Mia Luce

Fever

                When Mr. Barnes cleared his throat, signaling the end of the lecture, he took a small stack of papers and raised them over his head.

         “Pop quiz,” he said simply, and began passing a few to each table. When he got o ours, he smiled. “Welcome to Oakridge, Campbell. We haven’t had a new student in two years.”

         “Thank you,” I relied shyly, staring down at the paper.

         There were only ten questions, so that was good, but I couldn’t remember the first one. I gazed around the room. Gabbie was whispering in Tiffany’s ear; both had puzzled expressions. I saw, peeking to my right, that Jack had already finished number three. That bugged me, for some reason. Hastily I racked my brain. I was no genius, but I made As and Bs. I was good at math and fine at everything else. I used to dance when I was a little kid, but that’s the only sport I was ever involved in because I’m so uncoordinated. If you could even call ballet a sport.

                When, finally, I remembered the answer to the first question, I finished the rest of the quiz easily. I slid my elbow over and leaned on it tiredly. In doing that, my notebook fell off the table to the floor. I blushed and swiftly climbed off my stool, trying to grab it and look like nothing had happened, but I slipped and my elbow collided with one of the knobs on the sink. I cried out in pain as water splashed noisily into the basin. People turned their heads to the source of the noise, their mouths agape, as I scrambled to my feet. Oh good, Mr. Barnes wasn’t in the room. I was pretty sure it was forbidden to use the sink except for in labs. I snatched up my notebook and struggled to turn the water off, right as Mr. Barnes walked through the door.

         “Oh crap!” I breathed. The faucet was still dripping! In desperation I plugged the nozzle with my hand. The flow stopped, but the water trickled down my arm and left a wet spot on my right sleeve. Oh double crap.

         Mr. Barnes hadn’t even noticed. I sat back in annoyance. I fall off my stool, hitting my arm on the sink, and try to stop the water before I get in trouble, and he can’t even spare a glance? Well, okay, at least he wasn’t yelling at me.

         The bespectacled girl across from me merely gaped. Jack turned around to face me. There was laughter in his twinkling eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched. I held his gaze for too long. My heart rate escalated.

         I though that quiz was fairly easy,” he murmured languidly, watching my face. “How about you?”

         I tried to breathe. “Huh? Oh…yeah,” came my garbled answer, and I blushed. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t normally all tongue tied and shy. Was he making me this way?

         “So you’re-” he began, but Mr. Barnes interrupted with a “shhh” and a suspicious look in our direction. Jack crinkled his perfectly shaped forehead in dismay. I caught Gabbie’s eye, and she winked in encouragement. I gave her a desperate glance.

         When the rest of the class had finished the quiz, Mr. Barnes collected the papers and sat down to grade. Apparently he was the type of teacher who didn’t slack off in their teacherly duties. He was like my Calculus teacher, Mrs. Peery. She was my favorite so far.

         At the threat of being shushed again, no one at our table spoke. I could tell by the surprised and wonderous faces of those around me that Jack wasn’t usually apprehended for talking. Or maybe he only talked to new kids.

         When the piercing bell rang, and Jack and his sister were out the door before anyone could stand, Gabbie rushed over to me, Tiffany at her heels.

         As we were walking to my first elective, art, I could tell they were dying to say something. So I brought it up first.

         “Who was that girl sitting near you?” I  asked conversationally, shuffling my feet.

         “Which one?” Tiffany giggled.

         Gabbie slapped her arm lightly. I was beginning to get the impression that she was the ring-leader of their little high school circus. “Who else? She’s Hazel Lewis.”

         “The small brunette?” I asked.

         “Yeah,” Tiffany chimed. “She’s Jack’s sister.

         Ha ha, so smart am I, I thought. “Really? She doesn’t look much like him. Except for the…you know, paleness.”

         “Mmm-hmm,” Gabbie said cheerfully. “He’s got two sisters, Hazel and Bronwyn… the tall, blonde one. We don’t have any classes with her.”

         “And they’re all seniors?” I continued.

         “Yeah. They’re all the same age, which is weird. I really doubt they’re triplets. All three of them are complete opposites,” Tiffany put out.

         You never know. “Maybe they’re adopted?” I guessed.

         “Hmm. Maybe.”

         By the time we reached the art room, they didn’t seem interested in pursuing the subject longer, so I dropped it. When we entered through the doorway, I was impressed with the largeness of the room; it was more like a studio. Spaced out in a crooked pattern were tall metal tables with more stools. Oh, joy.

         Gabbie and Tiffany loped over to join Chris, the blond guy from lunch. I noticed a little spring in Gabbie’s step. I waited at the teacher’s desk, fidgeting impatiently.

         She didn’t keep me there long. The room fell silent when Mrs. Greene entered. Instantly, she was my favorite teacher, and I had no logical reason why. She had string beads in her wildly curly blonde hair, and she wore large turtleshell glasses, a long skirt, tye-dye shirt, and a sequined shawl. I grinned involuntarily, thinking that I couldn’t possibly be the odd one out with her around.

         She seemed ecstatic at the sight of me.

