelope, and pulled out a small piece of paper.
“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!” I jumped to my feet; the sudden adrenaline-rush no doubt due to the instant fury that shot through my veins.
Iris had stopped laughing and sat up. Her eyes, still filled with tears, were wide with shock.
“Sorry,” I mumbled at her shaken expression.
I read the note once more, just in case by some miracle I’d misread it. “What the hell is he thinking? He knows I’m sick! The jerk!” I rifled through my dresser drawers and found a clean gym outfit.
“What’s going on?” Iris rose from the bed, eying me carefully.
“Antonio!” I growled. “He wants me in the gym right now to make up yesterday’s class I missed.”
“But you’re sick!” Iris shrieked. “And its Saturday . . . we were going to hang out.”
I rolled my eyes. “Apparently, Antonio doesn’t give a flip if I’m sick. I’ll see you later.” I stormed out, slamming the door behind me.