         “Campbell Harris!” she bellowed, and bounded over to me. “How nice to see a bright smile on a stranger’s face! Well, my my, the first new student since young Jack Lewis two years ago has finally arrived!” His name surprised me coming from her eccentric mouth. “Now, sit down, sit down…” she gazed around the studio, “over there! Next to Mr. Wallace of Table Eight. People of Table Eight, this is Miss Harris. I’m sure you will become fast friends.”

         “We’ve met,” I said, grinning. Chris, Tiffany, and Gabbie were thrilled to have me next to them. Mrs. Greene quickly explained the water color project we were starting, then told us happily to get to work.

         “I’ll go get your stuff, Campbell,” Chris told me, smiling. “The paintbrushes are a little hard to find.”

         “Oh, thanks,” I replied. Okay, he’s a bit over-eager. So what?

         We talked and laughed while we were painting. The class, which had been the best part of the day so far, ended too soon. I had been dreading sixth hour since I woke up. Gym. If you made a list of everyone in the world and organized them by how coordinated they were, I would be number six billion. But, since today was the first day and no one had to know that yet, I mustered up whatever dignity I had, changed in the locker room with Gabbie and Tiffany, and trudged morosely into the gym. It was high-ceilinged and spacious, and smelled of pine and new basketballs. I hated that smell.

         I sighed in relief when I caught sight of the two coaches brandishing a TV-on-wheels. They announced the continuation of some kind of tennis instructional video, which I hadn’t even seen the first part of. This was good. I didn’t have to embarrass myself in the last class of the day.

         At the end of the long and droning video, I changed hurriedly and practically tripped all the way to the parking lot.

         I beamed at my car, realizing that I had actually had a satisfactory first day of school. I hoped tomorrow would be the same.

         As I followed the line of cars, barely moving half a mile an hour, two people on the sidewalk caught my eye. They were Gabbie and Chris, and Gabbie was jumping up and down like madwoman and hugging him. I noticed a plush white bunny with a red ribbon around its neck in her arms. Apparently they had made some sort of connection. Good. Now I knew that Chris’s over-helpfulness toward me was pure friendliness and nothing else.

                                                    ***

         That evening, Vanessa made spaghetti. It actually tasted better than I expected it to, but the noddles were a little too al dente and the tomatoes were a bit off. I mentioned nothing but how wonderful it was and how nice it was of her to go through all the trouble to cook it.

         While I was chewing, Vanessa raved on about her day at work. Most of it I didn’t even try to pay attenion to, because I was thinking about Jack Lewis, and his blue eyes…

         “I told Mr. Tanner, you know, the mayor, about you moving to Oakridge for a while, and guess what? We’re invited to Mrs. Tanner’s birthday party next month! He says it’ll be in the City Hall banquet room, sort of a formal get-together so we’ll need to wear dresses or something… and Olive Garden’s catering…” she trailed away dreamily. “So, how was your day at school? You haven’t said anything.”

         “It was great,” I said after swallowing a bite of garlic bread. “I like all my teachers.”

         “Teachers, blah blah blah… did you make any new friends?”

         That was Vanessa for you, always interested in social affairs.

         I did meet this girl, Gabbie Nelson, and she introduced me to some other people. They kind-of led me around.”

         Vanessa giggled. Why? The world may never know.

         When dinner was finished (I cleared my plate to please Vanessa) she flounced away to watch the six-thirty news, so I decided to work on the book report Mr. Stevens had assigned us. Most of the class had a head start over me, so I needed to catch up, Fortunately, I had read Jane Eyre, my favorite book, again last week, so that would have to be my subject.

         I wrote at my little wooden desk for two whole hours, doing the best I could without a copy of the book for reference. I didn’t get much done, as Jack Lewis’s angelic face kept drifting into my thoughts. Each time, I would shake my head, and his image would dissipate gradually, and I would wonder why I was thinking about him anyway.

         Finally the sky outside grew dark, and I grew sleepy. One of my strange characteristics was my tendency to fall asleep anywhere that was dark, like movie theatres, for example. I crawled into bed after changing into fleece pajama pants and a tank top and stared for a long while at the ceiling, imagining shapes in the texture like I used to when I was little. The shapes began to swirl and blur, and envelop me…

                                                    ***

         The next morning, Tuesday, I awoke long before my alarm clock and sat bolt upright, knowing immediately that something wasn’t right. I panicked and ran like mad, shaking all over, into the hallway. I didn’t quite make in to the bathroom; my legs sudden;y felt too weak to hold me and I dropped to the floor, falling asleep on the carpet (or fainting I wasn’t sure) instantaneously.

         I drifted in and out of conciousness, never aware of where I was, until I heard Vanessa’s slippered feet coming up the stairs to take a shower.

         “Campbell!”

         I jumped violently, being so suddenly yanked from my undisturbed stupor. She rushed toward me and brushed her fingertips against my forehead, then recoiled as if she had been electrocuted.

         “You’re burning up!”

         I wasn’t capable of speaking, much less moving. She rolled me over onto my back.

         “Campbell? Campbell…”

         “I think I’m…s-sick…” I whispered hoarsely, my spine going cold and making me shudder. She hoisted me off the floor and let me lean on her all the way down the stairs. I felt on the verge of fainting (or falling asleep) again. Vanessa helped me onto the sofa across from the TV.

         “Be right back!” she cried, bustling back up the stairs two steps at a time. When she came down again she was holding an ear thermometer. Carefully she inserted the tip in my ear and depressed the button. I heard a beep.

         “Holy cow, it’s one-oh-five!” I trembled again. “Honey, you’re going to the emergency room.”

         “No!” I rasped. The word sounded like a hiss. “Just… get me some Ibu-ibuprofen, that always helps.”

         She didn’t seem to know what to do. I felt sorry for her, being so suddenly thrust into momhood, and having to take care of a sick teenager when she had no idea how to. I decided then that if I felt better I would take care of myself. Vanessa, with a worried look on her face, finally brought me two pills and a glass of water. Swallowing them was painful. We sat there in the still-dark living room, with the TV on low volume.
It cast strange, bluish light on the walls that was slowly lulling me to sleep. I fought it.

         Half an hour later, when my fever was down to one hundred two, Vanessa threw a blanket over meand kissed my hot forehead. I was so tired I barely recognized her.

         “I’m going to take a shower, okay? You just go back to sleep.”

         Had I been sleeping? I hadn’t realized. I mumbled something incoherent, and she left.

         Almost immediately I was unconscious.

                                                        ***          

         “Campbell…” Vanessa’s voice said softly.

         I jumped in surprise. Her face was a mere three inches from mine. I could smell lipstick.

         She gave me a funny look. “Maybe I should stay home with you today.”

         “Go to work, Vanessa,” I slurred, noticing her work clothes and purse.

         “I don’t know…”

         “I’m eighteen years old, I’ll be fine by myself,” I argued.

         She grumbled and moped around for a few minutes before leaving her cell phone number on the already cluttered refrigerator and saying she would call me at ten o’clock… or whenever she got the chance.

         The morning was dull. I felt no race of fever or faint anymore. Vanessa never did call me; not that she needed to anyway. In fact, I had no idea what had caused that little scene in the hallway earlier. My mind told me it was nervousness, but what did I have to be nervous about? Going to school? If I had to get sick, it should have happened on my first day, not my second. It just didn’t seem logical, but then again, I wasn’t a logical person.

         So since I was hardly sick at all, I decided to be at least productive. My book report was completed. Another chapter of my Calculus book was done. I even cleaned the bathroom, for no reason at all except that I was bored stiff. That was honestly the first time in my life that I had ever cleaned anything of m own free will. At one o’clock I made myself a cup of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup (yeah, ha ha) and sat eating it on the sofa, because Vanessa didn’t have any specific rules about where you could and couldn’t eat. At first I just stared at the soup and breathed in its steam, a trick my dad taught me. For some reason, it always made you feel better when you were sick or depressed.

         After lunch I tortured myself by watching the Animal Planet. It was fine until a massive, prehistoric-like crocodile swallowed a baby gazelle, and then I got a sickly feeling in my stomach. I turned the TV off an logged onto Vanessa’s laptop, which was in the spare bedroom she had christened an office. My dad, a.k.a. Mike Harris, had probably sent me dozens of e-mails already. Ever since I was four I had lived with him in Trenton. After they divorced Vanessa moved back to Oakridge where she had been raised. (She hated Trenton) I used to come to Oakridge for about two weeks every year to visit. But, for some reason, that gradually stopped by the time I was ten. My dad said it was because I was busy at school, but when I reminded him of the three school-less months called summer break, he would start planning a big vacation or something.

         As I expected, there was an e-mail from him, asking if I was settled in and how many times I had managed to hurt myself already. I wrote a nice long reply about how I loved Oakridge and its brain-clouding fog and how I had made so many new friends. Most of it was a lie. I gave him good evidence that I hadn’t sustained any injuries yet, although I mentioned nothing about the whole fever/fainting/falling asleep thing.

         By the time the e-mail was sent and I shut off the computer, it was three forty-five. School was just letting out. I thought about calling Gabbie to get my homework, but I realized I didn’t have her number, so I planted myself in front of the TV once more. The morbid gazelle-swallowing program was running again, so I purposely avoided that channel.

         Half an hour later, Vanessa got home early. She was gushing over something that happened at work, but she never really got to the point, so I couldn’t tell exactly what it was she was gushing over. I kept hearing the phrase, “I’m so excited!”

         Vanessa made grilled cheese sandwiches and I gulped mine down quickly.

         That night, it poured. I lay in bed miserably with my pillow over my head, trying to block out the heavy sound. Then, of course, I began to think about someone I shouldn’t be thinking about: Jack Lewis. He and his small sister were frighteningly beautiful; was his other sister, also? Were his parents? Did he have parents?

         And why was I even asking myself these questions? It was none of my business. He had spoken a few words to me, sure, but that wasn’t  and excuse for his face to be the last image in my mind before I fell asleep.